Hot Sting of Satan

I'm sitting, no longer in PC chair,
I've gone Home, Way Up There,
Leaving clothing, my normal 'fare;'
I Give them Away, I won't Care,

I'm Wearing a Crown of Purest Gold,
Robe of White, and Sandals Thick Soled,
Devoid of Stains or any Wrinkle,
Eternally having a New Sound Crinkle.

Hot Sting of Satan
By Arley Steinhour 070916

Brothers, and Sisters, please, Look Around,
At the Brothers and Sisters, that, now, Abound,
Open your Arms, hug them, where Found,
Hug, not, just them, but Jesus, The Crowned.

King of all Kings, Lord of all Lords,
Up from the least, of Kingdom's Hordes,
Like Noah's Arc, requiring, many 'Boards,'
He'll fill our Souls, with many 'Rewards.'

As I promise, many Hugs, from me,
For helping Poems take Wing, Sea to Sea,
All of my Praises, and Poems, Fly Free,
Like, Kites, in the Sky, for all to See.

Shining on Pathway, to Jesus' Throne,
As we arrive, be it Corporate, or Alone,
The Greatest Arrival, is in Teleportation,
In blink of Eye, Church/Bride, is Home.

Don't lower your gaze, or you might miss the Ride,
Flying Upward, to Heaven, with our Jesus, Espied,
Taking care, in our Flight, that we don't Collide,
So filled with Joy, Pain, no way, can we Abide.

Surrender your heart, make Jesus your King,
You and the Church, will surely take Wing,
To spend Eternity, in Praise, a Chorale, we'll Sing,
Never More, will we feel, Satan's Hot Sting.

AMEN