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True Love's Hand
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

 

True Love's Hand

 

We wander lonely as a cloud

For gold our lives to fill

Bustling with the maddening crowd

Opposed to Heaven’s will

 

The devil has us running wild

Satan at beck and call

Till lost, bogged down, filthy, defiled

How deeper can we fall?

 

Yet still for more we seek, we strive

Demonic wares to buy

Wheeling dealing we seem to thrive

But then one day we die

 

Aghast we’ll see it’s not the end

‘Too late’ sad souls will say

But knees no more to Christ can bend

For peace to come our way

 

We’ll see the root of all our fears

The Truth of Christ on high

We’ll rant, rave, shed countless tears

But none will hear our cry

 

However much we understand

Of life’s deep flowing stream

Has God not in His mighty hand?

The answer to one’s dream

 

He’s Christ, He’s Lord The King of love

The Prince of peace divine

Calling all sinners from above

To drink of Heaven’s wine

 

Accept The Truth Receive The Light

Vacate your house of sand

Depart from shadows of the night

Take hold of true love’s hand….. 

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Submitted: Sunday, December 13, 2015

Last Updated: Sunday, May 1, 2016

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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