In His grip I see His suffering
Deep grief as Father weeps
An inner shaking of a gentle giant
Yet with fury as the King of Kings.
Debauchery fills His vision
His gaze too pure to see
Yet anger of the righteous Godhead
Must soon judge wicked schemes.
His sheep now lame and wounded
Led astray by clever themes
Spirits sent from darkness
Have entered the souls of these.
The sword of His mouth is sharpened
Soon it will pierce the earth
While patient is our gentle giant
His justice is nearing birth.
The trembling upon His heart aching
Must fill the heavenly throne
For great would be His agony
As He watches His children stoned.
Thru tornadoes, quakes, and hurricanes
Could it be His anger is shown?
Yet sleeping is this generation
Dismissing His powerful moan.
(Shelly Wilson, June 3, 2015)
