You will write of the watchman on the wall,
The ones that I've called.
I've raised up watchmen across the land
Those whose footsteps were not designed by self or man.
These men of the Spirit give a trumpet blast
On life's highways and by-ways where they can be heard,
So that the whole world will know
Of the oncoming judgments of the apocalyptic herd.
The trumpet blast is coming forth in many forms --
Radio, TV, newsletters, and some shepherds sound the
alarm. I have made the sound loud and plain this hour --
Only a deaf and deceived Christian would not hear this horn.
Satanic interruptions keep My people from hearing
Of coming cataclysmic events;
Eyes are fixated on cares and crumbling structures
That crumble and fall --
As the watchmen view from the wall.
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