Poetry

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The earth belongs to the Lord,
And all the fullness thereof;
Let it never be ignored,
Of His compassion and love.

For He found upon the seas,
Established on the river;
The birds flowing through the breeze,
Causes the land to shiver.

Who shall ascend from the hill,
Standing in His holy place;
As His words are to instill,
While He gives His good grace.

He has clean hands and pure heart,
And not lifting up His soul;
To whom deceitfully impart,
With vanity in control.

He will receive a blessing,
And righteousness from the Lord;
For his salvation will bring,
When he is in one accord.

Such is the generation,
Of those who are seeking Him;
Confessing for salvation,
To give His spiritual vim.

Lift your head to seek His face,
Open up the ancient gates;
The King of Glory gives grace,
Those with the patience and waits.

Who is the King of Glory,
And who is strong and mighty;
The Gospel is His story,
Who you fess on bended knee.

Open the gates, let Him in,
The King of Glory enters;
Let His Spirit cleanse your sin,
By becoming repenters.

Copyright © 2021 Richard Newton Sherrer

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