Poetry

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Remember not former things,
Nor consider things of old;
For the heartaches that it brings,
Consequences that unfold.

I am doing a new thing,
That springs forth do you not know:
As the streams the desert bring,
Through the wilderness that flow.

The beast of the field honor,
The Lord as they go and drink;
The one who is a fawner.
Will be taking time to think.

As His chosen He has formed,
That they might declare His praise;
When they are cold He has warmed,
That they survive all their days.

Yet you did not call upon,
Rather you have been weary;
When you awaken at dawn,
Everything seems so dreary.

You have brought Him offerings,
Sheep as a burnt sacrifice;
The burden of sufferings,
From temptations that entice.

You have not bought Him sweet cane,
With the fat to satisfy;
All of this has been in vain,
The transgressions you deny.

He blots out iniquities,
You are willing to confess;
Blessing you with sanctities,
From sin that causes duress.

Copyright ©2023 Richard Newton Sherrer

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