My Maker Liveth Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

MY MAKER LIVETH
Though the curtain may blab behind my back,
Though the window may mock my being,
Though the earth may undergo changes;
Who am I not to give you all the praise?
I am but nothing in your eyes, but you are mindful
Of me, my existence.

When am rejected by my kind,
You stood by me saying that thy
Handiwork would you not permit to rot.
Unto you my maker my soul please to exalt,
Unto you my God, do I render all my praises
My maker is alive because he made me,
And never would thy hand made spoil.

My creator is the God of widows,
My redeemer is the God of the oppressed,
My God is the God of fire and thunder
My maker and thy creator is alive for he
Would not make my feet stumble and fall.
Even though the earth undergo changes,
He is able to keep me and you.

Even though the oceans roar upon me,
He that guided the israelite shall keep me.
The lord of Lords is his name, the pride
Of Jacob is his name; the lord of the host
Is his name, the lily of the valley is his name.
Those who wait upon him shall be strong and do
Exploit, my God liveth and he is not dead.
My God is not dead, he is alive.