Poetry

---

I was called
the Weeping Prophet;
Gushed tears as Israel,
refused to submit,
To the Lord of Hosts,
My only boss;
In anguish, I saw,
Jerusalem was lost.

No one heeded
the words I proclaimed,
except for a gentile;
Ebed-Melech, by name.
Thus God promised him
divine protection;
his life, He gave him,
by Lordly proclamation.

The Lord swore,
and refused to relent;
judgment for His people;
on this, He was bent.
In a grotto,
I had lamented
for my own people,
they never repented
Still, the Lord promised
a remnant redeemed;
His mercy existed,
to me, it seemed.

The Lord God revealed
there was no "Plan B",
He would take all hearts,
and set them free;
From hearts of stone,
He would make flesh;
By His own Spirit,
His move would refresh.

He had declared
all sins were forgotten;
As He would send,
His own Begotten.
A new covenant
was on the horizon;
Redeeming all,
returning them to Zion.

I was a failure
by human estimation;
No droves of people
set for salvation;
Still the Lord judges,
most mercifully;
I had succeeded,
serving faithfully.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE