Troubles of Job
TROUBLES OF JOB
If Job stopped by and viewed my pain
He’d raise both hands and claim his cares were few
A hungry hawk strips all my veins
and claws my heart as I am grieving you
If God would put me in his place
For just a simple hour
Could I judge when face to face
Which soul will yield as grief devours
I would flip a pagan coin
Into a pagan sky
Or simply shrug a Titan shoulder
Batting not an eye.
This world declared the death of right
And glibly kills its own
Shed its conscience and remorse---
My God would spurn this throne.
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