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The Lord has forsaken me,
And my Lord has forgotten;
I am blinded as to see,
My life is spoiled rotten.
Can a woman forget nursing,
And having no compassion;
A child who is cursing,
Allowing of their fashion.
For the son comes from her womb.
Even that we can forget;
He dies and placed in a tomb,
She remembers to regret.
He engraved you in His hands,
Your walls remain before Him;
As I hear to His commands,
To stop making me feel grim.
His builders are making haste,
As His children start to whine;
His destroyers who laid waste,
Going forth from the Divine.
Lift up your eyes as to see,
They are coming together;
Protesting of His decree,
Like Antifa they gather.
Clothe them like an ornament,
You shall bind them like a bride;
His wrath He will implement,
Because of what they have lied.
Such wasted devastation,
In such of a desolate place;
A land left in destruction,
Making it such a disgrace.
Surely your mind is narrow,
Swallowed up by those from far;
Less distance than an arrow,
While aiming at a star.
Who has borne me from the start,
When I was released from the womb;
Accepting God in your heart,
From salvation from the tomb.
Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Servant Salvation
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