Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Missing in ch..ch


The families in their Sunday best
Are gathered here today
To offer praise to God above
And bow their heads to pray.

In honor of the Holy One
Sit quietly in their pews
To feel the touch of Jesus Christ
And know Him as I do. 

Little girls with pretty bows
Dressed up in frills and lace
Tiny lads in suits and ties
Are filled with His sweet grace. 

The sounds of music fill the room
The choir does softly sing
“Jesus loves me, this I know”
Oh hear those church bells ring.

The sacred songs of Sunday morn
Come drifting through the air
Voices echo in the breeze
A day, so ever fair. 

A touch of Sunday can be found
To make a poor soul, glad
The preacher, as he brings the word
To every mom and dad.

So as you’re driving by a C H_  _ C H
Not feeling up to par
You wonder what is missing here
Two simple words, U R.


Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Heavenly Kiss


You flew to me from beyond the clouds
Sent to soothe my troubled heart
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead 
In that moment my sadness blew away

Sent to soothe my troubled heart
You looked deep within my very soul
In that moment my sadness blew away
With your help I escaped the gray

You looked deep within my very soul
A breath of light into the darkness
With your help I escaped the gray
Your angel eyes looked into mine

A breath of light into the darkness
So much comfort yet no words spoken
Your angel eyes looked into mine
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory

So much comfort yet no words spoken
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory
You flew to me from beyond the clouds




~Anonymous
Image Credits: Esstera

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Song of the Mystic


I walk down the Valley of Silence --
Down the dim, voiceless valley -- alone!
And I hear not the fall of a footstep
Around me, save God's and my own;
And the hush of my heart is as holy
As hovers where angels have flown!

Long ago was I weary of voices
Whose music my heart could not win;
Long ago was I weary of noises
That fretted my soul with their din;
Long ago was I weary of places
Where I met but the human -- and sin.

I walked in the world with the worldly;
I craved what the world never gave;
And I said: "In the world each Ideal,
That shines like a star on life's wave,
Is wrecked on the shores of the Real.
And sleeps like a dream in a grave."

And still did I pine for the Perfect,
And still found the False with the True.
I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven,
But caught a mere glimpse of its Blue:
And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal
Veiled even that glimpse from my view.

And I toiled on, heart-tired, of the Human,
And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men,
Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar
And I heard a voice call me. Since then
I walk down the Valley of Silence
That lies far beyond mortal ken.

Do you ask what I found in the Valley?
'Tis my Trysting Place with the Divine.
And I fell at the feet of the Holy,
And above me a voice said: "Be mine."
And there arose from the depths of my spirit.
An echo -- "My heart shall be Thine."

Do you ask how I live in the Valley?
I weep -- and I dream -- and I pray.
But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops
That fall on the roses in May;
And my prayer, like a perfume from censers,
Ascendeth to God night and day.

In the hush of the Valley of Silence
I dream all the songs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim Valley,
Till each finds a word for a wing,
That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge,
A message of Peace they may bring.

But far on the deep there are billows
That never shall break on the beach;
And I have heard songs in the Silence
That never shall float into speech;
And I have had dreams in the Valley
Too lofty for language to reach.

And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley --
Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred!
And they wear holy veils on their faces,
Their footsteps can scarcely be heard;
They pass through the Valley like virgins,
Too pure for the touch of a word!

Do you ask me the place of the Valley,
Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care?
It lieth afar between mountains,
And God and His angels are there:
And one is the dark mount of Sorrow, 
And one the bright mountain of Prayer.



Credits - Father Abram J. Ryan

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Book-length Novel


Lord as I hold her in my arms
And kiss her tiny fingers
I wonder if anyone in all the world
Has ever been as happy as I am now!

She's like a tiny poem
Short but beautiful -
And several years from now
She'll be a story.

Lord, I am trusting You
To write the Plot.
Then at last she'll be
A book length novel
Translated in many languages.

I am confident of this, Lord
For You are both
Author and Publisher.




Credits: Ruth Calkin

Thursday, June 26, 2014

I am a Christian


When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not shouting “I’m clean livin’.”
I’m whispering “I was lost,
Now I’m found and forgiven.”

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I don’t speak of this with pride.
I’m confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not trying to be strong.
I’m professing that I’m weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not bragging of success.
I’m admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not holier than thou,
I’m just a simple sinner
Who received God’s good grace, somehow.”



Credits: Maya Angelou

Friday, June 6, 2014

Only One Life, Twill Soon Be Past


A poem by Charles T Studd (1860 - 1931)

“Two little lines I heard one day, 
Traveling along life’s busy way; 
Bringing conviction to my heart, 
And from my mind would not depart; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Soon will its fleeting hours be done; 
Then, in ‘that day’ my Lord to meet, 
And stand before His Judgement seat; 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, the still small voice, 
Gently pleads for a better choice 
Bidding me selfish aims to leave, 
And to God’s holy will to cleave; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, a few brief years, 
Each with its burdens, hopes, and fears; 
Each with its clays I must fulfill, 
living for self or in His will; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

When this bright world would tempt me sore, 
When Satan would a victory score; 
When self would seek to have its way, 
Then help me Lord with joy to say; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Give me Father, a purpose deep, 
In joy or sorrow Thy word to keep; 
Faithful and true what e’er the strife, 
Pleasing Thee in my daily life; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Oh let my love with fervor burn, 
And from the world now let me turn; 
Living for Thee, and Thee alone, 
Bringing Thee pleasure on Thy throne; 
Only one life, “twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Now let me say,”Thy will be done”; 
And when at last I’ll hear the call, 
I know I’ll say “twas worth it all”; 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. ”

— extra stanza —

Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. 
And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be, 
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee.”

Charles T Studd attended Eaton and Cambridge. He was a British cricketer and missionary who was confronted with the question, "What is all the fame and flattery worth ... when a man comes to face eternity?"


Saturday, April 26, 2014

The Road to Travel


The Road to Travel 
by Ellen Bailey

Which road will you travel my friend?
The road to Heaven is the one I recommend

The road to Hell is rife with destruction
But on it you will find no obstructions
The road to Heaven is straight and narrow
But it is a road which one must harrow

The road to Hell will entice you with seduction
It is easily found without any introduction
The road to Heaven must be painstakingly sought
It is a road over which many have fought

It's so easy to get on the wrong road
And burden yourself with a heavy load
You need something to guide you around the bends
As you travel these two roads with your fellowmen

There is a travel guide you can use
It was written for just me and you
The Holy Bible will help you plot our route
It is a book no traveler should be without.




Friday, April 25, 2014

Train


I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step

Around a pile of mountains,
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare

To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down the hill

And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop - docile and omnipotent -
At its own stable door.
~ Emily Dickinson

Am heading to NY in about an hour.
Good Day!

Thursday, April 24, 2014

In the Hands of God


Hands are organs for grasping or gripping. Humans have coined numerous phrases that convey several meanings for the use of hands - hands off, second hand, many hands make light work, out of hand, I've gotta hand it to you, change hands, etc.

Hands also convey the meaning of authority, power, control, protection, provision, healing, guidance, and comfort.

When we meet a dearly loved one, we immediately hold their hands. God's hands are The Best! Imagine holding on to God's Hands.

Job claimed to have been touched by God's hands in Job 19:21.

John said with confidence that we should be called Children of God in 1 John 3:1.

Dear Child of God, here is an advice for you:
Never fear... never falter... never faint!
You are in God's hands!


Our Times are in Thy Hand

Our times are in Thy hand;
  O God, we wish them there;
Our lives, our souls, our all, we leave
  Entirely to Thy care.

Our times are in Thy hand:
  Whatever they may be;
Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,
  As best may seem to Thee.

Our times are in Thy hand;
  Why should we doubt or fear?
A father’s hand will never cause
  His child a needless tear.

Our times are in Thy hand;
  Jesus, the Crucified,
Whose hand our many sins have pierced,
  Is now our guard and guide.

Our times are in Thy hand;
  We’ll always trust to Thee,
Till we possess the promised crown,
  And all Thy glory see.


I feel being carried in the hands of God - do you?




Monday, January 27, 2014

It depends whose hands it's in


A basketball in my hands is worth about $19
A basketball in Michael Jordan’s hands is
worth about $33 million
It depends whose hands it’s in

A baseball in my hands is worth about $6
A baseball in Mark McGuire’s hands is worth $19 million
It depends whose hands it’s in

A tennis racket is useless in my hands
A tennis racket in Pete Sampras’ hands
is a Wimbledon Championship
It depends whose hands it’s in

A rod in my hands will keep away a wild animal
A rod in Moses’ hands will part the mighty sea
It depends whose hands it’s in

A sling shot in my hands is a kid’s toy
A sling shot in David’s hand is a mighty weapon.
It depends whose hands it’s in

Two fish and 5 loaves of bread in my hands
is a couple of fish sandwiches.
Two fish and 5 loaves of bread in God’s
hands will feed thousands It depends whose hands it’s in

Nails in my hands might produce a birdhouse
Nails in Jesus Christ’s hands will produce
salvation for the entire world.
It depends whose hands it’s in

As you see now it depends whose hands it’s in.
So put your concerns, your worries, your fears,
your hopes, your dreams, your families and
your relationships in God’s hands because
It depends whose hands it’s in.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Children learn what they live with


A poem by Dorothy Nolte

If a child lives with criticism,
he learns to condemn.

If a child lives with hostility,
he learns to fight.

If a child lives with fear,
he learns to be apprehensive.

If a child lives with pity,
he learns to feel sorry for himself.

If a child lives with ridicule,
he learns to be shy.

If a child lives with jealousy,
he learns what envy is.

If a child lives with shame,
he learns to feel guilty.

If a child lives with encouragement,
he learns to be confident.

If a child lives with tolerance,
he learns to be patient.

If a child lives with praise,
he learns to be appreciative.

If a child lives with acceptance,
he learns to love.

If a child lives with approval,
he learns to like himself.

If a child lives with recognition,
he learns that it is good to have a goal.

If a child lives with sharing,
he learns about generosity.

If a child lives with honesty and fairness,
he learns what truth and justice are.

If a child lives with security,
he learns to have faith in himself and in those about him.

If a child lives with friendliness,
he learns that the world is a nice place in which to live.

If you live with serenity,
your child will live with peace of mind.

With what is your child living?



Credits: 100 ways to enhance self-concept in the classroom: A handbook for teachers and patents. 

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Night


A poem by Charles Churchill

A tutor once, more read in men than books,
A kind of crafty knowledge in his looks,
Demurely sly, with high preferment bless'd,
His favourite pupil in these words address'd:--
Wouldst thou, my son, be wise and virtuous deem'd;
By all mankind a prodigy esteem'd?
Be this thy rule; be what men prudent call;
Prudence, almighty Prudence, gives thee all.
Keep up appearances; there lies the test;
The world will give thee credit for the rest.
Outward be fair, however foul within;
Sin if thou wilt, but then in secret sin.
This maxim's into common favour grown,
Vice is no longer vice, unless 'tis known.
Virtue, indeed, may barefaced take the field;
But vice is virtue when 'tis well conceal'd.
Should raging passion drive thee to a whore,
Let Prudence lead thee to a postern door;
Stay out all night, but take especial care
That Prudence bring thee back to early prayer.
As one with watching and with study faint,
Reel in a drunkard, and reel out a saint.
With joy the youth this useful lesson heard,
And in his memory stored each precious word;


Credits: Poetrycat

Saturday, June 8, 2013

A Wayfaring Song


O who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.

And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day-
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.

With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journey's end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then? - Farewell, we shall meet again!


Credits: Henry van Dyke

Sunday, June 2, 2013

The Empowered Woman



The Empowered Woman, she moves through the world
with a sense of confidence and grace.
Her once reckless spirit now tempered by wisdom.
Quietly, yet firmly, she speaks her truth without doubt or  hesitation
and the life she leads is of her own creation.

She now understands what it means to live and let live.
How much to ask for herself and how much to give.
She has a strong, yet generous heart
and the inner beauty she emanates truly sets her apart.
Like the mythical Phoenix,
she has risen from the ashes and soared to a new plane of existence,
unfettered by the things that once that posed such resistance.

Her senses now heightened, she sees everything so clearly.
She hears the wind rustling through the trees;
beckoning her to live the dreams she holds so dearly.
She feels the softness of her hands
and muses at the strength that they possess.
Her needs and desires she has learned to express.
She has tasted the bitter and savored the sweet fruits of life,
overcome adversity and pushed past heartache and strife.

And the one thing she never understood,
she now knows to be true,
it all begins and ends with you.



Credits: Sonny Carroll

Sunday, May 26, 2013

A legacy



Friend of my many years!
When the great silence falls, at last, on me,
Let me not leave, to pain and sadden thee,
A memory of tears,

But pleasant thoughts alone.
Of one who was thy friendship's honored guest
And drank the wine of consolation pressed
From sorrows of thy own.

I leave with thee a sense
Of hands upheld and trials rendered less,
The unselfish joy which is to helpfulness
Its own great recompense.

The knowledge that from thine,
As from the garments of the Master, stole
Calmness and strength, the virtue which makes whole
And heals without a sign.

Yea more, the assurance strong
That love, which fails of perfect utterance here,
Lives on to fill the heavenly atmosphere
With its immortal song. 


Credits: John Greenleaf Whittier

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Carry On!




It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:

      Carry on! Carry on!
   There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You are glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You are muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
       Carry on, my son! Carry on!

And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
 
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Thing never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are weak.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but – you never tell.
      Carry on, old man! Carry on!

There are some who drift out in the desert of doubt
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labor with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.

      Carry on! Carry on!
   Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry!
      Carry on, my soul! Carry on!



Credits: Robert Service

Friday, May 17, 2013

The Sin of Omission


It isn't the thing you do, dear,
Its the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At setting of the sun.
The tender work forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.

The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother's way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
With troubles enough of your own.

Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find
They come in night and silence,
Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging,
And a chill has fallen on faith.

For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late:
And it isn't the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.



Credits: Margaret E. Sangster

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Count that day lost



If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard, 
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went 
Then you may count that day well spent.

But if, through all the livelong day,
You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay
If, through it all
You've nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost
Then count that day as worse than lost. 



Credits: George Eliot (1819 - 1880)

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Rebecca


Rebecca

I have a doll, Rebecca, 
She's quite a little care, 
I have to press her ribbons 
And comb her fluffy hair. 

I keep her clothes all mended, 
And wash her hands and face, 
And make her frocks and aprons, 
All trimmed in frills and lace. 

I have to cook her breakfast, 
And pet her when she's ill; 
And telephone the doctor 
When Rebecca has a chill. 

Rebecca doesn't like that, 
And says she's well and strong; 
And says she'll try--oh! very hard, 
To be good all day long. 

But when night comes, she's nodding; 
So into bed we creep 
And snuggle up together, 
And soon are fast asleep. 

I have no other dolly, 
For you can plainly see, 
In caring for Rebecca, 
I'm busy as can be!




Credits: Elenor Piatt

Monday, May 6, 2013

The Little Gentleman



Take your meal, my little man,
Always like a gentleman;
Wash your face and hands with care,
Change your shoes, and brush your hair.

Then so fresh and clean and neat,
Come and take your proper seats;
Do not loiter and be late,
Making other people wait.

Do not rudely point or touch;
Do not eat and drink too much,
Finish what you have, before
You even ask or send for more.

Never crumble or destroy
Food that others might enjoy;
Never spill your milk or tea,
Never rude or noisy be.

Never choose the dainties food,
Be content with what is good;
Seek in all things that you can
To be a little gentleman.


Credits: The Gentleman's Magazine