Like Bard of old, a song I sing, as ancient as the earth,
For troubled times and worried minds, enduring lifeless dearth.
Man was made from dirt of earth, to dirt he will return;
No hope or light in Adam’s curse for souls destined to burn.
But Elohim conceived a plan, in Eden’s paradise lost
To turn again the hearts to him of those who count the cost
A Son, A Lamb, A Warrior Great came unto earth and suffered much
Though a King, a throne was not for what His search was wont
A soul! A soul! Was it for mine, that he did die and bleed?
My soul in chains and darkly stained, should never have been freed.
For souls he came—for souls he died, but that was not the end.
For though a grave did him contain he surely rose again.
We all partake of Adam’s curse, to toil and work the land,
And cannot share in God’s great love with pure and unscarred hands.
All men are lovers of themselves, and not lovers of God,
None exempted from the plight of those who walk this sod.
Temptations from the Liar’s throat, more fiery than a brand,
Suffer all of human birth to sift their souls to sand.
But Elohim provides a way for men to come to Him,
To leave a life of present strife and break the curse of sin.
Every man will have a choice, a decision to recall,
To give his all to God above, or slink to Satan’s call.
Will words of Faith bestir your heart, a light to guide your way?
Or will the tune of terror’s call melt your heart away?
-May 2009
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