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Like Little Children
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson



 



Like Little children



 



How many children knock the door?



Only to runaway



Others play games upon the floor



Whilst few seek God and pray



 



We all to God are children still



We love to play the fool



We search the world for things to thrill



And break God’s every rule



 



God sees our heart our every flaw



The thirst we have for fun



He sees when Jesus knocks our door



How fast from Him we run



 



Yet we as children shouldn’t hide



When Jesus rings our bell



Instead our doors should open wide



To flee from death and hell



 



When then we turn from foolish crimes



Take hold The Saviours hand



There’ll be such sad, no wondrous times



The world can’t understand



 



No teeth will rot from Heaven’s sweet



No childlike soul will die



Blessed is the child at Jesus’ feet



Blessed will they rise on high



 



Though still at times He’ll take the rod



To sheep when running wild



He sees who’s face is turned from God



And wants them reconciled



 



It matters not if girl or boy



Accept; all God will give



His chastening, take with pure joy



Trust in The Lord and live.....  



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Submitted: Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Last Updated: Tuesday, January 13, 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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