(Religious Poem) A Hollow Vessel

A HOLLOW VESSEL

 

(A Kab), a hollow vessel, be ye not

For God’s gathering place is Holy

Know ye not that our body is a Holy Vessel

It is a Promised Land, a Home to the Spirit of God

 

 

Be ye not vacant, nor your Spirit in drought

For a vacant house is open to the Master of death

Clean thy thoughts O man, for the Lord knows them

Thy heart knows thy words before they touch your lips

 

 

Please, seek ye purity of heart and of your Soul

There is nothing that we know that was not given before unto us

Kiss the ground and bow thy head O man, walk with eyes wide open

Evil is trying to snare your life and Soul with your every step

 

 

Friends we must keep the stoop to our Souls as clean as we can

At the door to our Soul, the Lord Jesus stands knocking on our heart

All of our bodies are a Home for a Spirit, either of God or Satan to dwell

If our Soul lacks God, our hollow vessel, all the way to Hell Satan will indwell!

My Name Is Nod: (About The Garden Of Eden)

OF THE SEVERAL HUNDRED POEMS THAT I HAVE WRITTEN THROUGH THE YEARS THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL FAVORITE.

This is a poem that is designed to make you think, to get you to maybe get the book of Genesis out for another look-see. Maybe, if you are not good at world geography you might want to dig into some maps of the known world of about 5,000 years or so ago. I hope that you enjoy it, quite a bit of research went into making this poem be accurate. Nod is “The Land” that is just east of the Garden of Eden.

Do you know me

Listen, does not the wind whisper

Do not the mountains echo my name

How is it you do not know me

Did not the man Moses lay out the path to my door

For two of your human generations

The Valley of The Garden of God

Was my western door

My Sister, Lake Urmia was fast a sleep

Within her no bounty ever found

As the West Gate of God’s Garden she guarded

Now she is but salty ground

Did not my mountains rumble

And spew forth fire and rocks

How is it you can not find me

Can you not hear the ticking of the clock

Many of your years ago now

One man came forth unto me

Spewed forth from the Garden of God

He came unto me, with a mark upon his head

So all my inhabitants would know

That whosoever dared touch him

Would also soon be dead

The Garden has now so long been gone

It’s land like mine is scorched

The Face of God once again I seek

But when He does once again return

Will He echo my words to you

Child, how is it you do not know me

A Hollow Vessel

 

A HOLLOW VESSEL

 

(A Kab), a hollow vessel, do not choose ye to be

For God’s gathering place is a most Holy place

Know ye not that your body is a Holy vessel

It is a Promised Land, a Home of the Spirit of God

Be ye not vacant, nor your Spirit in drought

For a vacant house is open to the Master of death

Clean thy thoughts O man, for the Lord knows them

Thy heart knows thy words before they touch your lips

Please, seek ye purity of heart and of your Soul

There is nothing that we know that was not given before unto us

Kiss the ground and bow thy head O man, walk with eyes wide open

Evil is trying to snare your life and Soul with your every step

Friends we must keep the stoop to our Souls as clean as we can

At the door to our Soul, the Lord Jesus stands knocking

All of our bodies are a Home for a Spirit, either of God or Satan to dwell

If your Soul lacks God, your hollow vessel, all the way to Hell Satan will indwell

(Humor/Poem) Wagons West

Wagons West

 

Wagon west from Virginia’s foothills

Six kids in the family

Four wheels of wood and steel

Two mules a straining at the whip

Bluegrass Appalachian foothills

Ohio river first then the mighty Mississippi

Cherokee arrows, thankful Lord, they all missed

Camping under the arch, evening sun pointing west

Wagon master hollering, everyone get in line

If the weather holds, and no injuns attack

We should all be at our new home soon

Spearfish Dakota, in about three week’s time

Mr. Custer says is no need to worry about Sioux

Says their running scared of the bugle and the blue

The train, we got six injuns riding point

You can see the hate of us in their eyes

Mr. Custer, on your words

Thirty families risk their lives

We had not yet cleared Nebraska

News came, yellow hair and the 7th

Would ride these plains no more

One more week we made the Black Hills

Land of gold, coal, and lumber

O yes and several thousand Sioux on every side

Now my family and I are all six feet under

In this cold ground we had hoped one day to plow