Wednesday, June 21, 2017

The I of the Storm

A portent blows across the sky
The brewing tempest nears, says I.
But if You seek to spoil the proud,
The drunkards and the disavowed,
On this house too the waves must heave
Because my kin I will not leave
To languish by the whirlwind's curse,
And sleep alone within the hearse.

A promise sought, a promise giv'n
To those who air their cries to heav'n,
But in the verses soon restored
There lies a promise e'er ignored:
"The shifting sand on which they stood
Shall work together for their good,
And for my glory, for my name.
They patiently have borne the shame.

"I have recorded and decreed:
My friends who suffer shall succeed!"
So come what blusters from the East
My Master's mercy has not ceased!
With them I stand, with them I fall
Forever to my Lord I call:
"I wield the cov'nant shown to me!
Release my fathers! Set them free!"








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