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Salt Of The Earth.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

Too many, in the world yet fail

Believing Satan’s lie

They sit deprived within his jail

Afraid to even die


Life’s living Truth one needs to eat

From Heaven with reason

Churches should help raise finest wheat

With salt; to duly season


Season to change the barren earth

Each soul in darkness found

Raising by grace through second birth

To walk on holy ground


It’s not for saints to be at rest

While others die out there

But each is called to give their best

Through all God gives to share


We know! The Lord has set us free

God’s Salt’s in me and you!

We need but shake ourselves to see

What work there’s still to do?


But stagnant salt will lose its taste

For precious work, no good

God throws it out; like worthless waste

To trample down like mud


To stay at home, we’ve no excuse

The foe’s here to fight

What good is salt when not in use?

But sit there looking white!


To Christ, we live, and so in haste

The “Gospel” should be heard

As humble salt brings out the taste

So saints! Should spread the word……

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Submitted: Saturday, November 11, 2017

Last Updated: Saturday, November 11, 2017

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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