by John S.A. Watts
O sing the Gospel passionate pen of mine,
that man with his God may rightly align,
proclaim it that salvation may arrive,
and make the creation truly alive,
tell the cause for which man should justly strive;
shine forth numbers that spell His holy grace:
He’s stored for everyone a special place,
a heavenly mansion if one believes,
and, O man, well the human heart retrieves
its faith when it tastes His goodness and love,
He gives sans measure from the Sacred Dove;
and He is good indeed, most greatly good
who bore our sins and shed for us His blood,
a friend for the lost, He laid down His life,
so that we may avoid spiritual strife,
such perpetual pain no man’s soul need bear
if only we would make the Son our care;
will the goodies of the world be your pleasure
against the store of His eternal treasure,
man? Why be the fool to chase after fleeting
joys when there are far better to be meeting,
and granting your heart’s abundant delight
if only you would convert from the night,
with contrition to come into the light,
and be guided by spiritual eyesight,
seeing our kind Lord wishes us no fight,
but He deigned to step down from glory’s height
in order to put man with his God right;
for to be the last sacrifice He entered
into this sick world in human form rendered,
how the one God did not balk to abase
Himself so that He could plead mankind’s case,
we ought be astonished eternally
at such loving show of humility
and endeavour to imitate the Son
for such a pure and sacred act of love done;
despite any mocker’s disparity
He’s the embodiment of charity,
and didn’t leave us for the shame of death,
but intends for us eternity’s breath,
in spite of a wicked resolve to sin,
committing crime against God and earth’s kin,
man, the way of the dark can never win;
O be not given to it nonbelievers,
depart from the ranks of atheism adherers;
would you reason? Stake not to reason’s passion,
but be sworn to show pity and compassion,
and in the Gospel is their truest fashion,
the badge of virtue, the crown of the just,
to give food to the hungry as we must
is what goodness gets done, not just discussed;
but it to do shows hearts already bust,
O, callous, cold, crooked-persuaded man,
not to make the poor most important plan;
but you are the poor and needy who ban
the love for neighbour from your human breast,
indigent, impoverished, in waste you rest
who wouldn’t desire others better blessed!
O Lord my God forgive the sins of us
who prefer to make our own world our fuss.
We can’t be perfect but we can still try
and we’ll be happy we did when we die,
to reach heaven hearing all angels’ cry
leaping to us with most inviting greeting,
at the Father’s table to have our seating,
if only we accept the cross with faith
and continue to pray He keeps us safe,
for prayer is a power none should be without,
and saves us from soul separating doubt.
And with repentance genuine we should be,
that we may be holy and considerably
so, any else and you’ll soon live miserably
(if you’d be good that’s more than a probably).
But isn’t it complicated, the Scripture,
who’ll enlighten its deep words and be teacher–
surely it’s not task of poet come preacher?
O its simple because He wants to save us,
and its simply crazy how He does crave us!
The choice, though, man, is yours; then be no fool,
to deny Him is to do yourself cruel,
to do love, each day appealing to you,
done with, that would be soul’s healing to you.
John S.A. Watts
Writer
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