by thadd presley
11/13/2006 / Poetry
This is my brother
He does not live with me anymore
He lives with my Father
He went to church one sunday
and told them that they had turned his Father's house
Into a den of thieves
He got capital punishment
They put him to death
Three days later He arose
He visited his brothers and sisters
My Father sent Him to be with His family
He can not be recognized by the enemy
He will come in different forms
Rich, poor, old and young
But you will know him by his voice
And if you don't know Him, call Him
For, He knows your voice.
Until our brother comes back, we will be comforted.
Written by: Ted Presley
Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com
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