John Baptist. That voice.

 




He had the goods

From neighbourhood

Of dust and stream and locusts.

His mother knew and he did too

The promise was among us.

The sinners taken trembling, shaken

The Axe laid to the tree.

And scores got wet

Baptisms to get

In upheaval souls set free.

No none could quell

The fires of revival.

As numbers came to see.

The remnant’s survival.


the voice unbribed, unaltered, unmistakable.


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