Priest

Through all the chapters of life's play
my flock I ever did beseech
the Holy Church’s sacred way
to follow, for the truth we teach, -
so all on the appointed day
St. Peter’s charity may stay

Through all life’s verses I’d allay
here fears, there tears, e’er sought to reach
the hearts of youth, the old, hair grey,
within my fold I’d always preach
that light eternal will array
all who do fight firm, don’t betray.

I wonder what to think of they
whose scarlet sins will never bleach,
who pawn their future lives for pay,
for silver coin their souls, - for each
Thy mercy, Lord, I humbly pray,
lest they should stoop ‘neath Satan’s sway.

Since souls are struck by doubt, dismay,
like driftwood stranded on life’s beach,
and since soon stiffens mortal clay,
contrite repentance is my speech: -
may those who He has drawn away
as angels rise at Judgement Day.

poem by Jonathan Robin (29 July 1975)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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