The Lamp

3 Comments

The Lamp

The Lamp

I walked in darkness many years of my life
Tossed to and fro putting up with the strife
Having no answers but wanting to know
Are there directions I can find to help me go?

I had glimpses of light or just a spark to view
But they were just distractions of old and nothing new
Walking along with tears in my eyes
Wanting to know the one who put the stars in the skies

I walked into many a church and sat in a pew
Listening to what they said, still hearing nothing new
I knew there had to be a way or some kind of proof
Of something or someone to help me find truth

Then one day after so many years of sorrow and pain
Came a stranger up to me who looked quite plain
But the words she spoke were like honey to me
For they were quite delightful and seemed heavenly

I thought all my life that I had to pay
For the wrongs I’ve done each and every day
But my eyes were enlightened when I heard the truth
And believed in my heart and manifested proof

Because I now knew that the price was paid to make me free
By God’s only begotten Son, He paid it for me
To be seated in the heavenlies spiritually speaking
Knowing that all the things that bound me were finally beaten

Enlightened eyes and spiritual understanding are my very need
Because God is light my works list is gone my burden has been freed
Each step I now take with great love and care
For my brethrens sake I serve God’s Word here and there

My Father has called me to be His son
By grace was I saved it is finished it is done
God’s Word is pure and tried to make me a champ
I can walk with boldness because God’s Word is my lamp.

By Darrell Stevens

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poetry2069 commented on The Lamp

03-09-2010

Great poem and beautiful and truthful too. Thanks for posting!

Charlie23 commented on The Lamp

08-30-2009

This is a beautiful poem! Sometimes it's someone very unexpected who opens your eyes! Your very talented in bringing a message to light!

GentleT commented on The Lamp

06-24-2009

Very beautiful testimony there. And your working for him by writing the poem. What seemed like a chore is a delight.

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

sogwap’s Poems (21)

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