End Times

Look there! O, Lord, Thy work I see,
My Master, Great Creator.
Sunlight skipping ‘cross the creek,
Soft mosses still the forest,
Waves’ patterns on the sandy shore,
Spring’s promise in each flower. My heart’s enthralled yet saddened, too,
For shrinking is Thy canvas.
Man’s blight is wide upon the land,
The evidence, in nature.
A songbird flits away in fear,
The doe, few woods to wander.
Beneath the sea, the corals die,
Yet heed we these, Thy warnings?
Some say the End Times are at hand,
The Bible’s signs upon us
As comet streaks across the sky
Hear we Thy voice, Who calls us? A yearning fills our spirits, Lord,
To know You, our Creator,
To feel Thy love, to have You near,
And bask in Thy forgiveness.
If meek, and mindful of Thy will,
The Earth to us is promised.
Let us protect Thy artwork, Lord,
For when You walk among us.

by Carol Bogart

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