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Come My Child
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

Come My Child
 

    

“I came to earth a mere child

I died that you may live

That you can now be reconciled

To Him who loves to give

 

I am your God I love and care

I long to meet man’s need

But when you shun my house of prayer

My heart begins to bleed

 

So heed my child my quiet voice

The Truth that speaks to you

Arise make Christ my Son your choice

Allow Him make you new

 

Child don’t you know I love you so?

I made you with my hand

Come drink of life that you may grow

And live as always planned

 

A day will dawn when all will shake

When all not mine, will fall

To burn in hell’s eternal lake

For heeding not my call

 

I call because I love you dear

A love I cannot hide

Allow me take your doubt and fear

Allow me live inside

 

My life my wealth with you I’ll share

I’ll heal your flesh and bone

A robe of light I’ll give to wear

Give me your heart of stone

 

 With love a golden crown I’ll give

Upon your hand a ring

My pledge forever more to live

And true love’s song to sing”.....

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Submitted: Friday, July 22, 2011

Last Updated: Tuesday, November 18, 2014

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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