Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.


On Thee I Call

Cleanse me with that healing blood that flows from Calvary’s cross,
Cover me with saving grace that hides fallen earthly dross.
Create a Holy haven where the Spirit can reside,
Deep within this heart of mine, thus transforming from inside.

Shine heavenly rays of light on this mind that's sick with sin,
Brightening every corner till no darkness lurks within.
Recharge my ailing body with Your power from on high,
So that every day I rise I will “Hallelujah!” cry.

Wrest me from the devil’s grip, remove prison walls he’s built,
And using Heaven’s blow-torch, every sinful shackle melt.
Let the cost of Calvary remain etched upon my mind,
And help me every morning Your presence prayerfully find.

Send me messages of love wrapped in providential care,
Help me wait attentively for Your whispers in my ear.
Please help me see more clearly all the blessings that You pour,
And enshrine within my heart Your unchanging Holy Law.

Slay all selfishness and pride so that humble I will be,
And fill me with compassion for both friend and enemy.
Crush prejudice and bias, have me act impartially,
And throughout my life on earth help me faithful always be.

Gush fountains full of wisdom that will shower truth on me,
Install in me desires that are pure and Heavenly.
Create a burning passion for the things You’d have me do,
And clothe me with Your love, Lord, so that others will see You. 

Colour with Heaven’s pastels every day you give to me,
Till every day’s a picture that reflects the Heavenly.
Let the portrait You’ve begun that’s an image of the Son,
Remain upon Your easel till that work of art is done.

By Lance Landall

Only A Fool 

Oh, what an honour and privilege it is, Lord, to stand in defence of You,
To back the Scriptures up to the hilt, and the interests of Heaven pursue.
And yes, be that for a lifetime, You giving us eternity in return,
And why it’s nothing but folly that for the temporal things of Earth we yearn.

Oh, all that time, money and effort that’s spent on chasing the opposite sex,
Or on other desires and ambitions that one sees through the same earthly specs.
And meantime, this Earth rushing to its end, millions dying without hope — and You,
Lord, looking at a bride who’s dragging her feet, she restless, flirty and askew.

Oh, the craziness of it, Lord, when nothing should shake our faith and trust in You,
We active and vigilant on Your behalf, self lost in a heavenly hue.
In other words, we putting our own interests last, even forgoing things,
For only a fool — when I comes to this wretched world we’re in — dallies or clings.

By Lance Landall