Praise #31, the Somber Loft of Faith

Every eye, shall they not preach Jesus 

when Thou ridest in on cloud

canst it not be proven

in every knowing mind?

Or is even our king of kings

told only by believing tongues?

A victim of sad chance on tragic Earth 

Songs of praise

shall fall upwards out of the valleys

while moonless dawnlight flickers,

while summer morns yawn beyond the sway

of breezes? 

The Lord is in the boardroom

drawing plans for thee

not in the money chamber

but the quiet nestle of the faint heart

our faith is but a babe, a matchbook miracle 

Thinkest thou, faith matters not

that God makest not good sense?

Let us reason, then, evil twin:

If everything were logic-ruled

then would He not need to shout

from rooftop perches and shake the skies

pleading thus, I AM!

(Is that not the end of logic, then?)

Real truth sans our Lord, the CHRIST

empty, vanquished without him

His proof is one life changed profoundly

ascending securely the somber loft of faith

About Pete Mladineo

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