Counter strike

When lies invade your mind
Protect yourself with truth.
Let honorable things be your constant guard,
Respite will never come.
The enemy will throw at you
All things impure,
He will stir up
All of your past and flaws:
Hold fast to what is pure.

All righteous things,
May they abound
Among your thoughts
When those unjust well up –
Concealed volcanoes of the deep.

All that is lovely may ebb and flow
When toxic clouds come fog your mind.
Things of a good report,
And all commendable
Before your eyes you keep.

If there be any virtue,
grab hold of that
and flee from all the filth
that flood your mind and heart.

If there be any praise
I plead with you:
fill up your thoughts with these
and pray the God of peace
your thoughts and heart may guard
in Christ Jesus your King.

If you, indeed, were raised with him
seek all the things above.

All your affection in your heart
be set on things concerning God,
not on the sewage of this world
that oh, so many drink of,
for you have died
but, still, you live
hidden with Christ in God.

So, put to death
all that is of this earth in you,
and rise and reign with Him,
as Christ himself has brought you
into His Kingdom,
through gates of splendour
not opened by men
but by his own bleeding wounds.
His blood has purchased you,
you’re only His,
into the everlasting life
to live solely for Him,
with Him.

One of those

I’m hurt but I don’t feel it.
Something of me is gone.
I walk the ground but
but I don’t feel the soil.
I use my hands
but I’m not whole.

They see me and
all walk away.
No touch am I allowed.
No love and no consideration.
I’m poor, rejected, on my own,
yet, I can’t live alone.

I’ve hurt myself
and still I do.
The sores are everywhere.
The greatest ache of all
I have, is not
feeling pain at all.
And still I hurt.

Some sores, have been done unto me.
Others, I’ve done myself.
The hardest pain
still is
that there is no pain at all.
If only I could feel.

There is no coming back
to wholeness.
No expectation, no hope for me.
Though, there’s a rumour
that in another land,
and in another time
One man has walked the earth
And touched my kind.

He made them feel again.
He gave them hopes and dreams,
He welcomed back to him
the ones they banished and
walked past.
He made them whole again.

I am one of that kind.
But blessed feet don’t
walk my land.
Rumours still go and come
onto the highways and the hedges.

I am still here waiting for
blessed feet to come.
Waiting for those hands
to welcome me.
I’m one of the unwhole.
I’m one of those they call
a leper.
(C) SFR 03/07/11