Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag

Scorched Earth   Leave a comment

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Scorched Earth
By Tim Shey

Genesis 19: 28:   “And he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.”

Harlot of the Tetons
The stench of your sin
Rose up to highest Heaven
You were fashionably dressed
Like ancient Sodom
Till the day the Lord
Scorched your streets with fire.

Jackson, Wyoming
Jacksonites, Yours is a Bloody City
A Parable About Lukewarm, American Christianity
Jeremiah 19: 1-13
Jackson, Wyoming Fire, 2012
Guns Don’t Kill People; Liberals Kill People
Get Out of Jackson, Wyoming!

The Prophet’s Call   7 comments

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Prophet Amos

This is from the blog Susanne Schuberth’s Poetry:

The Prophet’s Call
By Susanne Schuberth

Those who are aliens here on earth
Endure tormenting pangs of birth
They make the call to share their pains
Alas, the whore is bound in chains
She’s looking for applause of crowds
The prophets though are His ‘all-outs’

They call the stout to leave the wall
So they can hear the desert’s call
That calls for you and me, my friend
To leave that church which is a blend
Of truth and lies we might not see
And if we stay, we won’t get free

God calls us to the narrow path
So that we may escape His wrath
That is to come so very soon
When sun is darkened, and the moon
Where you can hear the weak one say
“He strengthened me, I’m on His way”

Don’t we reject the voice we hear
Through prophets’ words and by our ear
They urge us that we make our choice
And listen to His longing voice
The Lord’s still speaking to our heart
Because He wills that we take part

In joining them wholeheartedly
Who prayed to Him for eyes to see
The wickedness down to the core
Of Satan’s wife, his bride, his whore
See, all the years she took from Him
The fat, the wool, the sheep at whim

Still there is time for us to come
Unto the Lord before it’s done
The prophets who stand in the breach
Were called for us to pray and preach
Don’t we despise their words that hurt
Since Christ now wants to sift from dirt

A Prophet’s Eyes
The Prophetic Voice
Josephus on John the Baptist

Posted June 21, 2015 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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The Wages of Sin is Death   4 comments

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This poem is from the blog Touching the King:

The Wages of Sin is Death
By Jacqui

There is a church
Made by man
Bought with money
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Merchandise is its name
Bought with status
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Idolatry is its name
Its manna but worms
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Witchcraft is its name
Rebellion is its mark
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Its crime is self
Its home is this world
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Where the flock are fat
Their lips are smooth
Their ears pierced with gold
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Where the men speak lies
They are heard as truth
Their cross for all to see
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Where the path is wide
Where comfort is the blanket
But the wages of sin
Is death

There is a church
Made by man
Where Satan holds his kingdom
Pride is seated
But the wages of sin
Is death

I tell thee the truth
There is a Church
Whose God is Jesus
The lively stones
Living with the Cornerstone
Where humility adorns
Where suffering is glorified
The wages of their sin
Bought and paid for
By the blood of suffering
By a Son of Man
Despised
Rejected
Nailed
Hammered to a cross

Yes there is a Church
Called True and Faithful
The Bridegroom cometh
He has paid the price
The Gate is narrow
The Path is straight
Where money is not the god
Idolatry silenced
Rebellion
Surrendered to Truth

I tell thee the Truth, Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life and no man can cometh to the Father except by Him.

Shiloh

Yom Kippur   7 comments

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Yom Kippur
To the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world
By Tim Shey

Death and Resurrection
Alpha and Omega
You shall know the truth

Offering for our sin
Friend of thieves and outcasts

Adam’s curse is broken
The truth shall set you free
One death for so many
Not a single bone was broken
Enemy is vanquished
Manifold temptations
Early you shall seek Me
No more tears and weeping
Today is now eternal

Leviticus 17:  11:  “For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul.”

Isaiah 53: 5:  “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

Revelation 1: 5:  “And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood.”

Altar
Shiloh
Bereshith
A Letter from Israel
Yom Kippur–Day of Atonement

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Inward Peace   Leave a comment

Inward Peace

By Thomas Ellwood

My Peace I give unto you.  John 14:27

Who can conceive, much less express,
The inward peace which they possess,
Who, by the indwelling of the light,
Have put satanic powers to flight;
In whom, renewed and born again,
The Lord of life does live and reign:
Renewed, restored, purged, purified,
And natural rovings laid aside;

Cleansed by the blood, kept by the grace,
That sin in them scarce finds a place;
The temple swept, prepared, then blessed
With presence of an heavenly guest,
A guest, not for a night or twain,
But one that always will remain;
Yes, such a guest as does impart,
That joy which overcomes the heart,
A joy so great, no tongue of man,
Express the fullness of it can;
And this unutterable bliss,
Flows from the love of God to His.
O! love immense, and without bound,
To all that in the Truth are found,
words are too short to set it forth
In its extent, and real worth.
The wife, that in the bosom lies,
Is precious in the husband’s eyes;
The sucking babe is very near,
The only Son, exceeding dear;
Tender the apple of the eye,
Friends and relations very nigh;
But yet this love does far transcend
That to wife, child, eye, parent, friend.

These metaphors are all too low,
The nature of this love to show;
No tongue is able to declare,
How dear to God His children are;
Only the sense of it is felt,
Which breaks the heart and makes it melt.

The Poetry of Thomas Ellwood

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15 February 2014

Yesterday I was reading The Great Fire of London in that Apocalyptic Year, 1666 by Neil Hanson.  I think it may have been in the second chapter, but it said that Thomas Ellwood prophesied or had dreams or visions in 1662 that showed him that London would suffer a plague and a fire in the near future.  The plague hit London in 1665 and the Great Fire hit London in 1666.

The Great Fire of London

Posted February 9, 2014 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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POETRY: God’s Grandeur and Pied Beauty, by Gerard Manley Hopkins   Leave a comment

gods-grandeur

This is from the blog The Value of Sparrows:

God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed.  Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things —
For skies of couple-color as a brindled cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscapes plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins
The Value of Sparrows
The Wreck of the Deutschland

On His Blindness   Leave a comment

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John Milton

On His Blindness
By John Milton

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

John Milton:  Writer and Revolutionary
What can I give God?
Seeing God’s Story
Watch and wait
The Three Hermits
Serving by Waiting

Posted February 28, 2013 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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