Does not heaven weep when a soul denies,
Salvation’s grace beneath eternal skies,
And hoists instead a banner stained with sin,
A rebel heart where light could once begin.

A portal splits the sky, a summons grand,
A throne ascends in jasper’s blazing green,
Carnelian flames, a crown of light expand,
An emerald bow, resplendent, pure, serene.
The elders, robed in white, with scepters gleam,
Cast golden crowns before His sovereign might,
Four creatures, vast, with wings of starlight stream,
Roar “Holy, holy,” shaking realms of night.
A boundless sea of glass, like diamonds forged,
Mirrors the bolts that leap from glory’s seat,
Thunder resounds, a chorus unsubmerged,
To Him enthroned, where time and power meet.
All creation bows, their anthems soar unbound,
Christ Jesus reigns, exalted and acclaimed.

The world exalts the brash and bold,
Yet God uplifts the meek, we’re told.
His grace shines through a faithful heart,
Four lines proclaim His loving part.

To turn from truth the heart sets out its claim,
A willful step beyond the sacred line,
Where Scripture’s voice, though clear, they deem too fine,
And cast aside its wisdom for their aim.
The soul, unyoked, pursues a fleeting flame,
Its pride a torch to burn what once held sign,
Rejecting law where love and light align,
To chase a shadow clad in freedom’s name.
Yet still the page endures, its ink unbowed,
A call to turn from paths that twist and rend;
For though the will may spurn what God has sown,
His mercy waits where rebels once avowed.
Thus rebels choose: to fall or to repent,
Defy His grace or seek the soul’s ascent.