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Who Could Imagine
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

 

Who Could Imagine

 

What did I say, what did I do?

What reason could there be?

Why was I blessed with Heaven’s Dew

Making these eyes to see

 

I’m still confused I must confess

Walking through life as dead

What caused my God my soul to bless?

Why did You raise my head?

 

Thank You for faith for life’s increase

Calling me whilst astray

For health for wealth for joy for peace

And Truth to show The Way

 

I thank You for The Living Light

Thank You for all You’ve done

For wisdom knowledge for Heaven’s might

Through Christ Your Lamb & Son

 

Thank You for His arms held wide

Revealing me Your love

Inviting me to come inside

And soar to life above

 

You know how wrong my path has been

How evil were my eyes

Even my thought I know You’ve seen

Full of deceit and lies

 

Thus more amazing is Your grace

Your tenderness and care

That I may see my Saviour’s face

May reap of Heaven’s share

 

Through Jesus’ death I’m reconciled      

His stripes have made me whole

Through rising now I am Your child

In body heart and soul….. 

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Submitted: Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Last Updated: Monday, October 31, 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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