Wave beaten, sea sodden,
Though her decks are windswept,
Rain pelted, well trodden,
Though her portals show cascades of judgement,
An oceanic turmoil,
A fearful dread sea,
All inside shall be,
Saved,
Though the ark herself takes the wrath of The lord,
Her Christ-like walls,
Take all he affords,
And though at times it seems,
She has sprung a leak,
And The boards on her deck and hull alike creak,
It is she who takes the pain and bears it on her prow,
And all inside are saved,
All inside are safe,
In their appointed place,
Little Noah,
And all the others,
While they are warm,
The Ark rides the storm,
And her pregnant hold gives birth on to dry land,
Two (or more) feet in the sand,
all inside shall be saved,
So send out your olive dove,
and watch the horizon my love,
For soon you will hear the flutter of white wings,
And hold the branch that it brings,
To the Ark,
And all inside who are saved.
Matthew J. Burt 24/01/06
This poem came as prophecy, (or rather this prophecy came as poetry) in relation to my then wife's pregnancy with our son who was to be called Noah. It was born from the words that came to me "All inside shall be saved". The prior pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage and she had had a lot of bleeding with our firstborn son too and it was happening again with Noah. It came as a word to me that Noah (we knew his name before he arrived) was safe in the Ark, as we are safe in Christ. I wrote it down in secret and showed her as testimony after his birth some 4 months later, but after this point my confidence wasn't shaken. I just knew he would be fine.
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