My life is chocked-up,
Surrounded by small
And mighty enemies.
Lord, let them know;
I am not my maker,
When did i become a fence
Obstructing the arrows
Of my hunters?
Or have my shoulder ever
Grown strong to muscle them? .
I say; Let them know that
Pure stream did not spring
From the pride of the rock,
It is Lord's doing that i be
If it is the mind of all;
I am a dead man that will not rise.
Tell them,
Let them know:
That whatever i had,
That which i had done,
Which i am doing now,
And will ever do forever,
Is not by my power or will
But He who strengthens me.
Lord my strength,
Lord my protector,
My armoury spear,
The thunder storming my hedge,
My heart beats in rhyme,
In peace i dwell for He lives
Enemies surrounding me,
Darkness growing in me,
Beating the drum of doom,
So soon my death seem nigh,
But in Him i hold my peace,
I will not die but live,
Will never face grave but Heaven. Amen!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem