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Bearing the Burden of Judgment

The scroll was sweet upon my tongue, Then heavy with the truth inside. I see the wheels of living fire, The glory moving east in light. They ask me, “Is the city safe?” I see what eyes were never meant— The Lord says, “Stand and speak it clear, You are My voice where I am sent.” Though they bind you and turn away, You will speak when silence falls. The weight of watchmen on the wall, Hands are clean or stained by fear. The city stands—but dust is named, The temple warned of coming fire. When the voice of God says, “Go,” You go. I saw their idols in the dark, I saw the court grow cold and bare. They said, “This vision cannot be,” But truth still burns the air. The wings arose, the glory stirred, The eastward path was shown to me. The weight of watchmen on the wall, Hands are clean or stained by fear. The city stands—but dust is named, The temple warned of coming fire. When the voice of God says, “Go,” You go. Can these dry bones live again? You know, Lord… You know. Breath will come from four wide winds, And they will rise and go— Not by sword, Not by might, But by breath, By light. They say the walls still touch the sky, But I have seen what’s on its way… The gate that faces east still waits— For Him to come and stay. The Lord is there. The Name is there.