There is a good moment someday,
God provides when as one we pray
When he suddenly pinches the devils,
That have entered bodies of saints.
Through the power of the anointing;
The time is now to do the casting
There in the heat of holy worship,
A shout gushes from the sheep.
And a person rolls to the ground.
A new voice booms ever so loud.
The time of delivering is now.
But the minister will in fear bow.
This is the moment to push,
The demons out in a rush,
But the deliverers are singing,
Quite clueless of the timing.
The victim cries for dear life,
Like a woman with no midwife.
Deliverance is somewhat like surf,
Surf when God provides the surf,
Waste not moments of manifestation,
Which may take ages to return.
Then you keep grumbling for ages
Of myriad problems of the saints
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem