When Will It Be Too Late? by: Amy Sanchez
The distant echo of the thunder and the rain,
All this pressure just creates an immortal stain,
Penetrating deep into the fabric of our time,
Creating a tear in this selfish world I once called mine,
Never fully releasing the warrior He buried within,
Regretfully giving up this great battle we are supposed to win.
We fight with rubber gloves and tin hats so shiny we fashion,Giving up, giving in, and sacrificing precious souls without ration,
Who’s world is this? Does it belong to man and flesh?
Within the deep rot and stench of sin, many would look and exclaim yes,
Where is our sword, our shield, our precious saintly strength?
Where is the trust in the power we cry for and preach about at great length?
So lonely is our world filled with people left and right,
Just closed in this cold place never knowing day from night,
But here we are, the warriors, sitting and twiddling our thumbs,
Ignoring the blood thirsty battle and the cry of the wars carnal drums,
Step out! Finally, reach out and stop worrying about your clean hands,
They wont be clean for long when their souls lay slain as you stand.
Hear the warning- The enemy is near and bringing his best attempts,
He will try to steal their hearts away- push them farther away from redemption,
They are all asleep, dead alike with their eyes so tightly closed,
Never knowing the sweet touch of grace from the God who divinely rose,
For his names sake, we clamor to help them to awake.
Run fast, make haste, because in this battle Our God is calling your name.
Oh when, Lord when will it be too late?
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