Logical Antithesis

This is the first poem I have written in years. I prefer free verse, and so I used it. Perhaps it may mean as much to you as it does to me. Or perhaps you are one whom I write about, ye who in God do doubt…

I dedicate this poem to my brothers and sisters in Christ, those who truly seek the truth for its own sake and grasp it with both hands. God’s Word is the only path to salvation, and is unique in history—my poem is but a pinprick ripple within an ocean of proofs.

When I look at what God hath wrought,

I think of all I do for naught,
Without so much as humble thought,
Then I gaze in wonder.

When I look at what God hath done,

Sending me His only Son,
Tearing me from worldly fun,
Then I pray with hope.

When I look at how I have sinned,

Seen my soul ensnared with sin,
Doubted, crushed, and bruised within,
When will His smile shine in?

When I look at other's despair,

I think of my Lord's loving care,
And recall their worldly dare,
Then I wonder, will they care?

When hear I the rebel cry:

"Leave us alone, let us die!"
Then hear I how my Lord doth cry:
"I cannot help them, I have tried."

Then I see their pain and tears,

Their disbelief and fears,
They cannot see Him, though He nears,
Wanting naught more but to wipe their tears.

Then I know man's aweful fate,

To love, despair, and hate,
And war against that aweful fate:
That we are His, after all.

Jesus was God's only begotten Son,

But He adopts us, every one,
To join us with His blessed Son,
To make all right for every one.

When I hear them howl and jeer,

I fear them not, my Lord is near!
They cannot make me bow in fear!
For I know that which they lack:

To howl and jeer shows their lack,

But one word and they can't attack:
To but obey and they shall not lack!
Honest humility isn't so hard as that.

When I open His blessed Word,

I see the ancestors gone before,
To rest upon that peaceful shore,
When I shall ne'er lack, any more.

E'en doth the stones rot,

Tread on by some idle tot,
Yet ne'er doth His Word rot,
And yet ignored by that infernal tot.

When will man learn and grow?

His blessed grace at last to know?
Man's stiff-necked will bowed below,
At last to know that it is mankind below.

When I see what God hath wrought,

And gaze in awe of the battles fought,
And lessons that He's taught;

To see Him write with sable pen,
To close His book ne'er again,

I feel the words in blood,
Written in my emotional flood,

To hear the bell toll loud and clear:
This is my Son, Beloved and Dear!

Is this my end, is it near?
I shall not wonder in old fear,
For I know my God walks near.