So, last night I was at our hunting camp, and all of a sudden I felt compelled to write a poem. I have not written any kind of rhyme or poetry since I was very young. As a matter of fact, I have never been a big fan of poetry until about 10 years ago when I read Beth Moore's book of poetry called "Things Pondered". I found that book last week at a flea market. Maybe it was that, maybe it was the Holy Spirit,...I don't know. Maybe it was because recently I have spoken to two people who only "hoped" they were going to Heaven. My poem does not even have a title..but here goes:
It's the end of your life
It's time to go
You stand at the gate
With no feeling of woe.
It's Jesus you see
Is it yes or no?
Why should you enter?
He wants to know.
I went to church
I prayed each day
I did good deeds
So what do you say?
He asks me a question
What about me?
Did you declare me your Saviour?
Salvation is free.
Did you just want to feel good?
Or was I Lord of your life?
Did you know my victory?
Or only life's strife.
If you died to self
And confessed your sin
Then no need to worry
You can come in.
What a glorious day
When you see his face
No sorrow or tears
You finished the race.
