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Today's Bell Ringing Heralds.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Blessed were the times when church bells rang

When God’s word preachers preached

When congregations humbly sang

And pleasing Heaven reached

 

Blessed is Christ church that rings its bell

Through each and every land

Calling sinners to flee from hell

Into The Father’s hand

 

Blessed are the bells of God most high

Ringers steadfast and real

Heaven’s gospel people to bring

Hearing their zealous peal

 

While outside sinners are dying

Hell’s jaws are gaping wide

The bells of Christ Jesus Crying

Beckon His bride inside

 

God’s chiming bells are heralds true

Tongues of the King of kings

He calls to me, He calls to you

Each time a church bell rings

 

While devils beat their master's drum

Luring with divers charms

Be wise my friend repent and come

Into God’s welcome arms

 

Listen as Jesus calls my friend

Ringing as times before

In faith allow your knees to bend

And open your heart’s locked door

 

The Holy Ghost is waiting there

Ringing to one and all

For sinner and saints everywhere

To answer salvation’s call…..


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Submitted: Saturday, September 22, 2018

Last Updated: Saturday, September 22, 2018

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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