Poetry

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How are the dead being raised,
What kind of body possess;
If Jesus Christ would be praised,
And dead people did confess.

What you sow comes not to life,
As a foolish person dies;
Unable to cope with strife,
What is hidden from their eyes.

You have sown what is to be,
Of wheat or another grain;
Able to grow as you see,
As it is nourished by rain.

God gives the body He chose,
To each kind of seed He owns;
For He will reap what He sows,
Confession to who atones.

For not all flesh is the same,
But humans only one kind;
A conscience of knowing shame,
Established free will of mind.

Bodies of Heaven and earth,
Bodies of glory not same;
Different glory in worth,
Belongs to God to proclaim.

One glory is of the sun,
Another is of the moon;
Glory of stars of each one,
All are able to commune.

Copyright ©2022 Richard Newton Sherrer

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