Poetry

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O Lord, You are my God,
And I will exalt You;
I will honor and laud,
Remain faithful and true.

For I will praise Your name,
The wonderful things done;
I will always proclaim,
Being second to none.

The city is a heap,
The fortress a ruin;
But I will never weep,
You roared like a lion.

The city is no more,
Never to be rebuilt;
For thing that You abhor,
Destroyed having no guilt.

Strong people glorify,
Ruthless nations will fear;
Bow down to sanctify,
Show respect to revere.

The stronghold to the poor,
The needy in distress;
For them an open door,
For giving them access.

A shelter from the storm,
And a shade from the heat;
When cold to keep them warm,
To rest their weary feet.

On the mountain the Lord,
Will make people a feast;
Rich food that is adored,
Prepared by the High Priest.

You will swallow up death,
And wipe away the tears;
Giving all a new breath,
And calming all the fears.

The day we waited for,
The day of salvation;
Destroyed all who ignore,
For the revelation.

Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer

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