In The
She came and stood in the Old South Church,
A wonder and a sign,
With a look the old-time sibyls wore,
Half-crazed and half-divine.
Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound,
Unclothed as the primal mother,
With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed
With a fire she dare not smother.
Loose on her shoulders fell her hair,
With sprinkled ashes gray;
She stood in the broad aisle strange and weird
As a soul at the judgment day.
And the minister paused in his sermon's midst,
And the people held their breath,
For these were the words the maiden spoke
Through lips as the lips of death:
'Thus saith the Lord, with equal feet
All men my courts shall tread,
And priest and ruler no more shall eat
My people up like bread!
'Repent! repent! ere the Lord shall speak
In thunder and breaking seals
Let all souls worship Him in the way
His light within reveals.'
She shook the dust from her naked feet,
And her sackcloth closer drew,
And into the porch of the awe-hushed church
She passed like a ghost from view.
They whipped her away at the tail o' the cart
Through half the streets of the town,
But the words she uttered that day nor fire
Could burn nor water drown.
And now the aisles of the ancient church
By equal feet are trod,
And the bell that swings in its belfry rings
Freedom to worship God!
And now whenever a wrong is done
It thrills the conscious walls;
The stone from the basement cries aloud
And the beam from the timber calls.
There are steeple-houses on every hand,
And pulpits that bless and ban,
And the Lord will not grudge the single church
That is set apart for man.
For in two commandments are all the law
And the prophets under the sun,
And the first is last and the last is first,
And the twain are verily one.
So, long as Boston shall Boston be,
And her bay-tides rise and fall,
Shall freedom stand in the Old South Church
And plead for the rights of all!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Related quotes
Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Landmarks
I.
THROUGH the streets of Marblehead
Fast the red-winged terror sped;
Blasting, withering, on it came,
With its hundred tongues of flame,
Where St. Michael's on its way
Stood like chained Andromeda,
Waiting on the rock, like her,
Swift doom or deliverer!
Church that, after sea-moss grew
Over walls no longer new,
Counted generations five,
Four entombed and one alive;
Heard the martial thousand tread
Battleward from Marblehead;
Saw within the rock-walled bay
Treville's liked pennons play,
And the fisher's dory met
By the barge of Lafayette,
Telling good news in advance
Of the coming fleet of France!
Church to reverend memories, dear,
Quaint in desk and chandelier;
Bell, whose century-rusted tongue
Burials tolled and bridals rung;
Loft, whose tiny organ kept
Keys that Snetzler's hand had swept;
Altar, o'er whose tablet old
Sinai's law its thunders rolled!
Suddenly the sharp cry came
'Look! St. Michael's is aflame!'
Round the low tower wall the fire
Snake-like wound its coil of ire.
Sacred in its gray respect
From the jealousies of sect,
'Save it,' seemed the thought of all,
'Save it, though our roof-trees fall!'
Up the tower the young men sprung;
One, the bravest, outward swung
By the rope, whose kindling strands
Smoked beneath the holder's hands,
Smiting down with strokes of power
Burning fragments from the tower.
Then the gazing crowd beneath
Broke the painful pause of breath;
Brave men cheered from street to street,
With home's ashes at their feet;
Houseless women kerchiefs waved:
'Thank the Lord! St. Michael's saved!'
II.
In the heart of Boston town
Stands the church of old renown,
From whose walls the impulse went
Which set free a continent;
From whose pulpit's oracle
Prophecies of freedom fell;
And whose steeple-rocking din
Rang the nation's birth-day in!
Standing at this very hour
Perilled like St. Michael's tower,
Held not in the clasp of flame,
But by mammon's grasping claim.
Shall it be of Boston said
She is shamed by Marblehead?
City of our pride! as there,
Hast thou none to do and dare?
Life was risked for Michael's shrine;
Shall not wealth be staked for thine?
Woe to thee, when men shall search
Vainly for the Old South Church;
When from Neck to Boston Stone,
All thy pride of place is gone;
When from Bay and railroad car,
Stretched before them wide and far,
Men shall only see a great
Wilderness of brick and slate,
Every holy spot o'erlaid
By the commonplace of trade!
City of our love': to thee
Duty is but destiny.
True to all thy record saith,
Keep with thy traditions faith;
Ere occasion's overpast,
Hold its flowing forelock fast;
Honor still the precedents
Of a grand munificence;
In thy old historic way
Give, as thou didst yesterday
At the South-land's call, or on
Need's demand from fired St. John.
Set thy Church's muffled bell
Free the generous deed to tell.
Let thy loyal hearts rejoice
In the glad, sonorous voice,
Ringing from the brazen mouth
Of the bell of the Old South,--
Ringing clearly, with a will,
'What she was is Boston still!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Church Of Women
A lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Church of women is made out of milk
Which their love turns to butter -er -er
Church of women will have you give praise
With a laugh, bark and stutter -er -er
Like us men like us men they are nothing like us men
Men have gargoyles round their hearts
Im on my knees but dancing
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Church of women is making donations of loving and giving -ing -ing
Church of women performing that miracle raising the living -ing -ing
Like us men like us men will they ever like us men?
Men have thorns around their minds
Im on my mountain preaching
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Give em back their house: the walls, the doors, the floors and roof
And stop tryin to diet on the wafers and wine and submit were in control
Now lets put things right
Lets multiply the loves and kisses
til we have enough to love and eat forever
Want to worship at the church of women
I want to worship at the church of women now
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Ill breathe em in until my head goes spinning round
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Want to worship at the church of women
(repeat x3 and fade)
song performed by by Xtc

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Searching For a Church?
After your long and weary search, have you found the perfect church?
A simple church ruled by men; the perfect church you can’t condemn.
Or do they all appear the same, just another building with His Name?
And once inside you’re not sure, if you feel the presence of The Lord.
There’s only one true Church of God, upon this earth that all men trod.
That is The Church of Jesus Christ, and bought by Jesus, with His life.
God’s Church has no denomination, for in Christ is only one Salvation.
His Church has no walls my friend; it has a beginning but has no end.
Christ’s Church began at Pentecost, not for the righteous, but the lost.
His Church is made of sinful men, whom by God were all condemned.
But redeemed with a special price, when His Son became a sacrifice.
Then dipped into a cleansing flood; sinners purified by Christ’s Blood.
Are you looking to men to find, God’s forgiveness and peace of mind?
My friend, are you truly not that sure, where you can go to be secure?
Christ’s first Church had no steeple, and was filled with humble people.
Humble people who gave their life, to reach the world for Jesus Christ.
If you’re still searching for a church, you should end your weary search.
The Church is men like you and me, saved by Christ’s work on Calvary.
Nothing’s been added to the cross, except sinners who once were lost,
Since, they’ve entered in The Door, and now belong to Christ The Lord.
(Copyright ©04/2006)

Psalm 135 part 1
v.1-4,14,19-21
L. M.
The church is God's house and care.
Praise ye the Lord, exalt his name,
While in his holy courts ye wait,
Ye saints, that to his house belong,
Or stand attending at his gate.
Praise ye the Lord, the Lord is good;
To praise his name is sweet employ:
Isr'el he chose of old, and still
His church is his peculiar joy.
The Lord himself will judge his saints;
He treats his servants as his friends;
And when he hears their sore complaints,
Repents the sorrows that he sends.
Through every age the Lord declares
His name, and breaks th' oppressor's rod
He gives his suff'ring servants rest,
And will be known th' Almighty God.
Bless ye the Lord, who taste his love,
People and priest, exalt his name:
Amongst his saints he ever dwells;
His church is his Jerusalem.
poem by Isaac Watts

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His True Church
I know many religious people, and one Church with no steeple,
A church that’s built with no walls, built on only believing souls,
Built upon an Eternal Foundation, that being our very Salvation,
Built upon The One Cornerstone, and that is Jesus Christ alone.
Many, who worship in a building, to Truth alone, are unyielding,
Building a church on tradition, God’s Truth, with man’s addition,
Added to the work finished by, Jesus Christ who reigns on high,
Ignoring His words “it is finished”, Grace by many is diminished.
Men making a way to Heaven, not by grace but religious leaven,
Building church in a human way, as they lead many souls astray,
As many souls weekly perch, in the pews of a manmade church,
Relying on their religious activity, to help them work into eternity.
“I will build my Church” He said, that was Christ, who is the Head,
Head of His True Church on earth, filled with souls, by New Birth,
All members being Born Again, into His Church, not one of men,
You’ll find, you no longer search, as a member of God’s Church.
Jesus is the Way, Truth and Life, as Head of the Church of Christ,
And each of us is a living stone, built through faith in Christ alone,
His Church He proceeds to build, to complete as His Father willed,
Leading the only True Church friend, as others shall see in the end.
Corporate Worship
Most Believers gather corporately, to worship The Eternal Creator,
The Lamb of God from Calvary, The Lord our God and our Savior;
Believers are filled by God's Word, to guide us all through this life,
As we're led, by all we have heard, from the words of Jesus Christ.
We too are filled with Christ's Spirit, as He dwells within our hearts,
Moved in Truth, this as we hear it, as Truth to us His Spirit imparts;
And so we worship God in Truth; Words of Truth from God above,
With our life as His living proof, when we display a Christ like love.
All God's people worship in liberty, being freed through the blood,
From the rugged cross of Calvary, controlled by the Spirit of God;
We must worship in full unity, as Christ's Body, through New Birth,
Worshiping The God of Eternity, as God's Church, upon this earth.
Believers value the Church's history, the people of God in the past,
As we journey forward to eternity, a time for all that will forever last;
Believers value God's present ways, as we worship Christ together,
Lifting up to The Lord our praise, till one day we praise Him forever.
Indeed we value all people of God, together, for one Great Mission,
Believers across this earth we trod, fulfilling His Great Commission;
So we gather as God's people, remembering God's Great Sacrifice,
Moving beyond church and steeple, to bring others to Jesus Christ.
Funeral Of A Child
Three years ago, I passed a little church
While I walked on my way
Sorrow rang out from the steeple bells
As in the cemetery a group of people gathered
I stopped to watch for a moment
A small coffin being carried to the graveside
Where soon it would be laid
The priest stood beside it and slowly said
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away
We commit this child into the arms of the Lord
For his safe keeping for ever and ever
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
At the graveside I could see in the scene
A young girl about nineteen and young man about twenty one
Both were heartbroken because it was their child
Their one any only son
Being laid to rest, but never to be forgotten
I turned to go on my way, when I saw from the grave
A stairway to the sky appear
On each step an angel stood all looking young and fair
I stood astonished for a while
As up the stairs walked a child
From that day to this I wonder all the time
What was the meaning of this sign
(Date written unknown)
poem by David Harris

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Some Have Steeples. Some Don't
What do I think of church?
'Yes! '
Church?
Like in 'church' church?
'Yes! '
Well...
Some have steeples.
Some don't.
Some have people.
Some wont.
Some are religiously political.
And some are politically religious.
My vehicle is my church.
And that's all I care about.
'Oh?
So your 'car' is your church? '
Oh.
No no!
My 'body' is my church.
It is my sanctuary.
Now...
Keep in mind,
I am not devoted to keep it as pure,
As it should be.
But I do the best I can,
Not to be led away by temptation.
But everyday I pray to be forgiven,
Of those 'sins' I know I should not enjoy!
However...
You can find me anytime,
Self righteously defending...
My point of view.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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What Do You Call it?
What do you call it, when you have a disability,
And once your were at a church, and now you're not;
But no one from the church comes but say excuse me,
I cannot be there, I no longer can cope, did I put them in a spot?
What do you call it, is it an excuse, or am I contagious at all?
If your in a wheelchair, Being in a church my problem is small;
Why can't look past the chair, and see my need, today,
Even a phone call would help, but their heart says no way.
What do they call it, If some one is not so very well,
And can't get to church, pain is bad, they won't hear when I tell;
That I need fellowship from folks, so I don't shrink,
But they don't listen, their brains just don't think.
What does God call it, to leave a Christian alone,
That isn't very well, and yet, no one will ring on the phone;
I thought the Lord taught us, think of others first,
And when one is unwell, they shouldn't allow their bubble to burst.
Please Lord! Help me to have fellowship in some way,
When I can't get to church, they'd come some day;
It hurts to be left, with no calls, cards, or visitors as well,
Please Lord, make them think, to make my phone to bell.
poem by Margaret Haig

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Church
The Church is Church my brother, a place to meet with one another,
A place to meet with our Lord, where grace and mercy are implored,
That place for worship and praise, lifted up to The Ancient of Days,
Men gathering, to bring glory to, The One Who created me and you.
Church is a body of those, who know, The Lord and desire to grow,
In the knowledge of Christ our Lord, as Christ's Body in one accord,
A place to encourage others in Christ, while living in this present life,
Support, that we can only receive, from men in life who also believe.
Church is more than a gathering, of men together to praise and sing,
As it's a place to seek The Lord, who, by love makes us one accord,
As believers are in the presence of, Jesus Christ, Who reigns above,
As Christ builds us together in unity, through the power from Calvary.
The local Church is the very heart, of The Savior's mission, to impart,
The very Truth of God's Salvation, in reaching each and every nation,
The Lord scattered His early Church, for His mission of greater worth,
So that as His Church, we could herald, God's Truth into all the world.
Today's Mission, is still the same, when Believers gather in His Name,
To focus upon our Lord God first, while The Savior builds His Church,
As The Lord grants direction to, His Living Stones, that's me and you,
To finish God's purpose, through us, all, for the glory of Christ Jesus.
(Copyright ©11/2012)
‘holy Family Church House-warming, Perundurai, T.n.’
Excerpt from Dr John Celes’ Welcome Speech
(to be held on 05-02-2010)
The Shepherd comes to meet his flock,
And bless the church that’s newly built,
Wherein an older church had stood on rock –
A sacred ground of prayer for Catholics!
Let’s welcome him; let’s welcome him, ye sheep!
He brings with him his staff that protects us;
This is the time our hearts with joy must weep;
The anointing will give us greater bliss.
Let’s thank the Lord for giving us this house
Of prayer to worship the ‘King of kings’;
Let everyone take Jesus Christ as spouse,
And tread the road to heaven as earthlings.
The Church though small looks splendidly laid out;
It has been christened ‘Holy Family Church’;
Our parish is a small one without doubt,
Nevertheless, peeps in internet-search!
The flock is one led by our parish priest,
Father Claudius, a dynamic, young man!
Who works hard without mistakes in the least;
‘May God give him good health and long life-span! ’
Our heart-felt thanks to Bishop and all souls
Who gave the land for building the new Church;
Our hearty thanks to all who played new roles,
And doled the sums that can now help to preach.
God made it possible to build His house!
Let’s worship Him with masses, hymns and pray;
Let’s reach the world at the click of a mouse!
And preach the Word of God by night and day.
We thank You God for giving us this place,
And worship Jesus Christ, as a family;
Let sweat of foreheads reinforce this base,
And help to rear this provident LILY!
Dedicated to: The Most. Rev. Dr. Thomas Aquinas M.A., DCL.,
Bishop of Coimbatore diocese
Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius, the Parish priest and
All parishners of ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai, T.N., ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-11-2010
poem by John Celes

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Before Choir
She pulled you
into the porch
of the church
and kissed your
lips while others
made their way
inside for choir
practice and no
one seemed to
miss you for the
time it took for
a kiss or two and
as you made your
way back around
the church along
the path between
graves half lit in the
moon’s light she held
your hand giving it
a squeeze and now
and then beneath a
later moon’s glow
with stars like glittering
coins in the sky you
imagine she is there
again and didn’t die.
poem by Terry Collett

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The Letters
Still on the tower stood the vane,
A black yew gloomed the stagnant air,
I peered athwart the chancel pane
And saw the altar cold and bare.
A clog of lead was round my feet,
A band of pain across my brow;
"Cold altar, Heaven and earth shall meet
Before you hear my marriage vow."
I turned and hummed a bitter song
That mocked the wholesome human heart,
And then we met in wrath and wrong,
We met, but only met to part.
Full cold my greeting was and dry;
She faintly smiled, she hardly moved;
I saw with half-unconscious eye
She wore the colours I approved.
She took the little ivory chest,
With half a sigh she turned the key,
Then raised her head with lips comprest,
And gave my letters back to me.
And gave the trinkets and the rings,
My gifts, when gifts of mine could please;
As looks a father on the things
Of his dead son, I looked on these.
She told me all her friends had said;
I raged against the public liar;
She talked as if her love were dead,
But in my words were seeds of fire.
"No more of love; your sex is known:
I never will be twice deceived.
Henceforth I trust the man alone,
The woman cannot be believed.
Through slander, meanest spawn of Hell -
And woman's slander is the worst,
And you, whom once I loved so well,
Through you, my life will be accurst."
I spoke with heart, and heat and force,
I shook her breast with vague alarms -
Like torrents from a mountain's source
We rushed into each other's arms.
We parted: sweetly gleamed the stars,
And sweet the vapour-braided blue,
Low breezes fanned the belfry bars,
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appeared to smile,
So fresh they rose in shadowed swells;
"Dark porch," I said, "and silent aisle,
There comes a sound of marriage bells."
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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When That Trumpet Sounds
Most people around today can’t see the darkness through the gloom,
But this very darkness is one sign that The Lord is coming back soon.
Paul spoke of a time when this very evil would get worse and worse,
But, before God judges this evil, Christ will remove His Church first.
For the wrath of God has been revealed against all this Godlessness,
A Day of Judgment against all who suppress the Truth by wickedness.
But Christ gave many promises to all, who believe and walk His path,
One of those is that The Church has not been saved to suffer wrath.
For Christ gave Himself for all men to redeem us from all wickedness,
His Grace has appeared to all and helps us say No to all Godlessness.
As man, apart from Christ, is destined to face Judgment for his sin,
Christ will come again with Salvation for all those waiting for Him.
Paul spoke of a day, that when it comes, for many will be a mystery,
A day when The Lord Himself will change our mortal into immortality.
When in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, The Last Trumpet sounds,
We in The Church who are still alive will be caught up in the clouds.
After The Church is caught up together to be forever with The Lord,
God’s Righteous Judgment, for those who remain, will be at the door,
As the darkness around us gets darker there’s really no need to fear,
For as a Child of God, when that Trumpet sounds we’ll be otta here.
(Copyright © 05/2002)
The next to last pew
An old man was at church last Sunday
He sat in the next to last pew
I slid into the seat right next to him
And gave a him a friendly “hi-dee-do”
He gave me a nod with his time worn brow
Then swiveled his head all around
While his gaze sized up the parishioners
His ears seemed to soak up their sound
His sad gaze seemed to pick out each person
One by one, as he seemed to stare into their soul
To some he nodded, in an approving way
While to others his look was ice cold
I asked if he was a member of this church
I said I wasn’t familiar with him, was he new?
He smiled a soft smile and shook his head no
Said “I’m here most of the time…
here in this next to last pew”
I said “what do you think of our little church”
He rubbed his hands through his hair of silver grey
Looked deep in my eyes and gave a soft, sad sigh
And said “you may not like what I have to say”
He said “ Son, I can see into the soul of these people
And to you, what I say is on the level”
That Most are fools in the eyes of the Lord
The rest are pawns in the hands of the devil
I looked all around at my fellow church-goers
Of whom he spoke, I knew of more than a few
And when I turned back to allow “that could be so”
I was all alone in the next to last pew!
poem by David Whalen

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Psalm 118
v.22-27
S. M.
An hosanna for the Lord's day; or, A new song of salvation by Christ.
See what a living stone
The builders did refuse;
Yet God hath built his church thereon,
In spite of envious Jews.
The scribe and angry priest
Reject thine only Son;
Yet on this Rock shall Zion rest,
As the chief corner-stone.
The work, O Lord, is thine,
And wondrous in our eyes;
This day declares it all divine,
This day did Jesus rise.
This is the glorious day
That our Redeemer made;
Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray,
Let all the church be glad.
Hosanna to the King
Of David's royal blood;
Bless him, ye saints, he comes to bring
Salvation from your God.
We bless thine holy word,
Which all this grace displays;
And offer on thine altar, Lord,
Our sacrifice of praise.
poem by Isaac Watts

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The Church-Porches
I
(To M.F.R.)
SISTER, first shake we off the dust we have
Upon our feet, lest it defile the stones
Inscriptured, covering their sacred bones
Who lie i' the aisles which keep the names they gave,
Their trust abiding round them in the grave;
Whom painters paint for visible orisons,
And to whom sculptors pray in stone and bronze;
Their voices echo still like a spent wave.
Without here, the church-bells are but a tune,
And on the carven church-door this hot noon
Lays all its heavy sunshine here without:
But having entered in, we shall find there
Silence, and sudden dimness, and deep prayer,
And faces of crowned angels all about.
II
(To C.G.R.)
SISTER, arise: We have no more to sing
Or say. The priest abideth as is meet
To minister. Rise up out of thy seat,
Though peradventure 'tis an irksome thing
To cross again the threshold of our King
Where His doors stand against the evil street,
And let each step increase upon our feet
The dust we shook from them at entering.
Must we of very sooth go home? The air,
Whose heat outside makes mist that can be seen,
Is very clear and cool where we have been.
The priest abideth ministering. Lo!
As he for service, why not we for prayer?
It is so bidden, sister, let us go.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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Church & The Perfect Fit
Too loose.Too long.Too short.Too big.Too small.
Describes most of the clothes we wear.
Like finding the right church that's the perfect fit
Is always a struggle of hope, patience and prayer.
God wants us to fit together with one another
With our beliefs, attitudes, patriotism and love.
No church is perfect cause their run by men
As we assemble our souls to praise Heaven above.
David wrote; 'I Know O Lord Your judgement is right'
For he was aware of what happens when we stray
It helps us maintain our moral servitude
When we gather at church, sing, worship and pray.
Christ takes each sin, each pain, each loss,
So that our lives exalt His name.
And by the power of His sacrifice upon the cross
He transforms our brokeness, weakness and shame.
We Know The End
As the times get darker my friend, praise The Lord we know the end.
And as the times get dark as night, as believers we can see the light.
As we’ve received a great revelation, from The Lord of our salvation.
The book John was inspired to write, ends in the Hope of God’s Light.
God through John reveals to all, the final consequences of man’s fall.
That every man and every nation, shall experience Great Tribulation,
In a time when judgment is poured, upon the earth by Christ our Lord.
Upon a wicked and sinful world, as the Lord’s future wrath is unfurled.
The book begins with letters to, the seven Churches Christ foreknew.
Local Churches or Ages friend, the Church’s presence soon will end.
The voice of a trumpet John would hear, from above to come up here.
At that point, The Church of Christ, from upon the earth is out of sight.
And then John points us to a scroll, and to The One who is in control.
It is Jesus Christ, the Worthy Lamb, who opens up the scroll at hand.
In the scroll The Lord reveals, His mighty judgments of Seven Seals.
Then the Seven Trumpets come, these too are revealed by The Son.
Ending in Seven Bowls of judgment, for The Lord above won’t relent.
Upon His enemies He won’t relent, until all His Wrath on evil is spent.
Indeed it will be a dark time to come, up until the return of God’s Son,
Who raptured His Beloved Bride, so all believers could be at His side,
While God judges the earth below, and with a power that all will know.
But while The Church is here my friend, you can still change your end.
Come and follow the narrow path, and you too will avoid God’s Wrath.
Make the only choice that’s right; today come into God’s Glorious Light.
Then when God’s Wrath is poured, you too will be above with The Lord.
(Copyright ©01/2006)