The signatory
Am I that sign here, God’s last prophet
and do I carry the burden
that I through my self-conceit do not always know His ways
with somewhere where I do fit into His plan?
Still I wonder how I a sinful human
can ever be holy,
where mighty people execrate my people, and me
I sometimes see hatred in their eyes?
Let every thing that I write down
reach for pure truth, justice and being noble
making the unrest trivial, winning the struggle,
that every Afrikaner and I surprise our enemies:
May God Himself be in our midst,
He Himself be fighting the struggle with His saving Spirit.
[Ps. as salvation only comes from Him.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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