What Makes Me Greet the Day

As my alarm rings I lay snug in my bed

Bound in my blankets I wish I was dead.

The world outside my house is strangled in fear.

I'm quite warm and rested; I'd rather stay here.

As I toss and I turn I remember Mom's rule:

"We'll leave without you. You'll be late for school."

I focus my eyes and I make a small fuss,

"I look like I've just been mowed down by a bus."

I put on my shirt and I get out my shoes

I pull up my pants as I think on the news

That is broadcasted to us, by night and by day

How that evil, uninhibited, is getting its way.

Marxism, drug dealers, gangs on the loose,

Murders where precious life ends in a noose.

Our leaders, who us have sworn to defend,

Stand fearful and cowaring, helpless to mend

The fissures that threaten to swallow us whole

And drag down to Hell mankind's collective soul.

Then a light dawns on me as I sit here and muse:

While evil has seen fit to pilfer and bruise

All the wholehearted warmth that our nation once had,

There is something in my life of which I am glad.

Jesus Christ is my Savior. God sits on His throne.

I'm under His watchcare and loved as His own.

When once my poor heart was as dark as could be,

The True Light, the Son of God, illumines me.

Since my life and my death are both held in His hand,

He has a task for me I must understand;

Because if there is something of such matchless worth

That the very Creator of Heaven and Earth

Has spared my poor wretched self just one more day,

Then the task must be completed without delay.

(For you all that read this, please do not mistake

My urgency as fear that doth shiver and quake.

The Lord did not slack, and the Son did not wait

For a "better" time whence my sin debt to abate.

If He as the Master, redeeming the time,

Up Golgotha's hill made the torturous climb

At the precise second the Father said "Go,"

Then when I am called I must do much more so.)

As stated before, our poor world lives in shock

Waiting for zero on the Doomsday Clock.

But God has good news for them, and it's my job

To comfort the mourner and calm down the mob

With the salvation story: that Jesus Christ died

And is proferring to them a place at His side.

All you who accept Him, there need be no fears;

Wrongs shall be made right when Messiah appears.

As we ascend into our heavenly place,

We gladly will thank Him for His saving grace.

And now that I've rambled and wasted your time,

I'll conclude my eschatological rhyme

With this dear closing thought of why I greet the day:

I want to tell others of Jesus, the Way.

He died for your sin; He loves you, I know.

His blood will wash your stains all whiter than snow.

If you die today, where will your soul be

In its final resting place of eternity?

For you to continue the path that you tread

Without Him will lead you to unending dread.

The horror and unease that you feel at night

Will continue forever with no end in sight.

"Man's life is a vapor;" with quick pang and yell

Your soul will burn white-hot forever in Hell.

The choice, though, is your's about where you will stay

When you stand before holy God on Judgment Day.

He made you, He wants you right close to Himself;

Now accept His free gift over pride, lust, and pelf.

Holy Writ states, "Come unto Me, and rest."

Lay now your head, soul, down on His loving breast.

   

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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