Songbird of Jesus
May 5th, 2007, 02:37 PM
Remember the Prodigal Son
How many times I wonder.
How often I fall short.
When my faith begins to fade.
And becomes a trial or a sport.
Questions arise in my mind.
Doubts invade my troubled heart.
A veil attempts to make me blind,
To tear my faith apart.
Questions of uncertainty,
Makes my many sorrows rise.
Until I feel the darkness,
Of embracing things which I despise.
My flailing arms seeks stable balance,
As I stand at this abyss.
As my memory of His ways He shown,
So often forgotten or entirely missed.
Will I still be living here,
To see Isaiah 17?
And still hold true to the blessed hope,
As things fade to brown from green?
The sun is setting, and my questions increase,
And the day is getting late.
Will I bear witness to the fires,
Of Ezekiel 38?
Like a prisoner, behind the gate,
Longing to be free.
I feel this very expectation,
Watching the beast rise from the sea.
I listen for the rattling key,
Which turns the lock of this mortal cage.
Awaiting a golden deliverance,
Foretold by a Thessalonian sage.
So will I be counted worthy Lord,
To escape the coming night?
Or shall I be left behind,
To endure this epic fight?
He said, "Do not fear, my dear young child,
Your battle is already won.
It’s been paid in full, by My blood,
Remember the prodigal son.
For verily I say, he too fled,
And left his father standing distraught.
Seeking the wasted things of this world,
He missed the things which couldn’t be bought.
Returning to his father in desperation,
He felt the guiding Hand above.
Then came forth, a great jubilee,
Filled with the riches of My hope and love."
Written by:
Richard (Jim) Minch
3/22/06
How many times I wonder.
How often I fall short.
When my faith begins to fade.
And becomes a trial or a sport.
Questions arise in my mind.
Doubts invade my troubled heart.
A veil attempts to make me blind,
To tear my faith apart.
Questions of uncertainty,
Makes my many sorrows rise.
Until I feel the darkness,
Of embracing things which I despise.
My flailing arms seeks stable balance,
As I stand at this abyss.
As my memory of His ways He shown,
So often forgotten or entirely missed.
Will I still be living here,
To see Isaiah 17?
And still hold true to the blessed hope,
As things fade to brown from green?
The sun is setting, and my questions increase,
And the day is getting late.
Will I bear witness to the fires,
Of Ezekiel 38?
Like a prisoner, behind the gate,
Longing to be free.
I feel this very expectation,
Watching the beast rise from the sea.
I listen for the rattling key,
Which turns the lock of this mortal cage.
Awaiting a golden deliverance,
Foretold by a Thessalonian sage.
So will I be counted worthy Lord,
To escape the coming night?
Or shall I be left behind,
To endure this epic fight?
He said, "Do not fear, my dear young child,
Your battle is already won.
It’s been paid in full, by My blood,
Remember the prodigal son.
For verily I say, he too fled,
And left his father standing distraught.
Seeking the wasted things of this world,
He missed the things which couldn’t be bought.
Returning to his father in desperation,
He felt the guiding Hand above.
Then came forth, a great jubilee,
Filled with the riches of My hope and love."
Written by:
Richard (Jim) Minch
3/22/06