a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

When the King Returns

A kingdom was built
And its inhabitants rebelled
Blood was spilt
Peace expelled
An enemy moved in
Slid in among the crowd
Hid among the wind
But he's been found out
The first King will be back
On the back of a white mount
And there will be no slack
Just a flowing red fount
Shalom restored
City rebuilt, better
To God it will be moored
Full of freed debtors


Old Books