Poetry

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It was fitting for He,
For whom all things exist;
Many sons to glory be,
The founder to enlist.

One giving salvation,
Perfect through suffering;
For a new creation,
Sanctified as to bring.

For He is not ashamed,
To call Him a brother;
And why we have proclaimed,
Unto one another.

I am singing His praise,
To the congregation;
Trusting in Him always,
As a new creation.

For I am His child,
Sharing the flesh and blood;
No longer defiled,
As baptized in the flood.

Through death, He might destroy,
Powers of the devil;
Righteousness to employ,
Powers over evil.

Deliver all who fear,
And bondage as a slave;
That confess to revere,
To rescue from the grave.

Not the angels to aid,
But He helps the offspring;
From the seed that was made,
Of Abraham to cling.

He might be merciful,
Be able to show respect;
Always being faithful,
And never to reject.

Make propitiation,
For seduction of sin;
No more a temptation,
To corrupt you within.

Copyright ©2022 Richard Newton Sherrer

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