Black Bart, Po8
Welcome, good friend; as you have served your term,
And found the joy of crime to be a fiction,
I hope you'll hold your present faith, stand firm
And not again be open to conviction.
Your sins, though scarlet once, are now as wool:
You've made atonement for all past offenses,
And conjugated-'twas an awful pull!-
The verb 'to pay' in all its moods and tenses.
You were a dreadful criminal-by Heaven,
I think there never was a man so sinful!
We've all a pinch or two of Satan's leaven,
But you appeared to have an even skinful.
Earth shuddered with aversion at your name;
Rivers fled backward, gravitation scorning;
The sea and sky, from thinking on your shame,
Grew lobster-red at eve and in the morning.
But still red-handed at your horrid trade
You wrought, to reason deaf, and to compassion.
But now with gods and men your peace is made
I beg you to be good and in the fashion.
What's that?-you 'ne'er again will rob a stage'?
What! did you do so? Faith, I didn't know it.
Was _that_ what threw poor Themis in a rage?
I thought you were convicted as a poet!
I own it was a comfort to my soul,
And soothed it better than the deepest curses,
To think they'd got one poet in a hole
Where, though he wrote, he could not print, his verses.
I thought that Welcker, Plunkett, Brooks, and all
The ghastly crew who always are begriming
With villain couplets every page and wall,
Might be arrested and 'run in' for rhyming.
And then Parnassus would be left to me,
And Pegasus should bear me up it gaily,
Nor down a steep place run into the sea,
As now he must be tempted to do daily.
Well, grab the lyre-strings, hearties, and begin:
Bawl your harsh souls all out upon the gravel.
I must endure you, for you'll never sin
By robbing coaches, until dead men travel.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Down Among The Dead Men
Within my dark and narrow bed
I rested well, new-laid:
I heard above my fleshless head
The grinding of a spade.
A gruffer note ensued and grew
To harsh and harsher strains:
The poet Welcker then I knew
Was 'snatching' my remains.
'O Welcker, let your hand be stayed
And leave me here in peace.
Of your revenge you should have made
An end with my decease.'
'Hush, Mouldyshanks, and hear my moan:
I once, as you're aware,
Was eminent in letters-known
And honored everywhere.
'My splendor made all Berkeley bright
And Sacramento blind.
Men swore no writer e'er could write
Like me-if I'd a mind.
'With honors all insatiate,
With curst ambition smit,
Too far, alas! I tempted fate
I _published_ what I'd writ!
'Good Heaven! with what a hunger wild
Oblivion swallows fame!
Men who have known me from a child
Forget my very name!
'Even creditors with searching looks
My face cannot recall;
My heaviest one-he prints my books
Oblivious most of all.
'O I should feel a sweet content
If one poor dun his claim
Would bring to me for settlement,
And bully me by name.
'My dog is at my gate forlorn;
It howls through all the night,
And when I greet it in the morn
It answers with a bite!'
'O Poet, what in Satan's name
To me's all this ado?
Will snatching me restore the fame
That printing snatched from you?'
'Peace, dread Remains; I'm not about
To do a deed of sin.
I come not here to hale you out
I'm trying to get in.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Reflections Of Christmas Past
'I can hear sounds of bells, of that Christmas Day'
Another poet wrote, in their poetic way.
Of 'Peace on Earth, Good will to men.'
And still our earth seeks, that peace again!
Like Him, I bow in great despair
And pray that peace, be everywhere!
'Tho hate is strong, and mocks peace songs
Of Peace on earth, to those seem wrong.
But as the poet wrote, in time of yore
'Hate and greed shall be no more.
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail!
with, ' peace on earth Good will to men.'
When men put away all their hate and greed
And return to love and faith, for another's need!
Then we shall truly have again
'Peace on earth, and Good will to men! '
poem by Linda Winchell
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On Reading Blake's 'Little Black Boy
Two centuries or even more gone by
Since William Blake wrote 'The little black boy'
He told in verse how black skin equalled white
And in what he wrote of course the poet was right.
He wrote the famous verses at a time
When to be black was looked on as a crime
A lesson in human love perhaps one day
That others might learn from what he had to say.
His verses put him in a higher place
When he wrote of the equality of race
And in history the great poet made his mark
When he preached that white was no greater than dark.
But even in the twenty first century
Some with the Poet's views still do not agree
Some still say black is not as good as white
But of course these people live in darker light.
A lesson here for all humanity
From bard who lived in eighteenth century
That racial discrimination is unwise
As all different races equal in God's eyes.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mortgaged
These spotted trousers, now too short,
Were once some verses smoothly wrought,
The worn-out bluchers on my feet
Twin sonnets to My Lady Sweet,
This 'decker' hanging round my nose
The product of an ODE TO ROSE;
The collar, tie and underpants
Are still an editor's advance
For some wild Bacchanalian song
The gods, I hope, will send along...
To work a dead horse off one's hand
(More so, of Pegasus's brand)
Is what a poet hates to do,
Yet still is what Fate drives us to.
Ah me, I feel my soul is ripe
For forty couplets' worth of tripe,
Three lines of beer, a verse of bread,
But O ... I'll have to pay instead
That d___d old Editor!!
poem by Hugh McCrae
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Deeper and Deeper
As shallow as it seemed on the onset,
We found ourselves on the deepest part,
I ran across my thoughts,
Wondering why it became so,
At first i thought it fate,
At last i thought it maybe
It was a moment to remember,
Meeting you in an unexpected place,
Loving you without uncertainies,
Being a lover and friend,
As shallow as it seemed on the onset,
We found ourselves on the deepest part
The signs showed me something,
Something showed me everything,
Everything was you and you were everything
The realisation that love exists,
Often anticipated with doubt but true
The wind blew so vivid,
Yet we found no reason to shake,
We thought we were stagnent,
Yet we moved deeper and deeper,
It was a dream but we made it real,
You and i are awesome,
Protracting our future in love,
Faith and hope we attached,
Hate and mistrust we dettached,
We thought it slower yet it was fast,
We thought it shallow, little did we know,
It was deeper and deeper
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Any Faith
Belief it comes in every kind; faith that grips the heart and mind,
But faith’s deeper than belief, like a branch that holds each leaf,
When you’re planted in the Tree, within the Branch of all Eternity,
All leaves never wither or fall, being nourished by the Lord of all.
There’s men with faith, although, are not rooted enough to grow,
Head belief but no spiritual root, within this life, produce no fruit.
And a faith with only head belief, produces withered, falling leaf.
Rooted only in spiritual sand, upon The Rock they cannot stand.
There are beliefs in many a place, having faith less God’s Grace,
In many beliefs, it’s understood, that mankind is basically good,
Men building a faith down here, without that need for Godly fear,
Ignoring Truth wanting His love, thinking all get to Heaven above.
Some with a faith about the earth, see no need for spiritual birth,
Never looking up to The Creator, with no thought about a Savior,
Being stewards of God’s creation, with no need of His salvation.
As saving earth is the urgent need, the only truth men must heed.
Any faith, as noble as it may be, cannot save a soul for Eternity,
If that faith has ignored, the blood atonement of Christ our Lord,
If it fails to embrace this Truth, ahead will only be strong reproof,
As faith in Christ is the only belief, that gives a soul eternal relief.
(Copyright ©08/2008)
Not Works of Righteousness
It is not by works of righteousness, that from Hell, I am saved,
For I’m filled with wickedness, with a heart that is so depraved;
My salvation is by God’s Grace, and it’s all God’s Grace alone,
That I’m saved from that place, to enter Heaven, as God’s Own.
All believing that they are good, by their works, to enter above,
Must heed what’s understood, no one on earth is good enough,
For every earthly soul falls short, of God’s Perfect Glory above,
But, The Good News does report, that He saves us by His Love.
Holy God cannot strive with sin; the sin that’s tainted every soul;
From the very day that we begin, all are cursed from Adam’s fall,
That sin has separated all of us, from our Creator, Lord and God,
So our God sent His Son Jesus, down to the sinful earth we trod.
For the righteous He didn’t come, when to this earth He was sent,
But, He came that all, not just some, fallen sinners, would repent,
To turn from sin to God’s Son, the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
Who had come to grant everyone, through New Birth, Eternal Life.
One belief, that’s worse than sad, for one’s entrance into Heaven,
Have your good outweigh your bad, which is only spiritual leaven,
For the single way to be assured, of your life in Heaven Eternally,
Is a sinner’s faith alone in The Lord, through The Cross of Calvary.
(Copyright ©09/2010)
I lost my faith
One morning, I stumbled upon faith
Outside the doors of heaven’s gate
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Let me give it to you straight
I once had a temper with a rage
Hot enough to melt a steel cage
I lost my faith and that’s a reality
Lost were positives aspects of my personality
Crime and drinking was my trait
My slogan was 'Don't mess with me mate! '
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Let me narrate, I was overweight, I had no dates
I lost my faith on the doors of possibilities
Realising the world does not strive for equality
They scorned me for what I was
I lost my faith with its many flaws
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Let me update, with the intention to frustrate
By now you should understand
We all live in no man’s land
I thought, with exploding populations
What hope is there for our future generations?
So what is this faith?
So why keep the faith?
Then the answer came knocking on my door
Love and peace, unity, strength and more
I thought, “Why didn’t I think of this before? ”
A peaceful quietness above all
Faith in me has been re-installed
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Rivers of a Poet
The Rivers of the Poet
The verses of the poet
vary from the rivers
though they also flow
while circulating inside
until materializing
in words and verses
that others can see.
The poet’s soul communions
with the exterior world
and flows like the rivers
with each inspiration.
The rivers of the poet
do dry inside of him
as he writes,
but it is forever
that they flow in written form
upon the sheets of paper.
That is how
the rivers of the poet
leave and manage to stay
until another river
appears and flows
with another inspiration.
poem by Juan Antonio Rodriguez
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God's Most Publisghed Poet & A Good Poem
GOD'S MOST PUBLISGHED POET
I'm God's most published poet
Whose poems have meter and rhyme.
Stories of love, faith, hate, honor and duty,
Obedience, war, heroes, history and crime.
I've performed my gift on T.V. and radio
Before millions I've never met.
Preached my praise of God and country
With 462 poems on the net.
Satan's soldiers, shepherds and bards
Spew forth their foulness and grief.
They attack the joy and goodness of man
Dishonoring life, family, country and belief.
Prospering through work, love and conviction
Enables us to remain whole and how we should be.
Fortifying our soul with fulfillment of faith
Lets our worst tribulations be shouldered by Thee.
Moses, Samson, David, Solomon and Jonah
All failed God in their own human way.
He chose to forgive them and bless their powers
So they might dwell in hearts of man today.
Without God's grace, wisdom and glorious domain
There's no doubt all would soon cease to survive.
Through purpose, morals and Christian conviction
We are able to transform and keep hope alive.
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent his poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom Zart's 462 Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Support!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
Google = Tom Zart's Radio Shows
Sonnet: God Saves the Righteous Souls
A Righteous man turned one day somewhat bad!
‘His troubles came ’cause he was good, ’ he thought;
More money came, he was now not so sad;
Immersed in worldly things, he God forgot.
For quite some time, his life seemed fine but still,
He felt dissatisfied in mind and heart;
He thought of God one day, when he grew ill,
And thanked Him when he regained health in part.
God helped the man turn upright once again!
His woes came back but faith kept him steadfast;
The upper hand, the devil could not gain;
The man atoned for all his sins of past.
God cannot bear one good soul go to Hell;
He purifies the soul to sooner dwell.
6-18-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Easter- The Resurrection of Jesus Christ and the death of Death!
Lord Jesus Christ has risen from his grave!
The tomb on third day was an empty cave;
The Savior of mankind has done the feat;
The Evil One Satan has got defeat.
The empty tomb of Jesus Christ is proof:
The tomb-stone rolled aside, away from roof;
Yes, Jesus resurrected as forecast;
The sting of death is now a thing of past.
The second Adam has won over death;
The fear of death needn’t haunt someone on earth;
Death is not end but henceforth beginning
Of Life eternal- mankind’s new meaning.
Jesus, the Light has dispelled all darkness,
That hinders men from Heaven’s happiness;
Jesus, the Way leads all souls to Heaven;
Our Road to Heaven has been made even.
The heart of love infinite won o’er death;
No more can death frighten a soul on earth;
The King of Love has conquered death ‘per se’;
This is the key message of Easter Day.
Our sinless Messiah is alive still,
After his death on cross upon the hill;
God’s only Son is Savior of mankind;
Confess your sins of body and of mind.
Jesus, the Truth has triumphed o’er Satan;
And Hope is born afresh that beckons man;
Children of Adam and of Eve are saved;
The road to Heaven’s glory, Jesus paved.
Denied is Satan of power of death-
Sigh of relief for all souls upon earth;
The gate of Heaven’s wide open to all;
We all can go to God, despite our fall.
Death entered earth through Adam and Eve’s sin;
Christ’s Resurrection is also our win;
The warrior of love has conquered death;
Jesus has brought about the death of Death!
The awesome death is now man’s friendly-foe!
Death puts an end to every strife and woe;
The cruel thief is welcome guest of man;
Man need not fear death in his whole life-span.
Death is the way to Eternity now;
Death is not dreadful as it was once, wow!
Man’s body got back sanctity once lost-
Rejuvenating truth to mankind, vast.
No tomb can hold a man’s body for long;
Death’s silence will be broken by life’s song;
The risen Christ has opened up all tombs-
Even for dead, unborn babies in wombs!
The future of all mankind lies in Christ;
‘Our faith in God’- the flag, we ought to hoist;
Follow the Cross and Heaven’s Gate is nigh,
When we are made too kings by One, most High.
Like Christ, all Christians too can resurrect;
Let’s keep our soul without sinful defect;
The rod for sins has also been absolved;
Redemption of mankind has been resolved.
The holy cross of Christ has paid the price
Of freedom of man’s every sin and vice;
Awaits the Lord with banquet feast for us;
Let us prepare our soul now for this Bliss.
‘Easter- Risen Christ and death of Death! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-23-2008
poem by John Celes
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Stand in Faith
Stand in faith
Even when you can't see your way
Stand in faith
Even when you feel like you can't face another day
Stand in faith
Even when the tears want to flow from your eyes
Stand in faith
Knowing that our God will always provide
Stand in faith
Even when you feel that all hope is gone
Stand in faith
Knowing that He is always there for you to lean on
Stand in faith
Even when you feel like giving up
Stand in faith
Because He is there... saying, 'Just look up'
Stand in faith
Even in those times you feel so all alone
Stand in faith
Hold on and be strong, for He is still on the throne
Stand in faith
Even when it's hard to believe
Stand in Faith
Knowing that He can change your situation, suddenly
Stand in faith
Even in those times you feel it's hard to pray
Stand in faith
And believe that He has already made the way
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen
So stand in faith
Because you already have the victory!
poem by Nissa Armstrong
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The God Who Waits
The old men in the olden days,
Who thought and worked in simple ways,
Believed in God and sought His praise.
They looked to God in daily need,
He shone in simple, homely deed;
They prayed to Him to raise their seed.
He sowed on mountain side and weald,
He steered the plough across the field,
He garnered in their harvest yield.
And if He gave them barren sod,
Or smote them with His lightning rod,
They yielded humbly to their God.
They searched the record of their days
To find and mend their evil ways,
Which made the wrath of God to blaze.
And if no evil they could find,
They did not say, 'Our God is blind,'
'God's will be done,' they said, resigned.
So played the old their humble part,
And lived in peace of soul and heart,
Without pretence of Reason's art.
But we have lost their simple creed
Of simple aim and simple need,
Of simple thought and simple deed.
Their creed has crumbled as their dust,
We do not yield their God as just,
Now question holds the place of trust.
Faith blossomed like the Holy Rod,
So grew the old men's faith in God.
We cannot tread the path they trod.
We were not born to anchored creed
That measures good and evil deed -
A guide to those who guidance need.
The God the old men hearkened to
We left, and in our image drew
And fashioned out a God anew.
That iron God, who still unfed,
Sits throned with lips that dribble red
Among the sacrificial dead.
Belching their flames between the bars,
Our fires sweep out like scimitars
Across the Eden of the stars.
And souls are sold and souls are bought,
And souls in hellish tortures wrought
To feed the mighty juggernaut.
The dripping wheels go roaring by
And crush and kill us where we lie
Blaspheming God with our last cry.
Man's cry to man the heaven fills;
We hear not in our marts and mills
The silent voices of the hills
The message of the breathing clay,
Calling us through the night and day
To come away, to come away!
For though old creeds, had we the will,
We cannot, lacking faith, fulfil,
The God above all creed waits still.
For still beyond the city gate,
The fallow fields eternal wait
For us to drive our furrow straight.
poem by Leslie Coulson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. I
TO ONE IN A HIGH POSITION
To you, a poet, glorious, heaven--born,
One who is not a poet but a son
Of the earth earthy, sick and travel--worn
And weary with a race already run,
A battle lost e'er yet his day is done,
Comes with this tribute, shattered banners torn
From a defeat. You reign in Macedon,
My Alexander, as at earlier morn
You reigned upon Parnassus, hero, king.
I reign no more, not even in those hearts
For which these songs were made, and if I sing
'Tis with a harsh and melancholy note
At which my own heart like an echo starts.
Yet sometimes I can deem you listening,
And then all else is instantly forgot.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Rhyming Man
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.
I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.
You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lenexa Poet Most Published On The Web!
LENEXA POET MOST PUBLISHED ON THE WEB!
I’m God’s most humble poet
Whose poems have meter and rhyme.
Stories of love, faith, hate, honor and duty,
Obedience, war, heroes, history and crime.
I’ve performed my gift on T.V. and radio
Before millions I’ve never met.
Preached my praise of God and country
With 450 poems on the net.
Satan’s soldiers, shepherds and bards
Spew forth their foulness and grief.
They attack the joy and goodness of man
Dishonoring life, family, country and belief.
Prospering through work, love and conviction
Enables us to remain whole and how we should be.
Fortifying our soul with fulfillment of faith
Lets our worst tribulations be shouldered by Thee.
Moses, Samson, David, Solomon and Jonah
All failed God in their own human way.
He chose to forgive them and bless their powers
So they might dwell in hearts of man today.
Without God’s grace, wisdom and glorious domain
There’s no doubt all would soon cease to survive.
Through purpose, morals and Christian conviction
We are able to transform and keep hope alive.
GOD’S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it’s God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent his poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can’t help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom Zart Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Love And Support!
By God’s Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
To Listen To Tom Zart’s Poems Go To =
http: //new.pivtr.com/en/schedule/tom-zart/
www.bill crain.net/musicpage.htm
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38
Lenten Season,2009
It’s Lent-time once again;
Make it a boon, not bane;
Empty your soul’s sin-bins;
Let grace of God, souls rinse!
It’s time to pray a lot;
Fasting avoids soul’s rot;
Keep off all deadly sins;
The Holy Spirit wins!
‘We know the foe in depth;
On sinful mud, we slept;
We do all sins again;
Our grace is on the wane! ’
Lent is the time to think;
Our follies, we must shrink;
Let good thoughts fill the mind;
From evil, let’s rescind.
Take care each moment then;
Let’s move nearer heaven;
Keep off satan’s rampage;
Christians have advantage.
Preserve the body pure;
Sufferings, let’s more endure;
The God, most High knows this;
He’ll give us our due bliss!
Pray every now and then;
Read Bible much often;
Read about saints on earth,
Who suffered ev’n from birth!
With God, let’s reconcile;
Sin, bitter is like bile;
Confess as many times;
Say prayers, hymns and rhymes.
Let’s win our divine war;
Heal will our soul’s sin-scar;
Lent is the time aright;
Let’s make our dark lives bright!
Forget the sinful past;
Good things alone will last;
Satan’s a mere actor;
God is the clear victor.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-24-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roof Top Poet
He was known as the roof top poet
He was good, but he wouldn’t show it.
He wrote about everything on the streets
While listening to the Latin beat.
His upbringing inspired him
To write about crime and sin.
He wrote about street drugs everywhere
And dirty needles that they would share.
He played the conga and bongos too
This is what he had learned to do.
There was not a topic that he would not touch
For he loved life much to much.
He wrote about robberies, muggings
And murder, prostitution, gambling
Corruption and all the rest
His talent for street writing made him the best.
But there was a soft side to him
That people did not know
And where ever children needed him
He would go.
He was a volunteer in the children s hospital
And the orphanages too, which was
Something that nobody knew.
He would give them love, affection, and laughter
Wealth or fame he wasn’t after.
He gave them the key elements for the
Children to survive, HOPE, LOVE, FAITH
With hope in their hearts and faith in GOD
There was nothing that they could not do.
If to themselves they would be true.
Now if we could be such as HE
The world would be better for the children you see.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hymn 115
Conviction of sin by the law.
Rom. 7:8,9,14,24.
Lord, how secure my conscience was,
And felt no inward dread!
I was alive without the law,
And thought my sins were dead.
My hopes of heav'n were firm and bright,
But since the precept came
With a convincing power and light,
I find how vile I am.
[My guilt appeared but small before,
Till terribly I saw
How perfect, holy, just, and pure,
Was thine eternal law.
Then felt my soul the heavy load,
My sins revived again
I had provoked a dreadful God,
And all my hopes were slain.]
I'm like a helpless captive, sold
Under the power of sin
I cannot do the good I would,
Nor keep my conscience clean.
My God, I cry with every breath
For some kind power to save,
To break the yoke of sin and death,
And thus redeem the slave.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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