Poking At Truth - Poem by Bob Gotti
Avoiding Truth comes with cost, but this is the choice of the lost.
Oppose God through evil desire and you will live in the Lake of Fire.
Continue ignoring The Blessed Cross and you’ll suffer eternal loss.
Believing that they do believe, but New Life is just a joke you see.
They say there’s no absolutes anymore, but are they absolutely sure?
There’s no sin it’s in your head, this proves your spiritually dead.
Sin is real, it’s in your heart and without The Lord you will depart.
There’s no God, that’s a joke, but on these very words they’ll choke.
Man did fall as it was written, for the forbidden fruit was bitten.
All have sinned, this you know, but He’ll wash you whiter than snow.
Christ died for you and for me, my friend He died for us upon a tree.
He died so you may see His face and save you from eternal disgrace.
If you think that all men are saved, why are so many still depraved?
If you think that all men are well, why is there a place called Hell?
Hell is not a place of eternal fun, instead a place to fear and shun.
But Heaven you don’t want to miss, for it’s a place of Eternal Bliss.
The fool says there is no God, but this poor soul will see His rod.
Men have boasted of empty pride, many of whom have long since died.
A fool once said God is dead, but who wound up in the grave instead?
Choosing the steps in life to trod they now must face The Living God.
The Bible is just another book, but you need to take another look.
Just take a look and you will see God’s divinely fulfilled prophecy.
If The Bible is from men not seers, how was it done over 1500 years?
My friend, have you not heard that Jesus Himself is The Living Word.
Comments about Poking At Truth by Bob Gotti
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe