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You pierce the leader of His gang,
While using His own arrows;
His soldiers come as their swords clang,
As if a violent storm grows.
They are all arrogant like those,
Who secretly eat up the poor;
Just as the river of blood flows,
Feeling confident and secure.
You march your horse into the sea,
Through the mighty raging waters;
And followed by your family,
With drowning your sons and daughters.
I have heard trembling within me,
At the report my lips quivered;
As my eyes were opened to see,
I felt a chill as I shivered.
This had caused a rotten feeling,
Making me tremble where I stood;
The day of trouble in dealing,
My mistakes from my childhood.
Although the fig tree does not bloom,
And the vines are having no grapes;
A mother gives birth through the womb,
Yielding a new born that escapes.
Even if the olive tree fails,
And the fields are yielding no food;
Worshipping the Lord still prevails,
As you remain in a good mood.
Although the sheep pen is bare,
And the stalls are without cattle;
The Lord remains both just and fair,
As you cope during the battle.
You must be happy with the Lord,
As you truly find joy in God;
Never letting Him be ignored,
Continue to honor and laud.
The almighty Lord is your strength,
His feet are like those of a deer;
To persevere at any length,
While still remaining sincere.
Copyright © 2016 Richard Newton Sherrer
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The Fig Tree
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