At times, it does not feel sustainable,
but that’s the liar’s whisper in our ear.
for none of this would be obtainable
but for Your constant, loving presence here.
And so be off, deceiver, run along.
Perhaps you’ll find a time more opportune,
but know her Guardian is fierce and strong;
your wiles cannot His character impugn.
So cherishing the time which does remain,
we shall arise each morn to meet the day,
place trust in plans You sovereignly ordain
and bolstered by Your Spirit, joyful say:
“Come, Maranatha, Come”, with bated breath,
her bridegroom and her victor over death.
Mama Martha at Maranatha
had been a mama
would go to Maranatha
they called her Martha
Was Martha middle name
of Rosalyn Carter?
when we ate manna
in shape of bannana
was in Montana
Peace, an illusion.
A mass delusion,
A cone of confusion,
Has made an intrusion.
It is my conclusion
Excessive inclusion
With Satan’s collusion
Has led to occlusion.
We need a transfusion
Or perhaps perfusion
And quiet seclusion,
Not nuclear fusion.
Maranatha.
the Lord Jesus is coming again
The Maker imparts the mystery of Messiah.
Many imagine him as a militant,
mighty and masterful, yet He’s meek and mild
The Messiah becomes Minister.
He mixes with the materialistic mob and remains moral.
merciful, mystifying, simple
The Minister becomes Mediator.
He multiplies meals, calms madness and mends miseries.
model of submission and amnesty
The Mediator becomes Master.
He motivates men to mourn their meager mindsets and motives.
Messenger, Example, Redeemer
The Master will become the Millennial Monarch.
His dominion unmatched in merit and majesty.
infinite, immortal, supreme
The Monarch is manifested more and more, moment by moment.
Mortal men must move to maturity in kingdom matters and
like the smart maids maintain lamps primed for his imminence
Being only man,
Waiting till I die is hard
More than it is long
I walk razor sharp
On the edge of true belief
Bruised with impatience
In a double world
Of sinister partitions
And a squalid mask
Judas has come back
Again in each lukewarm saint
His coming pushed back
I keep but one faith
One longing decrees my will
For the jasper gate
But look, the false throng
Their ancient pretense cuddling
In tensed rituals
So I sag with it
My bleeding feet on the edge
Of the flaming sword
Welcome, just me in
Let me see the primal tree
Shield me from their sin
Come quickly Lord, come quickly now!
I want to be with you sooner, but how?
My heart is homesick to its very depth.
To the point of breathing my very last breath!
My mind is depleted of any other things.
Only the desire to be with you, that solely remains.
My being drifts on passing this safe harbor of life.
Deciding rather to give up or continue with this "strife."
Drowning in the sea of sarrow..
Scared and unsure of what will be of tomorrow.
Day to day struggles are weighing me down.
Lord, throw me a life raft before I drown.
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