Monthly Archives: May 2015

The Waiting

The Waiting, 5/10/15, Michael N. Johns

We’ve all heard of Moses and Israel, crossing the red sea,
We’ve all heard of Daniel, how his friends faced the fiery heat,
We’re in the darkest night, striving to follow, it’s hard to see You.
Waiting and watching, fearing Your timing, Are Your promises true?

Let Your glory cover the heavens!  Let Your praises fill the earth!
Let our pounding hearts be silent before You, held in awe of Your worth!
Though we fear what we see,
Help us wait patiently,
Your promises are true.
Your promises are true.
Help us to trust in You.

We all see the evil in the world just growing: Wars, and no harmony
We all see the storms, earthquakes and wind blowing.  Why do You watch silently?
We’re in the darkest night, our prayers feel hollow, it’s hard to see You.
Waiting and watching, fearing Your timing, Are Your promises true?

Let Your glory cover the heavens!  Let Your praises fill the earth!
Let our pounding hearts be silent before You, held in awe of Your worth!
Though we fear what we see,
Help us wait patiently,
Your promises are true.
Your promises are true.
Help us to trust in You.

We are weak!  Strengthen us!
We’ve fallen! Raise us up!
Come save Your children, O God!

Though we fear what we see,
Help us wait patiently,
Your promises are true.
Your promises are true.
Help us to trust in You.

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Those E-Mail Advertisements

Those E-mail Advertisements and Photos (in the Sidebar of my email account…)

(An open letter to all the “free” email account providers – please stop it – , and a caveat to women whose images are available on the internet)

Oh, God, how I hate not knowing who she is,
Not wanting to know makes me feel even worse,
But in my sidebars and emails, there she is,
With harems of more beauties, an evil curse,

Why is your picture in an email advert,
Or a sidebar I can’t delete or ignore?
I’d rather not see your feelings getting hurt,
But I look and my brain screams, “please stop! no more!”

The saddest thing is, I suspect you aren’t you,
Your image is pirated, abused, hijacked,
From social troll jerks who sell love that’s untrue,
Or dating sites selling assets, falsely packed.

You might not even know that you’re being sold,
Or maybe you do, and the buyer gets trolled:
Pick a twenty something, she’s forty years old,
The package is damaged, and inside there’s mold.

I wonder how you would feel if you saw you,
Your image tossed carelessly in, like salad,
In whatever dressing… Would it make you bleu?
Or pleased, or excited, or possibly mad?

I’ve wed; I’m sorry, but those images pale,
Compared to the beauty who’s waiting at home,
Pretty as they are, I’m afraid the ads fail
To entrap this heart, I’ve reasons not to roam.