We warn them, but they do not listen.
We pray for them, that they may be free.
We cry to those who grope in darkness.
We show them what is life, they slay us.
A call to live, a call to die
Makes evil ones take flight.
A call to weep, a call to laugh
Reflects God’s holy light.
We shall serve Him, our Adonai,
The Maker of all things,
While those who hide their rotting hearts
Deny the King of Kings.
The Lord declares, the saints repeat
Of grace that sets man free.
And one by one they come to Him,
These blind who now can see.
At last! Our Maker who reigns on high
Who brings the wandering children home
Calls out to us, bearers of His name
And declares to us eternal joy!
This poem is a puzzle, but not as obscure as one or two of my others.
I can't remember why I chose this meter and rhyme scheme.