POEM: About God by David N Donihue

A poem about God by the wonderful Robert Service.

A wild and woeful race he ran
Of lust and sin by land and sea;
Until, abhorred of God and man,
They swung him from the gallows tree.
And then he climbed the Starry Stair,
And dumb and naked and alone,
With head unbowed and brazen glare,
He stood before the Judgment Throne.

The Keeper of the Record spoke:
“This man, O Lord, has mocked thy name.
The weak have wept beneath his yoke,
The strong have fled before his flame.
The blood of babes is on his sword;
His life is evil to the brim:
Look down, decree his doom, O Lord!
Lo! There is none will speak for him.

The golden trumpets blew a blast
That echoed in the crypts of Hell,
For there was judgment to be past,
And lips were hushed and silence fell.
The man was mute, he made no stir,
Erect before the Judgment seat. . .
When all at once a mongrel cur
Crept out and cowered and licked his feet.

It licked his feet with whining cry.
Come Heav’n, come Hell, what did it care?
It leapt, it tried to catch his eye;
Its Master, yea, its God was there.
Then as a thrill of wonder sped
Through throngs of shining seraphim,
The Judge of All looked down and said:
Lo! Here is one who pleads for him.

And who shall love of these the least,
And who by word or look or deed
Shall pity show to bird or beast,
By Me shall have a friend in need.
Aye, though his sin be black as night,
And though he stand ‘Mid men alone,
He shall be softened in my sight,
And find a pleader by My Throne.

“So let this man to glory win,
From life to life salvation glean;
By pain and sacrifice and sin,
Until he stand before Me…..clean.
For he who loves the least of these
(And here I say and here repeat)
Shall win himself an angel’s plea
For Mercy at My Judgment Seat…..The wonderful Robert Service.

Another poem about God by the wonderful Robert Service.

The junior god looked from his place
In the conning towers of heaven,
And he saw the world through the spin of space
Like a giant golf ball driven.
And because he was bored, as some gods are,
With high celestial mirth,
He clutched the reins of a shooting star,
And steered it down to the earth.

The junior god ‘neath leaf and bud,
Passed on with a merry air,
Til lo! He came to a pool of mud,
And some hogs were rolling there.
Then in he plunged with gleeful cries,
And down he lay supine;
For they had no mud in paradise,
And they likewise had no swine.

The junior god forgot himself;
He squelched mud through his toes;
With the careless joy of a wanton boy
His reckless laughter rose.
Til, tired at last, in a brook nearby,
He washed off every stain;
Then softly up to the radiant sky
He rose, a god again.

The junior god now heads the roll
In the list of heaven’s peers;
He sits in the house of High Control,
And regulates the spheres.
Yet does he wonder, do you suppose,
If even in gods divine,
The best and wisest may not be those.
Who have wallowed awhile with the swine? …Robert Service