Judge Noble Thy Neck The Yoke Poem by James McLain

Judge Noble Thy Neck The Yoke;
not purged,
The law, cannot but lay law less,
closed within those hands;
that bend from wills,
once laid hidden,
there gowns from clouds cloaked therein
transparency.
Judge then those crimes that were commited,
against that yoke, this thier is from your fear.
The pain of mind that leaves behind all of that
which once held dear, too that soul.
That yoke of lore,
even then off thou now discerned would hold the
mighty Samson.
Bound in fairness, yoked to freedom, dragged under
ground from fear of you and your kind,
the heart that havens, the soul of despair and from
the mind of hopelessness letting that evil reign.