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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson




Jerusalem, jewel on a Tor 
Citadel of peace 
Mother of children loathing war 
When will your nightmare cease 

Bless Abraham God’s chosen seed 
Bless Jacob, Isaac too 
Pray Heaven will meet their children’s need 
Each day God grants anew 

Bless the gem of The Promised Land 
Her streams her mounds her dales 
Until her Saviour comes to stand 
And still her stormy gales 

Bless Israel’s scarred troubled zone 
Each anxious ailing soul 
Pray God would hear each heartfelt groan 
To heal and make her whole 

Bless the city of Jesse’s son 
Raise hands with eyes above 
Till all her trials on earth are won 
Bestow amazing love 

Bless Jacob’s mounds of Galilee 
Each vale round Jordan’s flow 
The sun baked soil around the sea 
Life’s diverse  fruits to grow 

Bless the ancients, God’s chosen new 
Pray wisdom brings release 
Uniting gentile saints and Jew 
Forever twined in peace 

Bless the town where tears were cried 
City of woeful pain 
The hill where once her Saviour died 
To rise her King to reign…...

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Submitted: Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Last Updated: Wednesday, December 30, 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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