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

When Jesus died then rose again

When most on earth walked blind

When life mostly was lived in vain

But procreate mankind

 

Though God had revealed His being

Gave up His Lamb to die

Through most selfish eyes unseeing

Few saw the reason why

 

Man’s life was harsh most hearts grown cold

To what their father’s taught

Even to what The Scriptures told

They doubted God’s report

 

Though Jesus stood there before them

Their hearts refused to yield

Although a maid touching His hem

Miraculously was healed

 

The plagued, the blind the sick, the lame

The dead were healed and raised

By rich and poor in Jesus came

Heaven was somewhat praised

 

The devil was alive and well

Busy all day and night

Charming vulnerable into hell

Robbing the doubtful light

 

Then came the day of Pentecost

As one praising God’s Son

Hundred and twenty souls once lost

Received The Promised One

 

God’s Wind blew loud Fire came down

Power was given free

“Up village streets down roads to town

Go teach the world to see”.....

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Submitted: Thursday, June 21, 2018

Last Updated: Friday, June 22, 2018

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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