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This poem proclaims the truth about the three heavens; and the truth about God in heaven; and the truth of the Gospel, and the reason why God needed Jesus to die on the cross for mankind.

The Heavenly Message

Img_0071by Richard Paulson 07 Apr 2020

The moon is not as far as we are told;
The universe is not so very old.
The stars are not suns; – to earth shall they fall.
Those shining, daily circling spheres are small,
And children to the sun and moon. The sun,
Which like them, daily round the earth does run.
The moon, a little slower round earth goes
Every day, and the very same size shows
Herself to be, with her husband, the sun.
For he, which tells us when the day is done,
Is also smaller than earth, and quite near;
For it’s dark when he hides behind earth’s sphere.
And only then does the moon shine, clear-bright,
Proving thereby that it has its own light.
One can see its light slowly revolving.
One hundred and eighty degrees shining
Always, and always it is going round;
Like a clock ticking, but without a sound.
The sun is higher than the moon, and yet
Is seen as the same size; for they are set
Together in the sky, and they are far, –
But not as imagined. And every star
Fixed above them, is somewhat higher still, –
At the same height; for together they fill
Our vision above, going round about
The earth at the same time. But further out
No one can see, since there is nothing there.
No void of space, – no mysterious air;
No light; no fire; no gas, nor solid thing;
Nothing at all for our imagining.
And since these things be so, which our eyes see, –
A display of lights which God did decree
In the heavens, how then can the earth’s skies
Be so much more wide? How so vast in size?
For the stars which were made to be seen, count, –
Numbering in ‘thousands’ is their amount.
How can earth not to the heavens compare?
How can the heavens have much room to spare?
For the heavens only mean the earth’s sky;
And they’re not ‘heavens’ where the earth does lie.
Else the heavens would then not be ‘above’.
For the stars rotate as if they all love
The earth; for to it they are bound, for it
They are, – thus the skies have a ceiling lit.
The stars are not ‘far away’, but they’re high;
With sun and moon they make a deeper sky; –
Earth’s second heaven; where no atmosphere
Exists, and which ends where they do appear.
The fixed stars are the highest things that swim,
In the universe’s outermost rim.
Waters ‘above the heavens’ turning round
From east to west, are furthest from the ground,
And swirling, make the sun and moon’s motion,
As if they were like ships on an ocean.
So moved they are by surrounding forces,
And so they run daily on their courses.
The stars themselves are in the waters flow,
And hence they twinkle, – with flickering, glow.
But the ‘wandering stars’ that are below,
Are free to move whichever way they go.
Beneath these ‘planets’ is the atmosphere;
Herein the clouds form, where the LORD is near.
The LORD who is God, he rides upon clouds,
And like a veil, they, his Spirit enshrouds.
This first heaven is for his chariot;
Through its thick, dark mist, he breaks the quiet.
He ‘walks on the wings of the wind’, – he whirls
About the world beneath the sparkling pearls.
The lightnings are the thunders of his voice;
Which, though they may hurt or kill, I rejoice.
The ‘meek in heart’ God, is yet a lion,
And he roars from the north pole, – from Sion.
He sends forth his command from there above, –
In the north celestial pole dwells sweet love.
There is the hope of hearts, – Jerusalem.
Like a dream; like an untouchable gem,
Its immaterial matter is ablaze.
Gold palaces burn in endless amaze.
God does nothing except in his wisdom,
In love, in chastening, for his kingdom;
And he burns up the wicked with arrows.
Flames from his mouth, and bright light, he bellows.
For he is the mighty LORD of thunder,
The true God, with Jesus, Son of wonder.
He casts stones from heaven as he pleases,
And with his hand, a lightning sword seizes.
Angels, chariots and horses of fire,
He wields in his will to fulfill desire.
‘Swifter than eagles’, swift as the whirlwind,
Chariots and horses fly and exscind
The wicked. He casts a glittering spear,
And ball lightning, in mystery, floats near.
His anger and rebuke are flames of fire;
Yet born of music softer than a lyre.
His Spirit is love, softer than the sea;
Yet from waves tempest tossed, the wicked flee.
Wrath is as the wind on a sea of calm.
Love, deadly, but at heart a healing balm.
In the first heaven of clouds, God does roam;
Yet the north celestial pole is his home.
To Jerusalem, the pure in spirit
Go, and there with the King of kings they sit; –
In his bosom dwelling, and therein lit,
Shining like the sun; and as golden writ
In his shining eyes, speak eternal love, –
Utter words in the sweetness of the Dove.
The LORD’S children, in their childlikeness, gleam,
As if they were his deep, celestial dream.
But better than any phantom image,
They ever make the smiles of his visage.
Their joy is not to be pleased, but to please.
Thus, Lord Jesus died for them to appease
The wrath of God; which they did not deserve.
For unknowingly, they did Satan serve.
For though their flesh sinned, their spirit did not.
Thus, for God, to distinguish the bad lot
From the good, and not in rage against sin
Commit injustice, Jesus died; and in
Him we died as perfectly resisting
Sin; for his flesh was the representing
Of us as perfectly obedient;
For that righteousness was our true intent.
For Satan made our white appear as black,
But Jesus took that sin, and changed it back.
Bearing our sin meant interpreting it
As it really is, – as righteousness lit
Up in God; – the bright Sun of righteousness
Showing us to God as pure in whiteness,
Through his own spotless, obedient act.
For his death showed our innocence as fact
In the heart of God, – to his emotion;
To still him, – to calm the enraged ocean; –
That God who is love, – a fiery Spirit,
Would not unjustly send into the pit
His own children, who were entangled in
With their flesh, the wicked doers own sin; –
That there might be a true separation
In the heart of God, through the elation
Of seeing in Jesus his own children,
As spotless as he, and as distinct then
As he is from the wicked. For Jesus,
The offering for his children, pleases
The heart of God in a perfect manner;
And thus Christ’s cross is our only banner.
Behold the pain that made crimson sin, white,
That interpreted darkness as pure light.
‘Behold the pain’, the banner does declare;
And into this banner of Christ’s cross, stare.
Gaze, till sin is stripped naked, and made fair;
Till you see yourself as righteousness there.