From The Watchtower

16th January 2018

I bow down and praise you O Lord,
Creator of the heavens and the earth.
You formed me in my mothers womb,
As clay in the potters hand,
I am fearfully and wonderfully made,
Created in your image,
You put the words in my mouth.

Open up you ancient doors,
That the King of Glory may come in,
Clothed in splendour as the sun,
A sceptre in His right hand,
And dressed for battle.

O Israel see your king,
For He treads the winepress of His anger,
Over the nations of the earth.
Hold fast, hold fast and know that He will come,
For one has set his heart on Jerusalem,
Most holy of places,
Lifting himself up,
He is an abomination and stench in the Lords nostrils.

Let the Holy Ones rise up,
And contend with the nations,
Those who come against the ancient city,
Ready your hearts O Israel,
Mothers hold your children close,
Run, but there is nowhere to run,
Flee to the hills but there is no time,
You will be overtaken.

Gather them in from the nations,
Even from the ends of the earth,
For they will see their Saviour,
Who redeems Israel forever.