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Mercies’ Cry

Children at play in their fort


The quality of mercy is not strain’d.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

What all includes the results of mercy?

It, for certain, escapes the earthy.

Divine favor, yes Divine, I say, it multiplies,

a gathering of honey, dripping comb wide.

 

 

Rain, like that which soothes the hard day’s scorch, And more; topsoil and clay both absorb,
Blood is our sprinkle, water the shower, But what’s the filth for wash this hour?

A hideous substance, a lingering debris,
It identifies me, and will not let me free.
It drags me to turn, hangs over the shoulder,
It lurks in corners, and makes me feel older.

It opposes spontaneous, it inhibits free,
It clings so sooty, it covers the knee,
Moistening tear ducts, and standing neck hair,
It hardens like Brillcream, a dab here and there.

 

 

Like a poison ivy itch, or a chickenpox stitch, A good sunburn red, or a backache twitch,
Dandruff a flaking, psoriasis a caking, Athletic toes cracking, the brain a racking.

Some call it disease, and others sin,
Friends, mercy attacks the underpin,
Not the superficia, but the core,
Dare we say it? iniquity and more.

Yes, sin is the subject, rebellion too,

Pride, arrogance, hatred, slander,
Yes the big boys, and O yah! we’re the blame,
Booze and narcs and sex and shame.

A filthy mouth or a
piercing tongue,
An impulse regretted, a
decision flung,
A reaction shouted, a
person hung,
A wish to die, a vision
turned to dung.

 

 

Let the imagination take it from here,
All I know is —we must not fear,
Cause mercy, sweet mercy
Takes over with tears.

We are not to be punished? not to be killed?
Hell that awaits all, is not His will?
Nay, the Savior, calls. “they are mine!”
I paid for them all, with my own blood, Divine.

Hands off devil, your chance you had,
Your invented plague left many bad,
Mercy rejoices today, O shocking turn-around,
Its mystery, mystique, stopped a soul burning down.

Instead a crown, O how can it be?
Awaits the mercied-out believer, O mercy me,
The sin and effects, He bottled em both,
Thank you Lord Jesus, for mercies’ oath.

 

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