Poetry

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Our bodies are made of clay,
And they are molded to obey;
Yet we have also the treasure,
Of the Gospel for good measure.

Supreme power of this treasure,
Over any earthly pleasure;
And does not come from around here,
Not be found neither far nor near.

We are troubled and frustrated,
And maybe not so elated;
But we will not ever give up,
Or drink from the poisonous cup.

We may be heavily burdened,
Persecuted not abandoned;
Maybe a captive but not killed,
But am a Christian highly skilled.

We will carry around the death,
With the thought in every breath;
Of Jesus Christ hung on the cross,
Suffering for me of such a loss.

Our life of mortal nature,
Even if being a new creature;
For death is working its decay,
Because we tend to disobey.

But I believe therefore I speak,
It is the truth what I do seek;
We know the One, who brought Christ back,
Has the power that we all lack.

For all these things are for your sake,
No matter how much time will take;
As kindness from God overflows,
For just how long only God knows.

Copyright © 2014 Richard Newton Sherrer

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