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Four from Six
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Four from Six


For fellowship they’d planned to meet

A meal they’d come to share

But just before they came to eat

One spoke to God in prayer


Immediately the six could tell

That two weren’t blessed with grace

Just four were saved from death and hell

Just four would see God’s face


Of God and life two failed to know

Just four were born anew

How could they tell the others though?

That Jesus loves them too!


How could the two lost souls believe?

How could they come to live?

Could they the gift of life receive

From what the four could give?


Thinking; they sat at ease a while

Eating of this and that

A little nod a little smile

The fruit of idle chat


How were the two to understand?

What had the four to say?

Would Heaven somehow lend a hand?

Would Jesus show The Way?


The four could see the other’s need

They’d heard their tales of strife

In love humbly they planted Seed

They hoped would lead to life


The hours passed the day was done

How would the future be?

Had the battle of life been won?

One day by grace we’ll see.....

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Submitted: Friday, April 17, 2015

Last Updated: Friday, April 17, 2015

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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