by Erin Philpott
(Age 16)
Creation cloaks itself in darkness.
Man reaps a harvest of despair.
The rich have not– their souls are shackled.
Mankind seems well beyond repair.
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Our cities’ watchmen all are sleeping.
Evil creeps in lest they should wake.
They don’t arise to shout a warning
so they face death for their mistake.
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My life was once in this corruption.
I fell for Satan’s masquerade.
But a watchman rose and blew his trumpet,
and I found the love I had betrayed.
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I was bought with blood and redeemed by mercy,
but my brethren are still in their chains.
And who but I can hope to warn them?
For our time is little that remains.
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I’ll climb that wall and fight for freedom.
From their slumber the called will rise.
Death can’t win if the heirs are watching,
for we will escape our sealed demise.
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So I will choose to be a watchman.
I’ll warn the lost and join the fight.
The dead will rise at the sound of trumpets,
and Christ will save us from our plight!
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Woe to Death for we have the vict’ry!
Joy to man for life has come!
All nations shout the glory anthems
for the Lamb has overcome!