Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 7-23-07

Sing the silent tune, and sing it very soon;
We know not the end of season;
Be now very strong, for those who so stand long,
Will see His wisdom’s reason;

He’s the only One, our God’s begotten Son,
As our Provision for the Way;
By His death, He appeased; it’s His blood that still pleas,
“Come all, to Me, and pray;”

Pray to the Son as Living Hope; seek His grace, for it grope,
And end your war with God;
For the He made Him our Door, to find Life forever more;
Our sins He has forgot;

Then, in Him, you will have peace; needed when Satan won’t cease,
Especially when He owns you;
His gift will be a heart so quiet, drowns out the world’s ungodly riot,
For you will see Him true;

And by that Truth you’ll come to see, beyond all proof you will be free,
To cross the threshold of death;
For by the Key of your salvation, death becomes your graduation;
He holds His children’s breath.

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