Creed will breed from seed, a good deed to heed;
But greed like ****, feeds as blended needs bleed,
Till hope elopes in lopes for naught to cope
And gropes on worn tightrope whence doubts still mope.

Would faith debate with fate 'fore night's too late,
Or should this date wait and postpone her bait?
God with His words became creations' Lord;
While Moses with rod, as David with sword...

Promises unforeseen, things I've not seen!
Unbelief, unseen; the one sin to win;
Yet these I believe and live to receive,
From Spirit that gives; whom I mustn't grieve.

Faith I hinged on substance of things hoped for;
Evidence of unseen or blur, naught more.