Psalm Poem by Sophia White

Man, a travesty of his beginning,
A finite beast that crawls the earth,
Moaning in his exile,
Far from his intended hearth,
So wretched in his mourning,
So wicked in his way,
How could he be the Beloved
Of the Ancient of Days?
God, in all his glory,
The Holy King of Light,
In Heaven’s magnificent halls,
From whom flees the night,
Calls out so soft and tender,
His voice resounds as thunder,
And summons to groveling Man
With a love that surpasses all.
Man, with eternal scowling,
Hears not His gentle voice
And runs away foolheaded,
Thinking in his stubborn way
That God is not, and that Man is.
The great I AM is watching,
His tears mix with His wrath,
Wrath so just and deserved
Of Man on his wicked path.
God, in all His mercy,
Who loves incomprehensibly,
Lets Man run his own way
That in the end, the few who chose,
The few who believe the Son,
Might love and truly love
But those who don’t, lose.
Lose their lives, their souls
To their own darkling ways.
How great and fair is He!
The Almighty Ancient of Days!