Not my will, but the Lord's.
He made me your brother,
Plucked from the reeds,
Nile's jaws, I escaped.
Do not harden your heart.
Let the Lord's people go,
The land of worship awaits,
Promised to my ancestors.
Our rightful punishment served;
Slaves, no longer burdening stones.
Injustice will end now,
God is calling His children.
You will see the power of God,
Waver He will not from His stance.
Locusts, amphibians, fire, blood,
Have you not had enough?
Take eat of the perfect Lamb;
Mark its blood on your doorposts,
There will be no weeping tonight.
Smite passes over, mercy granted.
Our Lord and master has redeemed,
He delivers us from our sorrow.
We must make haste, a long journey;
The land flows with mild and honey.
Pillar of cloud comes like a finger,
Sweeping the currents aside.
Miracles prove His chosen seed,
Sing praise for our salvation.
Author Note: This poem is part two of a two-part story. I originally wrote this in creative writing seminar in my undergraduate studies at Grand View University.