—
I thank you, God: You heard Your servant’s prayer,
My earnest plea that You hold back Your wrath
Upon the wicked city You will tear
To pieces by the seam that makes its path
Across its rotten flesh and wicked heart,
Whose mouth declares that You approve its sin,
That You approve the unborn ripped apart,
That You approve that men would lie with men.
And when Your fury shakes their darkest day,
I’m praying now that sinful men will know
That hea’en above and trembling earth below
Agreed upon the devastating blow.
I am no longer praying for delay;
Perhaps their cup of wrath is full today.
————————————————————————————–
© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
The Bard on the Hill 