You will need to make some minor adjustments and be flexible to get through the obstacles. Doug Addison
Seek Me While I May Be Found
NOV 23, 2019,
Bring these Words to a lost and dying world:
Men who refuse to seek My Word get caught in their own spirit. People have no purpose because they do not read My Word. They suffer needlessly, I AM only a prayer away. They only pray when they are in trouble then put Me away! I AM A HOLY GOD!!! NOT AN idol!!!
ANCIENT OF DAYS
The Harvest is Nigh
The Harvest is nigh going bad in the fields. The floods and the fires are destroying the yields.
Not only that, folks are running in fear from homes burning down, in the cold time of year. There are some heads standing above all the rest, strong and demanding, to pass the test.
When the angels arrive, sickles wielded, their presence made known, their value revealed. The wind and the rain, hail and snow, tornadoes and fire, may toss to and fro,
but these will still stand until cut by the Lord, the only way to go by the sword.
The Sword of The Lord is His Sacred Word, written in Blood and sent to save the world
from the fires of hell, from the demon’s snares; to bring us all Home and release us from cares.
We worry about money, we worry for our health, the world is at war, we war with ourselves. We turn ourselves to chaff blown about on the wind, not knowing we are the harvest waiting to be brought in. The workers are few and they must work swiftly,
Winter is here, storehouses bare. The wheat still standing will fill the Lord’s coffers,
the consuming fires will fill the tares.
Please! O children! Hear My cry! When the angels come, the reapers arrive! Be wheat not tares, be sheep not goats and please do not be caught unawares! It is happening now! The Final Harvest! A blood moon soon to rise! A third of the stars, in the blink of an eye, fall straight out of the sky! Do not be late to The Festival! The Celebration Feast!
You could be dining with your Father! Or out in the cold with the beast.
All Praise, Glory and Honor to my Father in Heaven through His Son, our Brother, Jesus Christ.
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, for giving us these poems and not just the pied piper of Hamelin.
By Ruth Johnson