In the City of Man

 

"Like god. . ." the serpent had said.

Not so with Abel and Cain.

Marked out, the guilty one fled,

Now that the faithful lay slain.

But the earth-cursed wanderer

Who should have known better

Soon built his palace on the plain,

Marked out his will and his plan:

Raised up the City of Man.

"We'll build," the rebels declared,

"So high, His judgment won't reach."

All pride imagined was dared,

Till God confounded their speech.

Still, the scattered wanderers

Who should have found wisdom

All built their bastions on the beach,

Someday the whole earth to span:

Their pride, the City of Man.

"Woe! Woe!" all nations will cry

When fallen Babylon burns.

No cache of cultures can buy

His grace when Jesus returns!

Now the wine-dulled wanderers

Who should have read Scripture

Will wake to ruin when they learn

Their pride makes way for the Lamb:

He who fells the City of Man.

O beware! The City of Man

Fights a battle it never can win.

Sleeper, wake! Your Vanity Fair

Is an apple with a broken skin.

We can't repair the damage we've done;

We must be born again. . .

Before the King takes His stand

Once again, in the City of Man.

Foe of the Faithful, friend of the Beast,

God even now makes ready His feast. . . 

But safe in a City "not made by hands. . ."

(Only the blood-bought citizen understands!)

MNA

c. 2000