10-29-15 Awake!

Wherefore he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.

Ephesians 5:14 KJV

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The unregenerate cannot arise

Without the blood of Jesus on their soul,

So more than dead they head to their demise

Unless they’re sought and Christ they choose in whole.

Yet saints may be asleep among the dead

Who’ve wandered from the light with constant sin,

So blow the trumpet loud beside their bed, ¹

Remind them who they are and where they’ve been.

Awake, you sons and daughters of our God!

Stand up and Christ will surely give you light!

He’s coming soon, my friend, so don’t you nod,

Get oil for your lamp ² and keep it bright! ³

Awake from all the dead, you sleepyhead!

There’s no more time to doze, He’s just ahead!

1Joel 2:1

2Matthew 25:1-13

3Matthew 5:16

8-16-15 Let the Dead Bury the Dead

²¹ And another of his disciples said unto him,

Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father.

²² But Jesus said unto him, Follow me;

and let the dead bury their dead.

Matthew 8:21-22 KJV

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When Jesus once to His disciple said

While thick within the Savior’s ministry,

“This way, and let the dead bury their dead,”

He wasn’t speaking disrespectfully.

When Jesus says “Come, follow Me,” you should,

For after all that’s what it’s all about.

A lion-caught gazelle can do no good

Requesting time to seek his family out.

The unregenerate are dead within;

There’s plenty of that kind to go around.

As God, the Savior knew His friend had kin,

Enough to put his father in the ground.

When Spirit tells you “Here,” don’t whine and curse;

Choose then the Living Christ and not a hearse.

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Sonnet #438

8-4-15 Gone

¹ To the chief Musician upon Sheminith, A Psalm of David.

Help, LORD; for the godly man ceaseth;

for the faithful fail from among the children of men.

2 They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: 

with flattering lips and with a double heart do they speak.

Psalm 12:1-2 KJV

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The days of righteous men are all but gone,

For evil spreads the earth just like a plague.

It’s not that saints are hiding and withdrawn,

There’s just so few they seem both hushed and vague.

The faithful few are buried by the mob:

The carnel, unregenerate and vile,

Who smile at you in passing at your job,

Then stab you in the back with that same smile.

These are the days the wicked strut about;

They’re killing unborn babies just to sell.

They stand upon a rainbow box and shout,

And roam the streets like racist mobs from hell.

O Help us, Lord! The faithful fall away!

There’s very little hope for us today!

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

sonnet #426