The Harvest Is Ripe Poem by Michael P. Johnson

You’re Christ You’re Lord You love us all
It’s not Your will that one should fall
So now I come on bended knee
Please take my chains and set me free

Through famine in this world of drought
I pray for faith to doubt each doubt
Allow Your Flame purge deep inside
Consume my filth and foolish pride

Please save this child don’t pass me by
Without Your grace in shame I’ll die
Shake loose these chains that have me bound
Allow me climb to higher ground

Salvation’s road though paved with pain
Let not my trials be met in vain
My misspent youth flew by in haste
The time I’ve left is not to waste

Right now its time for me to start
A burden seethes within my heart
Many are blind still lost and sick
The fields grow ripe ready to pick

My hour has come Your truth to share
The sheep yet bound, need righteous fare
Lord send me forth, there’s much to do
Can’t leave the work to just a few

Anoint Your servant, send me out
Give Liquid Light to end the drought
Your sheep must find Salvation’s Well
That none on earth should end in hell

I know my God You see it all
But now I too can see them fall
So here I come Lord here I stand
Awaiting now Your next command