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The Thief Had Time
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

The Thief Had Time

How quick in life we break the rules

When love for God grows cold

We play with time we act like fools

Though time’s more rare than gold


With Christ, two thieves hung on a tree

Humbly one turned to say

“Lord on Your throne remember me

Who dies with You today”


“For you this day is not the end

Your faith has set you free

In Paradise with me my friend

My glory you will see”


Today that thief is with his Lord

Given a brand new name

He knew that he could ill afford

To perish still in shame


Yet some believe there’s always time

Departure’s far away

They fail to see this is their crime!

And death could call today


Many have much they still desire

Absorbed in worldly fares

Unafraid of endless fire

They gorge demonic wares


The thief should open wide their eyes

His words should make them turn

But gluttons to the devil’s lies

In hell will scream and burn


If Christ today should call to come

You’ve no more time to wait

Or you may find you’ve been so dumb

And left it far too late…..

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Submitted: Friday, October 26, 2012

Last Updated: Friday, October 26, 2012

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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