POEM: HE IS AT THE DOOR | Pr. Benny P. U, Mumbai

Inspired by many infused by few;
In these lines I lay my view;
should I write my thoughts?
As written many lay unred,
And “of making many books there is no end”
Says the wise son of David.
Am I any greater or have any better ?
The question continue to linger,
Without any solid answer.
Yet something start burning me like,
The bone burning fire in jeremiah’s life;
Can I hold words while Lion of Juda roaring,
Commanding to wake up from snoring.
I own no words of Wordsworth in iambic,
Nore Milton’s meter and muse of epic,
Yet I roar, “thus says the lord”…
Time is no more to sleep among the dead,
O! Ye sleeper, the angelic trumpet to wake the dead
Is waiting for an eye gleam of the LORD.
The fig is blossoming, the sun darkening,
The world is warring, the sea roaring,
The jews soaring for the messiah’s marching,
How then you his Bride ignoring?
The deluge day gone but the greatest roar,
Is at the door for the heavens to disappear,
Be warned of element consuming fire,
Where everything earthly will be laid bare.
Don’t fall at the folly of Jews of old:
The warning lesson Paul gave as gold,
The lost are lost for ever, if we don’t hear,
The trumpet we ought to hear.
Blown it is once and never wait for the late,
Gone at once ‘the elect’ with whom who is never late,
Gone are the rest for ever to be lost,
My friend be not there in the list.

Pastor Benny P U, Mumbai



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