by Mark Walters

Created on: October 28, 2010   Last Updated: April 28, 2012

A scary treat for the eager trickster,
This is real, no flakey mixture.
When we lose our Christian mission,
And fail to live God’s benediction, 
Though we know how.
If you dare, read now.
But beware, there’s more to a scare,
Than Friday night fright fest fare

From God’s holy smoke-filled throne,
His long due wrath will now be shown.
Though once all men beheld His glory,

Now grace is done, the Gospel story.
Now for naught;
This farm’s been bought.
Buzzards circling will explore,
Unsaved graceless to the core.

From faceless sons a question begs,
Are those lost just nameless dregs?
As error by them now is known,
The answer from God’s throne,
Falls as deadly rain.
Given those in vain,
This poor flock not sought;
On them will be this terror fraught.

An angry wine poured out unmixed; 
Careless wounds a church inflicts.
Indifference costs a heavy price.
Hell’s mouth wide will now suffice.
No way to heal,
No way to re-seal.
A lack of God’s love overflows,
On lost souls in sin’s undertow.

The time of His return is here.
Already hearts are filled with fear.
If we fail to share God's vision,
Those left here die in derision.
This drama’s real,
Please hear my appeal.
Though these sights will someday be,
Today His blood can still set them free.

And one of the four beasts gave unto the seven angels seven golden vials full of the wrath of God,
who liveth for ever and ever. And the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God, and from his power;
and no man was able to enter into the temple,
till the seven plagues of the seven angels were fulfilled (Revelation 15:7,8)

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