Poetry

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I long to be as
The wind, blowing to the east
And the utmost ends

I will long to grasp
My youth to help the elders
And homeless few.

I wish to affect
Others by my special joy
Of Jesus' triumph.

I will tell the meek
As a whisper of silence
Of His victory

Or the mighty men
Shall hear the thunderous fall
Of Satan's reign.

It shall be proclaimed
By the angels of heaven
Throughout the nations.

The demons will scream
As they go down to the pit
Pain amongst pain called Hell

Righteousness prevails
Everything said has happened
Vindicate me Lord.

Grant mercy and grace
Upon this wounded soldier
Please lead me home.

Praise to the Father,
To His only begotten Son,
And Holy Spirit.

Amen!

William
R. King
1 9 9 4

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