Below is a poem that I wrote for the 4th of July almost exactly four years ago. I had been a bit angered a few weeks prior to Independence Day by some people who insisted that America’s greatness was due to simply courage alone, or bravery, or strength alone. I thought how nearly every country under the sun has claimed to be valiant and strong, and how were we any different? Were we just lucky?

What follows below is a poem of our country’s independence from a Christian perspective, and secondly, how we have sadly fallen away from our roots.

Independence Day (by Eric Meier)

I walked through the land, both fruitful and free,
And asked in my heart, “how came this lib’rty?”
Then said the Great King - and who will hear it?
“Not might, nor power, but by My Spirit.”

“But what of our strength?” before Him I said,
And visions of valor, danced in my head.
“Nay My son, just look to the heathen,”
“For all will defend, to each in his season.”

A search then was made,
And all creatures bade,
Whomever would come,
To find now the sum.

“My life for my cubs,” growled a great bear,
And all they agreed, through war and through wear.
And so it was found, from greatest to least,
A strength for the fight, from man down to beast.

I walked through the land, both fruitful and free,
Again in my heart, “how came this lib’rty?”
“Oh when will you see! - when will you hear it?”
“Not might, nor power, but by My Spirit.”

Of beasts most base,
Our demise to haste,
Had His Spirit not flown,
Had His trumpet not blown.

Had He not seen, from His judgment seat,
Our brave bodies broken: to ravens for meat.
And where had we been, this ‘perilous fight?’
Our blood and our bones, to dogs for delight.

As salt without savor,
As men without favor.
Yet, He wrought with His hand,
Said, “My counsel shall stand.”

Before Him we cried, from doors without locks,
Foes gathered outside, the battle now knocks.
Straightway He heard us, His words He did keep,
“I will not delay, no longer to sleep.”

His anger did seethe,
His sword to unsheathe,
He grinned wide His teeth,
Time full for His heat.

He bit with lion’s cheek,
And tore with eagle’s beak.
His arrows He did spend,
Their armies He did rend.
Upheld our setting sun,
Till His vict’ry we won.

A lesson we learn, taught by descendants,
A warning we hear, of our independence.
Vigilant in keeping, a garden so royal,
For seldom are ceasing, the serpents to spoil.

I saw among living, many were dead,
The land of the free, held captive with lead.
As strongholds of sin, heaped loss upon loss,
Yet none gave regard, our vict’ry the Cross.

Our silver to tin,
Store more and more sin.
Gold into rust,
In riches we trust.

I walked through the heavens, both fruitful and free,
And asked in my heart, “how came this lib’rty?”
“Oh when will you see! - when will you hear it?”
“Not might, nor power, but by My Spirit.”

To meet our Maker,
Our souls to anchor,
Heart’s cleansing soap,
To Jesus our hope.

 Here’s a poem I wrote a couple years back. I originally was going to write it for Christmas, but I didn’t finish it in time, and the subject matter actually fit in more with Easter than Christmas anyway, so it seemed more appropriate to call it an “Easter poem” than anything else.

So, here it is:

SonShine

I. Creation

Man in God’s image, the Serpent made haste,
Newly-formed glory, the darkness - it raced.
A blackness that binds, twisting hay of rope,
Yet God’s light unwinds, sunshine ray of hope.

In coldness and sin, glazed over and iced,
We troubled had been, by dragonous geist.
Of stings none compare, no adder nor asp,
His venoms ensnare, and desperately rasp.

Yet God soon then spake,
While devils did quake,
Of Whom He would make,
To come for our sake.

II. Incarnation

Hope of all nations, in manger did lie,
God’s Sunrise made flesh: the Dayspring from High.
Soon all men would see, this bright heav’nly flare,
Illumined to be, God’s gift made aware.

‘Twas God in man’s flesh, the Serpent made haste,
Newly-formed glory, the darkness - it raced.
A blackness that binds, twisting hay of rope,
Yet God’s love unwinds, sunshine ray of hope.

So love became flesh, the world’s shining star,
More royal and blessed, than prince, king, or czar.
Yet He was the Lamb, His visage soon marred,
Spotless sheep’s figure, soon mangled and scarred.

III. Crucifixion

To Calv’ry He tread,
To die in our stead.
He dripped and He bled,
That tree now stained red.
From Love’s eyes ‘twas said,
“My flesh are you fed…”
Then gave up the ghost,
Fell lifeless and dead.

A crime of all crimes, though none comprehend,
Christ sealed down below, soon upward ascend.
The Dayspring in flesh, God made His Sunrise,
Triumphant o’er death, God made His Son rise.

IV. Glory

Man in Christ’s image, the Serpent laid waste,
Newly-formed glory, the darkness - outpaced.
A blackness that binds, twisting hay of rope,
Yet God’s Son unwinds, sunshine ray of hope.

Unlocking sin’s toll,
A crimson keyhole,
The blood of our King,
To Jesus we cling.

Here is a short little poem I wrote back in 2004 about salvation:

Heart of sin, without measure,
Thirst within, for secret treasure,
Cold and numb, life’s darkest plea:
“Jesus come, abide in me!”