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Guilty as the Devil's Spawn
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

We’re guilty as the devil’s spawn

A stench to Heaven high

Unless through Christ a soul’s reborn

We’re bound in sin to die

 

To die, to rise on judgement day

With the least and with great

With those who still have debts to pay

Screaming at hell’s wide gate 

 

No pocket has the final dress

For silver gold nor jewels

Here all sin must we all confess

For breaking Heaven’s rules

 

“Too late too late” the call will rise

Where life was lived in vain

The Truth revealed to shameful eyes

Will herald endless pain

 

But Jesus sees the future clear

To Him all lives lay bare

So those who live in reverent fear

Eternal life may share

 

The time is now the place is right

Repent from deeds of shame

Seek righteousness put sin to flight

In Christ’s most holy name

 

Seek out The King whilst yet we may

The Lamb who came and died

Receive Him as your Lord today

And turn the wayward tide

 

Its not too late where still there’s breath

Regardless of our past

Escape the pit flee certain death

Before the dye is cast.....

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Submitted: Monday, August 8, 2016

Last Updated: Monday, August 8, 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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