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Treasures of Darkness
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Treasures of Darkness


Death’s ice cold hand has sought to claim

The soul of fallen man

Since disobedience was to blame

Since failing Heaven’s plan


Lord cleanse my heart my precious soul

Consume Your servant’s shame

Touch my spirit with Heaven’s coal

Ignite in me life’s Flame


Come deeper Lord, draw closer still

Quicken my dormant mind

Not as I will but let Your will

Be deep within to find


Take foolish doubt seize sinful lust

Cleanse pure my thoughts with fire

Before this tent turns into dust

Consume all self desire


Consume my pride my slothful ways

So life be not in vain

Allow me walk throughout my days

Severed from Satan’s chain


Take all the devil’s had to give

The jewels of darkest hell

Bring freedom Lord allow me live

The facts of life to tell


With faith with hope with joy with peace

With love as constant guide

Allow Your goodness never cease

Always to burn inside


Hold fast in Yours my feeble hand

Allow Your Spirit flow

Allow through Christ to understand

Your perfect will to know.....

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Submitted: Sunday, September 20, 2015

Last Updated: Sunday, September 20, 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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