Autumn Psalm
Oh death, where is your sting?
Oh grave, where is your victory?
Oh heavens, how can you not exalt the King?
Oh my soul, how can you not praise the Lord?
As autumn creeps slowly towards wintertime,
I stop and savor the scent of sweet decay
that lingers in the evening air
and can be seen in every browning leaf.
While my neighbors decry the injustices of the day
and fret about the coming icy seasons,
my own breath becomes a song of silent profession
of my love and devotion to a risen Lord.
For my Lord and Savior has conquered death;
my Master has closed the graveyard to my entrance.
The heavens cry tears of joyous jubilation
while my soul sings sweet hymns to Jesus.
©Copyright 2006 Joanne Tolles
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
- 1 Corinthian 15:55 – 58 KJV
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About Joanne
I am an English teacher, born-again Christian, ex-alcoholic, writer and poet, animal lover, happily married wife of Bill, grandmother to Drew and mother to Billy, Sue, Becca, and Jimmy Lee.
“I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.”
~ Anne Morrow Lindburgh
Oh, Sis, this is an absolutely wonderful, praiseful, glorious poem for our Father and His Christ. Indeed, that angel of death no longer can sting and he has no victory over the grave; all because our awesome Saviour defeated him so long ago for all who would embrace His Father and accept Him as God’s Son. Awesome is our Lord!
Now, I expect to see this in next Sabbath’s TSaS broadcast, because I know our members will be so inspired by your wonderfully scribed words on our Lord’s behalf.
Much love and hugs,
SisBon