Wednesday, August 31, 2016

THE MIDNIGHT HOUR

The preacher spoke of the midnight hour,
The zenith of old Satan’s power,
When things unseen are always mean
And nothing good can thrive.

Satan will cloak the eye and soul
To lead the blind with mal control
Then cackle at the hideous cries
Until the dawn brings light.

But darkness hath another veil,
Exact in each minute detail
To the midnight hour’s fears;
I’ve walked that daylight dark.

In broad daylight, inside the mind,
A dread unease, yet undefined,
Gives in to Satan’s unholy grip
On the struggling soul.

The devil hates to lose control,
Not because he respects man’s role;
He cares naught about the man;
He wars with our God on High.

The preacher spoke of the midnight hour,
That sleepless time to cringe and cower,
When demons taunt the mind,
And they will follow past the dawn.

But the Good Lord says, “I will give you rest.”
And He has answered each request,
When I have—earnest—sought in prayer
Release from the midnight demons’ snare.


                                    --Monty Wheeler

Saturday, August 27, 2016

THE TIMES TO COME

The dying and the dead
Lay littered o’er the Tribulation’s red
Of poisoned rivers flowing blood of persecution.

Three sixes feed the hungered poor;
“Want” spreads far and wide.
O’er the public intercom,
They mock the cries of the child who died
For its mother’s indiscretion.

But naught is placed on a baby’s life
For countless fall to the surgical knife,
And no one cares, and no one hears…

But God.

 Under the rule of the Unholy Three,
The Great Deceiver, the beast
And the one who paved the way,
Death shall fall to all who oppose,
And those once crying, “Cease oppression!”
Press down the thumb of taut control;
One after another dead martyred roll
Into the pit.

They'd’d promised “Stronger together”
For a world but weak’s the tether
That binds the rule of the Unholy One.

Countless others have already gone!

They’d disappeared, those staunch believers;
The sky had glowed with great white light.
Father, son, sister, brother,
Daughter from her loving mother,
All separated one from the other.

And left to wander in the Rapture’s ash,
They will ponder and they’ll wish;
All those who had doubted and those who’d postponed
Suddenly wish their sins atoned.

 Yet even in the years of terror and trials,
God, the Father, still rules all.
And He has promised…

Then rising from the ashes,
New believers stand against
The evil institution.
With the Gunslinger’s cry,
“Kill if you will but command of me nothing!”
They bow to none, not man nor beast,
And not to the devil, himself.

For it’s been writ…

God will bolster with His hand,
Those who dare to stand
Against the dark Commander in chief
Who comes in the night as killer and thief.

Somewhere in the years of the blood,
Jesus comes for those who stood
And rewards them with redemption.

Though years of needless suffering.

“O, Lamb of God, I come. I come.”


--Monty Wheeler