GOD THE KING

>> God/Echad, no matter the Face, <> Madly in Love, with the Human Race <<

GOD THE KING
By Arley Steinhour 102416

There's a 'Virus in my Penmanship,'
That makes you, love your brother,
Starting with, Jesus, and Discipleship,
That makes Satan, almost, Smother.

Our Church/Bride, always working,
Preparing for, Eternal, Life of Joy,
Casting net, where Souls are lurking,
Seeking sustenance, from, the 'Real McCoy.'

Where they are, the water's Dark,
They cannot see, Eternal Light,
Afraid of death, they Strut, and Bark,
At every Passer-by, as if a Blight.

Our, 'Witness-words,' fall on deaf ear,
Only, hear our promise, as if a Lie,
Like, Satan's song, or like 'Flat -- Beer,'
'If you drink enough, you surely Die.'

Jesus waits, quietly, out on the 'Wing,'
He won't challenge your gift of 'Choice,'
Even though, you know, 'He is God the King,'
Satan's lies, choke, 'Restricting your Voice.'

You, toss and turn, throughout the Night,
With dreams of God's, Redeeming Grace,
Sealed in Blood, without, mortal Fight,
God, died on the Cross, to remove, Sin-Trace.

Repent, your Sin, and ask God/Jesus in,
He'll cleanse your heart, of all life's Sin,
Start, walking the Walk, Discipling Him,
His Redemption, Eternal, that part, We Win.

AMEN