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Woe Oracles

Category: /General/

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Woe to who builds a city,
Through the sweat and of His blood;
Finds it in iniquity,
Then is destroyed by a flood.

It’s not from the Lord of Host,
People labor for fire;
Nations weary as they boast,
About their true desire.

Filled with knowledge is the earth,
Of the glory of the Lord;
Water hiding of its worth,
The evidence is ignored.

Woe to who makes his neighbor,
Gets drunk pouring out his wrath;
The nakedness of labor,
Lying down upon your path.

You will have your fill of shame,
Of your uncircumcision;
Lieu of glory to proclaim.
You display your transgression.

The cup in the Lord’s right hand,
Will come around unto you;
Utter shame He will demand,
That your glory remains true.

Violence done will overwhelm,
Fearful by the destruction;
Since God was not at the helm,
Watching your reconstruction.

For violence on the land,
Of the cities dwell therein;
The blood of man on his hand,
All because of his own sin.

Copyright © 2025 Richard Newton Sherrer

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