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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
Until the nets are full,
