Poetry

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O Lord, You are my God,
I am praising Your name;
I will exalt and laud,
What You did I proclaim.

The city is a heap,
A fortress in ruins;
People slaughtered like sheep,
Being caused by bruins.

The city is no more,
Never to be rebuilt;
Sickness without a cure,
Since they do not have guilt.

Strong people glorify,
Ruthless nations will fear;
For they cannot defy,
Knowing that God is near.

A stronghold to the poor,
The needy in distress;
A shelter to assure,
Avoiding the ruthless.

You subdue the strangers,
The ruthless are brought low;
Calming of the dangers,
Of problems that may grow.

You are making for all,
A feast of food and wine;
You have answered my call,
Starving and thirst to dine.

You swallow up mountains,
A veil spreads over all;
Water causing fountains,
As a mystified fall.

You will swallow up death,
Our tears wiped away;
Giving life with Your breath,
Teaching us to obey.

For You are our God,
Who we have waited for;
Curing us where we flawed,
Salvation to secure.

For the hand of the Lord,
Spreading out as to swim;
From water that has poured,
For joy ridding the grim.

Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer

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