Poetry

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But I could never address,
You as spiritual people;
If the Lord could ever bless,
An infant in the temple.

I have fed you with the milk,
Not giving you any meat;
You are not ready for silk,
To start wearing on your feet.

Because you would slip and slide,
You cannot eat the fine food;
Since you can never abide,
Having such an attitude.

You are carnal flesh and bone,
Having jealousy and strife;
You cannot change on your own,
In the human way of life.

For when does someone say,
A person that you follow;
Merely human you obey,
Or someone who is Hallow.

Servants through whom you believed,
As the Lord gave to each man;
For the salvation received,
Fitting you into His plan.

I planted and gave water,
God gave us His son to grow;
Molding you as the potter,
Ripen for the harvest flow.

Neither anyone who sows,
Or waters it to nourish;
The Lord ensures that it grows,
In due time it will flourish.

Who plants and waters are one,
Each will receive a reward;
Harvesting comes by the Son,
Of those who loved and adored.

For we are His hired hands;
Who are maintaining His field;
Plants and waters His commands,
For creating a high yield.

Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer

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