Update: Site Moved to sermonnotespoem.wordpress.com

Hello all, just wanted to let you know that we have switched to another site. If you like what your reading, take a look at these poems and my new poems at the new site https://sermonnotespoem.wordpress.com/ . Y'all have wonderful day!
God bless,
~Amos Wilson

Psalm 19: When Did We Forget?

Amos Wilson (February 22, 2015)

When did we forget,

Who it was that wrote the Law?

Does our opinion count,

If we refute the word of God?

The Bible is complete.

And perfect in integrity,
It does convert the soul,
Restoring with vivacity.

When God will testify,

You can trust it with your life,
If you would listen well,
It would make the simple wise.

Jehovah visits us,

His precepts hold us to account.
Their straightness gives us joy,
By them our hearts with praise will shout.

Read therefore His commands,

For they are clear, and clean, and pure.
It cleans our foggy eyes,
To walk with God in footsteps sure.

The fear of God is clean,

Enduring then forever more.
His justice too is right,
With truth together to the core.

Amidst the muse of man,

And chaos of our ordered state,
The fantasy of man,
Is but as sewage – putrid, dank.

In all our sagely thoughts,

Did we forget the Mind that made?
Devising brilliant laws,
That we reject, with pride we break.

Read His Word, O man!

Resist the scoffers prideful taunt!
Recommend His Laws!
Reflect it, serve it as you ought!

Psalm 19: The Message of the Sky

Amos Wilson (February 15, 2015)

The heavens – thinnest parchment made –

On them is writ one simple thing:

The handiwork of God of gods,

The glory of Creator King.

“The king of mountains,

Highland fountains,

Who treads the wonders of the earth,

Shaping wind,

What man intends,

And forging dawn in astral flame,

The Lord of Host is called His name.” (Amos 5:13)

The language of the day and night,

And morphemes of the universe,

There is no tongue or ethnic group,

Who can not hear these stars converse.

Their speech is like a plumb-line's guide,

That stretches over all the land,

If one would dare to bend off-plumb,

He'll be destroyed by God's own hand.

The sun, nomadic, from his tent,

Now burst to cast ethereal dawn,

As would a groom from nuptial suite,

An athlete poised, prepared to run.

He rises from the edge of sky,

His tireless race to swiftly speed.

His circuit compasses the earth,

And nothing can escape his heat.

The God who made,

All this displayed,

And burns his law upon our souls,

Must thus deserve –

with no reserve –

All men who live upon earth's face,

To praise Him for eternal grace. 

Psalm 18: For What Purpose Was I Saved?

Amos Wilson (February, 8 2015)

My God you have delivered me,

Yet for what purpose was I saved?

– I surely don't deserve your grace,

I should slave,

Into the grave –

For what purpose, tell?

Listen, listen well.

Against the striving of my kin,

You made me head to reign supreme.

Even the tribes from lands unknown,

Will tribute bring,

To me as king –

Then for what purpose saved?

To rule o'er what You gave.

I will exalt the Lord who saved.

Life is Christ – so I will praise,

Since God destroyed and fought my foes,

To God of days,

I write my lays –

So for what purpose then?

To sing His praise to men.

For years He has delivered me,

And showed me mercy just,

To me and mine forever more,

O Lord of us,

In You I trust –

Then for what purpose, say?

To know where I must stay.

Worship

Amos Wilson (September 21, 2014)

Exalt the God, with praise applaud

He is our Lord Creator,

So let us hear with Godly fear,

For we are all his debtors.

Let hoary ones, and sucklings young,

Let every are and gender,

Be all set free and to God flee,

To worship none to hinder.

Come hear the law, ye weak, ye braw,

With fasting and with weeping,

At this direct do not neglect,

To bring your child seeking.

Sing His praise, a great noise raise,

These babies each know how, and

Don't let them go, for who would know,

But one could feed five thousand?

There is a place to separate,

With decency partition,

But do not bar and risk to mar

the spirit of God's nation.

Would you exclude from heaven's food,

The youth to fools' assembly?

Such raucous groups to mocking stoop,

And bears look on unfriendly

The youthful kind and sober mind,

The blossom and the rose-hip

The toddle's voice with age rejoice,

One symphony of worship.

We

Amos Wilson (February 16, 2014)

It was snowing on that mountain path,

And I was weak and young,

I wandered merry, weary, here and there,

Youthful mind and tongue.

Then I saw her in the road ahead,

That charming, graceful she,

I matured ten years that day, that hour,

I longed to make her we.

But snow is difficult to till and tend,

A tree can’t make a home,

I must prepare to work – for her, for me,

Or we will never come.

But I must give her more than food and clothes,

The Scripture is food, too,

Can I read, and understand and teach,

Instructions right and true?

Do I have respect, and good companions?

And “favor with man?”

Once I have all of these, I’ll come for her,

I’ll win her – then I can.

One warm hand I hold within my hand,

One heart against my heart,

As we trudge for that far summit high,

We vowed never to part

On our left there dropped a massive ditch,

To our right a quag,

We held each other close in center way,

We could not fall or lag.

Some others made it through this path alone,

But we needed the other,

Or else the rocks and winds that plagued the way,

Would cause we-split to falter.

Once I sprained my wrist to keep her steady,

Once she hurt her arm.

Despite the pain, we traveled on and on,

Keeping our mate from harm.

One night we stopped at a road-side inn to rest,

Then, nine miles later,

She – with pain – birthed us a daughter sweet,

Of course, we’ll never trade her.

That was the first, be sure that we had more,

We formed a little tribe.

Many gawked and said we had too many,

But when we stopped I cried.

Then we found another for our first,

And more, of course, did come,

There was one for every son and daught’,

Which formed a mighty sum.

We could have been an army of our own,

On that trail we walked,

Each of ours had several of their own,

But we were the stalk.

Our influence had reached the far and wide,

When to the mount we came,

It was our Nebo, the rest would follow later,

When they reached the same.

So we climbed, with wrinkled hand in hand,

We reached the heights resolved,

When we reached the resurrected He,

Our needless rings dissolved.

He had joined us both and made us we,

At that our long-past start,

We part to join in Him another we,

Communion with His heart.

The same, but different was our we in him,

In that mountain land,

But if you are not here, I’ll not explain,

I doubt you’ll understand.

Three

Amos Wilson (November 10, 2013)

One holy Trinity,

One killed upon a tree,

Three doomed to hell and death,

The Devil, World, and Flesh.

Three times one did deny,

A rooster rent the sky,

Three questions he was given,

To prove he was forgiven.

The Covenants were three,

The Old, the New, and Yet-To-Be.