8-4-15 Gone

child-guns

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It’s not that saints are hiding and withdrawn,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!

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sonnet #426

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1-3-15 Believe

believe

Don’t think that some vague hope is good enough

To buy your way to Heaven’s golden shore;

Because you bear conclusions you’ve the stuff

To satisfy the Lord and gain rapport.

You must believe in God until you ache,

Until you know without a doubt He is.

You see Him every moment you’re awake,

You cannot touch a thing that isn’t His.

How can you claim to be a child of God

And wander ’round an orphan in your heart?

Seek him until your eyes are old and flawed,

Until you can’t tell night and day apart.

How can a seeker doubt who does believe?

He’s all around you now; reach out, receive.

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But without faith it is impossible to please him:

for he that cometh to God must believe that he is,

and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.

Hebrews 11:6 KJV