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The Day You Came
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

Afraid, alone, quite down and out

So sad, most days I’d cry

I’d lived this way, so plagued with doubt

I’d often wished to die   

 

But when You came, when darkness fled

Your Light made true love mine

Such peace great joy when we were wed

Seeing our lives entwine

 

I sang, I danced, I knelt in prayer

You severed; Satan’s ties

When chains fell off, whilst sitting there

This child; began to rise

 

To sights, beyond my wildest dreams

Suspended in mid air

I felt Your power flow in streams

A foot above my chair

 

Plainly I heard Your voice on high

“Today! You’re born anew”

You know my God I tell no lie

These words of mine are true

 

You shared with me Your living word

How warm was Your embrace

When in my room, I felt and heard

Your Wind sweep round my face

 

I’d never heard, Your voice before

I’d never felt such love

But when I opened wide my door

You came and gave Life’s Dove

 

My Saviour reigns inside of me

I feel my Master’s hand

Cleansing my soul keeping me free

Until Your Promised Land.....

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Submitted: Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Last Updated: Thursday, November 9, 2017

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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