The Kingdom, small as mustard seed at birth,
A narrow way of monumental worth,
Where first is last, and where the last is first,
A day of small beginnings.
Incognizant the power small but bold,
In persecution it will soon unfold,
The crucible ignites the might it holds,
The kingdom ever winning.
It stands unbound by boundaries set apart,
The seed can’t be extracted from a heart,
Or be extinguished once the fire starts,
Our Savior still defending.
No deeds can buy your entrance to this seed,
The good you do will hinder and impede,
Adoption by the King, our only need,
And by His grace ascending.
Jerusalem, you great and mighty state!
The prophets all to jest you relegate,
I wish you yet to enter heaven’s gate,
My blood in soil blending.