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Trusting Man a Curse


Cursed if you are trusting men,
Whose body is his might;
Since the Lord did condemn,
His heart a profaned sight.

Like heath in the desert,
Or even tumbleweed;
With just having dry dirt,
Its growth cannot succeed.

 He lives in dry places,
Where no one else can live;
And has many faces,
Being a fugitive.

Bless who trusts in the Lord,
That is his confidence;
A refuge not ignored,
And a shield for defense.

He is just like a tree,
That is next to a stream;
Reaping fruit you can see,
As abundantly supreme.

Summer heat or a drought,
Its leaves will remain green;
Because it will not doubt,
Of water fresh clean.

For the tree remains pure,
Fed from stream of the Word;
Not tempted by a lure,
And insight is not blurred.


Copyright © 2011 Richard Newton Sherrer







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