Poetry

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Come and go to this steward,
Who is over the household;
Has been studying the Word,
Knowing what will soon unfold.

Say what have you to do here,
A birth coming from the womb;
Carving a dwelling to fear,
For being your resting tomb.

The Lord will hurl you away,
Violently you strong man;
Because you have gone astray,
As He seizes of your plan.

The Lord will whirl you around,
As He throws you like a ball;
And hearing your dying sound,
For your shaming as you fall.

He will thrust from your office,
Demoted from your station;
For God will perform justice,
Cancelling your salvation.

For it will then come to pass,
He calls His servant that day;
Never has done any trespass,
Always willing to obey.

He will clothe him in your robe,
Upon him will bind your sash;
Your misdeeds then he will probe,
Digging into all your trash.

God will place on his shoulder,
For your house to give a key;
Shut your tomb with a boulder,
Sealing tight never to see.

He fastens you as a nail,
Inside your tomb to secure;
No longer will you prevail,
That the Lord God will assure.

For the glory and honor,
Will never come from your house;
You were never a fawner,
And you have disgraced your spouse.

In that day, the nail fastened,
Shall give way and be removed;
The boulder that imprisoned,
No longer there and was moved.

Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer

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