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On Streets Of Gold
Viewed Last 24 Hours: 1 time

By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

Daily still my heart grows fonder

Within my Saviour’s hand

Looking through the far blue yonder

To what The Lord has planned

 

Eternity will all dismay

Beyond my Father’s door

Even the hint now on display  

Just leaves my soul in awe        

 

What miracles will eyes behold?

What will the morn unfurl?

Where even streets are pure gold

And gates are all of pearl

 

To see the things no eye has seen

Beauty to blow one’s mind

Witnessing things that’s never been

Before one’s eyes unwind

 

Wonders beyond man’s wildest dreams

Grace beyond all measure

Abundance in deep flowing streams

For those who Jesus treasure

 

We’ll drink sweet joy consume delights

Receive forever more

O Lord my God what marvellous sights

Such wonders lie before

 

Ecstasy within Your hand

Excitement overflows

What more, sweet Lord has Heaven planned?

What else can love expose?

 

Looking higher ever deeper 

Miracles everywhere

Oh my God my Lord my Keeper 

What more could still You share.....?

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Submitted: Saturday, August 6, 2016

Last Updated: Saturday, August 6, 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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