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I had heard a voice from Heaven,
Saying from now on those who die;
Believe that blessings are given,
Have no need to mournfully cry.
Allow them to rest from labor,
For the hard work will go with them;
Enabled to help their neighbor,
And never trying to condemn.
Looking up I saw a white cloud,
And ridden by the Son of man;
Everyone within the crowd,
Had become afraid as they ran.
He had a gold crown on His head,
And a sharp sickle in His hand;
He proclaimed that they were all dead,
Raising the sickle as to command.
An angel came from the temple,
As he cried out in a loud voice;
Swing the sickle reap the people,
That desire not to rejoice.
The time has come to harvest those,
Who are now overripe with sin;
For the earthly lifestyle chose,
With no spiritual discipline.
Up above, the sickle was swung,
Harvesting the earth was complete;
Since it was done an angel sung,
Indicate the darkness defeat.
Another angel had come out,
Of the temple up in Heaven;
With a sickle swinging about,
Ensured finished what had begun.
They gathered the grapes from the vine,
Since all the grapes were very ripe;
As the wrath of God made it wine,
As the blood flowed during the hype.
The grapes trampled by the city,
As blood flowed out of the winepress;
No mournful cry showing pity,
To the deceased that God did bless.
Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Harvesting the Earth
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