SHORT STORY TO ZERUBABEL

Not by power
Not by might
But by my Spirit
Saith the Lord of hosts
Oh to thee ZERUBABEL

At eve' prime;
At the pace to thy dream
Woke thee to limelight, Zerubal
Wimpy torrent to thy taste, tornado
Know this and get thee gracious peace

Thine hands started it
Will finish it so grandeur
Command the mountains to act
To the obedience of thine calls
To harken! Make up for the calls

Who are thou, Oh mountain
You'll shiver and echo on roll
Tell of the story; a riddle so hard
How on Zerubal's call, you melt
As thine foot; eroded of idea bent

Knowest thou not whost it be
As the peak kept rolling down
The contour changed the map
And shifted changing its status quo
No longer will you be called a mount!

As the mountain crackdown
To a level before thy feet
So the great fall to kiss thee
As woken thee from thy slumber
Oh Zerubal, on a feat; great and tender

The headstone shall cry out
Those on its pride shall marvel
As the corner stone shall come,
From its hiding, it shall burst forth
Singing grace Oh divine grace unto it