Would you still love me:
If the sun prevents its light
And the moon its glow at night,
That all at once becomes gloomy?

Would you still love me:
If all things awry go
And nothing at all to show,
But a good token of misery?

Would you still love me:
If my arrow cannot kiss
Thy waiting bow's release,
To have a bout of ecstasy?

Would you still love me:
If medical reports say "cancer "
That has no surgical answer,
Or another form of infirmity?

Or would you only love me:
If my life wields a touch of Midas
With the revelry of Las Vegas--
All sublime, all sweet, all rosy?

Lubricating life with
pure love
doth remove
rust from the heart.

Forsaken: crestfallen, and he's been
Vacant, but bestirring himself now to
Once more go out on a limb to seek,
If haply he could a new find pronto,

A girl who'd like a medicine his heart
Mend and fill, with her rib, the space
In his side with her perfectly cast love,
Fitting unto him for the rest of his days.

Born a boy; now a man of men.
A son of Omu-Aran becoming the
Bishop of the world, who his mom
Nurtured and cultured by his granny.

A benign brook belittled yesterday
Has turned to a blessed flowing sea;
Small molehill becomes an Everest
In the sight of many a jeering enemy.

Bishop, God called to ascendancy
By favour: getting glory from grace.
To make his humble name legendary,
Heaven did set him apart for the race.

David Oyedepo, like David the king,
Is truly "a man after God's heart":
Of his goodness and love does he sing;
His passion he has from the very start.

Jesus Christ, the Bible and Faith alone
His breath and bread are; anointed
Books and tapes his ice cream cone.
In all circumstances he's oft elated.

Life of meaning isn't in number told,
But by deeds yonder the present:
All men were born; few do die
Great--for most live for the moment.

A diamond impact, like Papa's, will
For ever shine like stars in the sky,
Which the entire kingdom of the devil
Can never obscure its effulgence high.

Taking the roughs with
the smooths;
appreciating God oft.

Let no mouth your brain believe.
Sift from wheat
Every chaffed words with sound

Judgment. Praise you will receive
Surely of men,
But balance your head aground.

For blarney do quickly persuade,
Swaying
Swiftly a lady's heart off course,

By calling teffeta the best brocade,
Placing for ruin
A fool upon a regal, gammy horse.

Grace to live righteous,
Grace to love neighbour
And enemy and my cross
To bear: give me, O Saviour,

In a world where many people
Often use God's name to act evil.