by Gary Jacobson
The hand of God comes today
In a solemn, quieted way.
It comes not with fire as a bush burning,
Nor thunder clapping
His Holy Word Trumpets blaring
From lands far and away over the rainbow,
On mortals His divine will to bestow.
His eternal secrets He will
In His good time make known,
Spotted sins from mortals atone.
Godís sweetest message
In towering faith can mountains budge,
From His loving arms art symbols,
Voiced by heavenly choirs of angels
Plucking heartstrings to the weary soul inspire
With gentle touch of soulful lyre.
God will not cajole
Beg nor plead,
For to entice wayward souls in need
To plant words bearing His Divine seed
To with heavenly perfection adorn
His magnificent wonders to perform.
His voice is as of a whisper
That the morally deaf cannot hear,
Refusing even His good tidings to bear,
Abiding only softened, fertile hearts,
His great message of redemption imparts.
Abiding sweetly crystal clear,
That no mortal man should fear
From a beloved son who died on Calvary,
Giving His life that we might be...
Oh ye that search for the Father of thine soul,
May thine beleaguered spirit by the Master
Be made whole.
Searching for His goodness
Both high and low
From lofty mountaintops
To verdant valleys below.
Reach ye for the hand of the Almighty God
To deliver from pathways unrighteous
On this hallowed sod
The straight and narrow path back to God.
Back to His holy of holies presence
Back to His blissfully divine essence.
Make His sacrifice not be in vain.
Strive ye Celestial goals to attain.
Always with God walk upright
To the very end, fight the good fight!