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Whose Hands Await You
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Whose Hands Await You


One’s health is good one’s house is fine

Life’s portion’s more than fair

Eating choice meat washed down with wine

Heaven has had to share


We think we’re free, but nothing’s real

For souls with hearts of stone

Is it perhaps the way we feel?

Because of things we own


We think we’re rich though lost and poor

We disobey God’s word

Unless in Christ our heart’s made pure

Our reasoning’s absurd


We’ll still remain the devil’s tools

Living, dying in sin

To self to God we play as fools

With no way out to win


Unless we see The Truth first hand

Lose our selfish pride

Begin the past to understand

To bid God’s Son inside


For lest the heart has truly learned

One’s silver counts for nought

Salvation’s crown can not be earned

Nor endless life be bought


Cast down the idols made of gold

Bow Jesus Christ your knee

Look deep inside, by grace behold

What Truth would have you see


Love true The Lord, your neighbours too

Give Christ your shame drenched heart

Join the ranks of the chosen few

From death’s cold hands depart……

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Submitted: Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Last Updated: Tuesday, November 3, 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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