Trumpet Call to His Elect

This man is weak, flesh and bones,
Carries weights and depends on light.
But with grace abounding, love unabashing,
God's trumpet sounding, angels heard.
The Elect come running, rising, returning;
The deadness left to barren pastures,
And joy fills the rising air like lilacs in a storm.
The miller left his grinding.
The worker finished his task.
The soldier was relieved.

Holy hands, with no wrath nor doubting,
Kept by the shepherd's staff,
Were troubled not in the least.
Woes of famines, blasts of death,
Shouts of battle songs arose
In the north, in the south, west and east.
Man the weak, the lesser of the sword,
Gave his word to seek his wrangling peace.
No success, evil breeded, conquests of lust
And malice scorched the earth to its roots.

Then came a brief excursion into peace,
As the world rested on a hill in the eye,
In the throat of the fire, of the flame in the wind
Of a tornado's lie, all in the Beast's belly.
No true rest could this be.
The kings derobed.
Robbed of glory.
In bed with fear as the seals are broken.

Caves and mountains may hide the bewildered,
As the melting comfort runs into floods
And washes them away into the deafening
Trumpet plagues in the shadow of the angelic host.
Refuge on the Rock, refuge in El Shadadi,
Within the warm embrace of the Son of God,
Showers some souls with life as many others die.
The Beast adjusts his tie, with ironed shirt,
With mighty sword, with cuff links sparkling,
And challenges the Sovreign God.
Battles are fought.
Wakes of heartbreak come with
Blood up to the horse's bridle.

The world crying, God enacted
All the troubles for the darkened earth,
For the judgement of sin to be without sun
Or any substance, presense, or reminder of life
While the purchased, blood cleansed holy hearts
Were scooped up and collected into His favor.
This man was weak, flesh and bones,
That was all (nothing more) but made new.