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


 

Nomads

 

The time grows short whilst passing through

God’s Son is on the throne

His Way of life we must pursue

Whilst like a rolling stone

 

We’re passing through, won’t stop for long

So much must yet be done

Our spirit sings a different song

Since knowing Christ God’s Son

 

No baggage have we need or take

No burden more to bear

The world from sleep we’ll soon awake

When news of Christ we share

 

So oft in Christ we’ve moved our home

To far off shores we go

As nomads through this world we roam

Salvation’s Seed to sow

 

Though here or there, though far or near

We share God’s Word with love

The world should know Christ died down here

That she may rise above

 

She needs to know The Truth today

To walk within The Light

Learn to walk Salvation’s Way

In robes pure and white

 

We as the bride knowing God’s will

Should do the work at hand

Should pave The Way to Zion Hill

Obeying God’s command

 

Until the work on earth is done

To labour not in vane

Serving until the last is won

As nomads we’ll remain.....


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Submitted: Sunday, December 21, 2014

Last Updated: Sunday, December 21, 2014

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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