Poetry

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The Lord has loved you;
But have you loved Him;
For Scriptures tell true,
But you are so grim.

You hate your brother,
And have laid him waste;
For beasts to bother,
Buried to make haste.

We are all shattered,
Ruins to rebuild;
Your people scattered,
A void must be filled.

God will tear it down,
The Lord is angry;
Because of your frown,
Not happy to see.

For your eyes shall see,
Say “Great is the Lord”;
Your heart cannot be,
Not in one accord.

A son shows honor,
Serving his father;
But is a goner,
Going out farther.

Where is my honor?
And where is my fear?
When he is a fawner,
No longer is near.

Is it not evil,
Offer sick or lame;
Meant for the devil,
That you might proclaim.

Seek favor with God,
For feeling His grace;
To honor and laud,
Feeling His embrace.

Someone shut the door,
Kindle not fire;
No pleasure to cure,
Of your desire.

The Lord will accept,
What is in your hand;
Only if you kept,
What He did command.

Copyright © 2018 Richard Newton Sherrer

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