Continuing on from last week, Silver Sunday, we now move on to the final Advent Sunday:
From mighty Babylon of old
Through furnaces and statues gold
Endured a voice that prophesied
Great future empires’ fall and rise
And then a rock to dwarf them all
Arising from a land so small,
Its people cling to trembling hope
In more than just a horoscope.
The age is nigh, the world expects
A noble, mighty architect
Of change unique in history,
An end to Israel’s misery,
And soon That Day will come.
For more of my poetry, there are two of my collections available on Amazon:
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