Iron and Mired Clay, Last Call, and the Toes Itch, perhaps??
By Arley Steinhour 051411
As Christians gather in Churches bright,
Without concern for the Hate filled night;
While other members of Jesus' light,
Will no more wage the mortal fight.
The hordes of Hell come through the gate,
To take life from all that they do hate;
Hearts filled with rancor, won't dissipate,
Some, in the way, find God too late.
God looks down at all gone wrong,
Hatred has lived for way too long;
Those who love hide behind a song,
Thinking those, dieing, do not belong.
Your Holy Words, speak straight to heart,
Tribulation would be, right from the start;
The path is there to choose the sinful part,
Many chose this 'wide' path, on the Chart.
'Cry out,' you say, 'awaken all who will,'
Let all who hear know, the world is ill;
To know the truth, and keep silent still,
Means you chose to swallow, a 'Bitter Pill.'
Knowing Truth, and silent be,
Proves the root, of long dead tree;
Nere produce fruit, nor ere to see,
Father, Son, and Ghost, the Holy Three.
For them, no cheek, no guiding light,
Always mad, and ready to fight;
Forever searching for the perfect right,
Lost to God, in Dark of Night.
Of all the sin filled, hope for yet a few,
Tribulation purges dross, and makes anew;
The Saints of God, Hell on Earth, askew,
Pay the price of wrath, but come out brand-new.
For those, who wait, or follow, sin filled path,
Open heart to Jesus, to be free from His Wrath;
Salvation through Grace, become Holy Lath,
Proudly counted His Child, in God's Holy Math.