Your Lambs 'know,' those here below,
From Satan's switch, you soon Redeem,
And, in your House, Sweet Love we'll know,
Eternal, Supernal, like, Peaches-n-Cream.
End of Story
By Arley Steinhour 012313
Dear Father God, don't spare the Rod,
For what 'we' are doing to your Name,
We swear and plod, as if we be god,
To escape, self-claiming Your Fame.
'Go for the throat,' speak yet more 'Goat,'
As we forsake 'Safe Harbor,' for World,
Christian Martyr numbers, rot and bloat,
Increasing daily, Satan's flag unfurled.
Dark Fervor grows, thinking You're slow,
As Satan's hatreds reach Fever pitch,
Quite few will know, we here below,
You've saved from harm, and Satan's switch.
To You, the Glory, 'End of Story,'
Looming large, on yonder hill,
Close Gentile era, in times quite gory,
As Israel 'swallows,' Messiah Pill.
Tribulation Saints sing, and praise your Name,
Even the 'Goat' will bend their knee,
Before Messiah, of Biblical Fame,
As Your Kingdom, Forever Be.