A Lighthouse Prophetic Poem
I hear a cry from the streets,
From the bedsits and substandard housing.
I hear a cry from the misfits and the loners,
From the traumatised and victimised.
I hear a cry from the junkie and downtrodden,
From the battered and the bruised.
The cry began as a whisper,
Falling silent on a sleepy church.
The cry turned into an echo,
Reverberating through the walls of empty churches.
The cry gains strength,
Joining the cry of a myriad of angels.
Come Lord Jesus!,
Let thy kingdom come.
Come Lord Jesus!
Drive back the darkness.
I hear a reply from heaven,
From the throne room of the great King.
I hear a reply from heaven,
From the one whose hands were pierced.
I hear a reply from heaven,
From the wild goose of love.
Awake O Church!
Let the broken be blessed,
Awake O Church!
Swing wide the doors.

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