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Tomorrow's Dawn
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


 

Tomorrow's Dawn

 

Who shall ascend Your holy hill?

May I my God may I?

Please let it be Your perfect will

That I may rise on high

 

The truth of life is now my own

At last these eyes can see

No longer is my heart of stone

Since Jesus set me free

 

Through perfect love I’ve been reborn

Through sacrifice divine

By grace I’ll see tomorrow’s dawn

And drink as victor, wine

 

I’ll see the feet each nail pierced hand

I’ll sing ten million years

But will I ever understand

How much my Saviour cares?

 

I see my God Your cross of wood

Your face grimaced in pain

The crown of thorns Your pouring blood

Your death was not in vain

 

You thought of me, You knew my name

You called me from afar

You saw my heart, my filthy shame

My God how great You are

 

What can man do what can he say?

How can one win this fight?

You did it all that God planned day

When Satan saw The Light

 

When all in Heaven shouted praise

Life’s gates were opened wide

That I may walk eternal days

Beyond the great divide.....


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Submitted: Friday, May 29, 2015

Last Updated: Friday, May 29, 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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