When Heaven’s Way

We want so much to serve The Lord
We’d like to be the head
We’d love to wield a mighty sword
But not where truth has led

We fail to seek our Father’s will
We miss the precious flow
Instead we seek our selfish fill
Where angels wouldn’t go

We seek in church the highest chair
Speak of Heaven above
But fail the truth of God to share
And fail to show His love

We want with God to keep in touch
We want of what we yearn
We like we wish we want so much
For nothing in return

But surely as our Saviour lives
Who hears His children pray
Who loves, likes and willingly gives
When truly Heaven’s way

But selfishness is not the means
Or wantonness the route
Nor wilfulness the in-betweens
That leads to wholesome fruit

We need to curb gratuitous greed
Learn truth and understand
Not all we want but all we need
Is in our Saviour’s hand

We need to seek our Fathers face
Receive of Heaven’s love
To teach and help the human race
To live through Christ above

by Michael P. Johnson

Comments (3)

Dear Robert You lived and celebrated sixty-five years With your rhyming witty poems… I enjoyed most, when I have time, I will read more To rhyme with you your delicate prose- Sweat can't leave soreness to cry and wail. You’re a poet like a saint Expected to live twenty more years And you did with happiness Wearing the kilts. Wish me the same To wear my ancestries Dancing Dress. Sometimes I wear… People think I’m Austrian or Swiss; May be my ancestors arrived from that place To Anatolia to be massacred Then driven by betrayers to live in deserts bare To birth me there! Now through the net poet-hunters I enjoy Reading your site Can you wish me to reach my Dreams? To join you one-day your nested paradise! Yours Sincerely Sylva-MD-poetry Written Instantly
Dear Robert You lived and celebrated sixty-five years With your rhyming witty poems… I enjoyed most, when I have time, I will read more To rhyme with you your delicate prose- Sweat can't leave soreness to cry and wail. You’re poet like a saint Expected to live twenty more years And you did with happiness Wearing the kilts. Wish me the same To wear my ancestries Dancing Dress Sometimes I wear… People think I’m Austrian or Swiss; May be my ancestors lived there and left Arrived Anatolia to be massacred Then driven by betrayers to live in deserts bare To birth me there! Now through the net I enjoy Reading your Site Can you wish me to reach my Dreams? To join you one day your paradise! Yours Sincerely Sylva-MD-poetry Written Instantly
Another wonderful poem about life by Robert Service. Set ia an eight line ABABABAB rhyming sequence this poems celebrates the joy of senority age upon reaching 65. Service would experience an additional 19 years before permantly retiring from his art.