We view the hostile world at Rahab’s window
Past it’s scarlet thread, reminded of that better blood
Shed for our good to bathe us of the debt we owe to God.
Forgiven outcasts, found in sin, we have been blessed at Jericho,
For down below, the men of Joshua are marching round
The walls to blow their trumpet-blasts – remembering
To show Yeshua’s mercy to us, huddled in our stalls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem