The Last Trumpet



 

Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, and drought;
Revelations fulfilling The End Times, no doubt.
Death and destruction put on a new face,
As God's wrath is poured out upon the whole human race.

We can foretell our future, as God turns each page.
With the last days upon us, He's setting the stage.
Seven angels stand ready to pour out their vials;
Filled with fire, hail, and brimstone that reach thousands of miles.

I watch the Heavens for signs of the King;
The shout that will take us up out of this thing.
Man’s wrath against man, so violent to see,
Won’t hold a candle to what there will be.

I don’t want to be here when the angels begin
To empty their vials on a world filled with sin.
As the birth of a child when the time’s drawing near,
Contractions of nature, everywhere, now appear.

We watch the horror go on and we weep,
And wonder how any human being can sink ...
To such a low level, to such repulse;
Still walking, existing, in the midst of us.

This, no-name or uniform, terrorist tribe
Came from the depths where the devils hide.
All underhand games, all torture, disgust ~
Come from knaves who have tricked someone’s trust.

Never forget God is still in control.
He has a beautiful home for the soul.
Watch hard and listen. For, soon comes His call,
When He’ll take all who trust his sweet name - take them all.

Then, at last, in the Regions of Lasting Love,
We shall dwell in a glorious home, up above.
We’ll join the bright angels, with praises each day;
Living in God’s land and living His way!


© 2004 by Joan Clifton Costner & Vickie Lambdin
http://underhiswings0.tripod.com
http://www.angelfire.com/poetry/lambdin/home.html
http://www.angelfire.com/nc2/treasuredthoughts/PoetryVickie.html

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