This is the first poem (besides “roses are red” poems) that I wrote.  I was 16.  The meter is really bad.  I am very particular about meter.  I usually don’t finish reading a poem that doesn’t follow meter so I apologize to those of you who are like me.  If you can’t finish it…I understand!  (Wow, I hadn’t read this for a while – there may also be some doctrinal issues too…) 

(and the verse in Mark 16 is paraphrased)

The sunlight was fading;

The moon hovered over.

His mind starts creating;

His heart starts debating

The answer of wonder,

The question’s prevention,

The puzzle uncover;

Why did no one discover

His lost soul to recover?

 

He cries into a fury;

His soul fills with anger;

He had many a friend;

Met many a stranger,

But no one had told him

Of the plight of his danger.

 

They all cowered back;

They gave him some smiles;

They didn’t dare interact

With his worldly styles.

 

No one could tell from the outside of him

That he longed inside to know forgiveness of sin;

But not one single Christian to talk to him dared;

They all said they cared,

But they were all really scared.

They all went to church;

They all said a prayer,

But for the soul of this man,

It is left in despair.

 

No one had courge;

No one obeyed

The call of the Master

To help and to aid.

No matter how big

Or how small they may be,

The Savior said tell them,

“My blood is the key.”

 

But now the man cries as his eyes fill with terror,

“I wish someone had told me

The end of my error.”

But wait, it’s not the end

Of this horror-filled man.

 

“I will be here forever

In this unbearable pain!”

Then he bitterly cries as his lips feel the flame.

“Not even once was I warned of this terrible place;

I had no chance the fatal decision to make,

And now the burning, the screaming, the pain that I bear,

No!  that can’t be the voice of my wife that I hear.

My kids – No!  I can’t bear to believe it;

Their terror-filled screams, all alone, no one there,

Except other screams filling the air.”

 

“No hope of ever getting out of this place

Is the worst possible thing there is ever to face.

No hope – none at all – because no dear Christian came

To knock on my door or hand me a tract;

They were all too comfortable, wanting nothing but fame;

They wanted to sit back and play their cursed religious game,

And now my kids in terror do blame

The Christian people who don’t even feel shame.”

 

“They wasted Christ’s blood that He shed on the cross

By not telling the plan to the sin-sick and lost;

They were selfish and didn’t care the price Christ’s blood cost.

They spat in God’s face at the death of His Son,

For Christ died individually for everyone.

 

I don’t think I can bear it, the memory of never

Being told of the gift by a Christian pretender.

The burning, the screams, the flame on the skin;

I can’t bear it forever – Oh! the thought of my kin.”

 

“But now I awake!  I jump out of bed;

I look for my wife, she’s here, she’s not dead!

My kids are all here, my joy overfloweth.

Now all that I hope is that a Christian who’s faithful,

Will tell me the way of the wonderful Savior.”

 

“But what do I do?  How do I know

The direction that I should ought to go?

I guess I’ll just attend the church every week;

The one on the corner is closest, I guess it’s the way,

I’ll just read my Bible, be honest, tithe and obey.”

 

Now, Christian, as you sit there today,

Will someone not tell him of the straight narrow way?

It could be your sister, your father, your brother,

A dear friend, a relative, a sweet old grandmother;

But all over this city, in neighborhood and street,

People are looking for something to make their lives complete.

They’re dying all over spending forever in hell,

Is the Christian afraid of God’s truth to tell?

 

The time we live now is but a grain on the beach;

Are we so concerned that to others we cannot reach?

It’s not house or hobby, work or lands,

It’s the stranger’s eternity that lies in our hands.

Were you not told of that gift one day?

Please, help a poor wanderer out of the flame.

 

Now the puzzle we’ve uncovered,

We have finally discovered

The prevent of our question,

The answer of wonder;

Don’t be selfish; be a witness

For the blood of Jesus Christ.

THIS is our purpose.