I saw the form of God,
And yet I did not die.
His holy throne I saw,
I heard the seraphs’ cry.
I ate within His halls,
And joined in psalms of praise.
But when to priesthood called,
My ego was not razed.
Should I then not have known,
The horror of my crime?
Who saw Jehovah’s throne,
Maker of space and time?
Presumption was my fault,
Rebellion, treason, too.
My fire I exalt,
By fire I’m consumed.
My punishment deserved,
All just the Father is,
For all death is reserved,
Who do not learn from this!
The terror of God’s wrath,
Is no complacent thing.
Reserved – oh! dreadful last –
The Judgments of the King.
Then let my smoking corpse,
Impress upon your mind,
How sacred are God’s courts,
Sin’s gravity reminds.
Can anyone then live?
Himself He judged for sin,
The grace but God can give,
To birth new life within.
Then mourn me if you must,
But this keep crystal clear:
Jehovah God is just,
Obey in holy fear,
With terror of your sin,
And humble sacrifice,
His favor none can win,
Be overwhelmed in Christ!
Sermon Poems 