Archive for ‘Poetry’

July 4, 2011

Statue of Liberty

In New York Harbor stands a lady, With a torch raised to the sky;
And all who see her know she stands for Liberty for you and me.

I’m so proud to be called an American, To be named with the brave and the free;
I will honor our flag and our trust in God, And the Statue of Liberty.

On lonely Golgotha stood a cross, With my Lord raised to the sky;
And all who kneel there live forever As all the saved can testify.

I’m so glad to be called a Christian, To be named with the ransomed and whole;
As the statue liberates the citizen, So the cross liberates the soul.

Oh the cross is my Statue of Liberty, It was there that my soul was set free;
Unashamed I’ll proclaim that a rugged cross Is my Statue of Liberty!

Words and Music by Neil Enloe

June 26, 2011

I Could Never Out Love the Lord

I COULD NEVER OUT LOVE THE LORD

1. There’ve been times when giving and loving brought pain,
And I promised I would never let it happen again,
But I found out that loving was well worth the risk
And that even in losing you win.

CHORUS:

I’m going to live the way He wants me to live,
I’m going to give until there’s just no more to give;
I’m going to love, love till there’s just no more love,
I could never, never out love the Lord.

2. He showed us that only thru dying we live,
And He gave when it seemed there was nothing to give;
He loved when loving brought heartache and loss,
He forgave from an old rugged cross.

CHORUS:

I’m going to live the way He wants me to live,
I’m going to give until there’s just no more to give;
I’m going to love, love till there’s just no more love,
I could never, never out love the Lord.

–W & M by William J. and Gloria Gaither

June 25, 2011

Tribute to the Bible

Billy Sunday’s Tribute to the Bible

Twenty-nine years ago, with the Holy Spirit as my guide, I entered the wonderful temple of Christianity. I entered at the portico of Genesis, walked down through the Old Testament art galleries where pictures of Noah, Abraham, Isaac Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Daniel are hung on the wall.

I passed into the music room of Psalms where the Spirit swept the keyboard of my nature until it seemed that every reed and pipe of God’s great organ responded to the tuneful harp of David, the sweet singer of Israel.

I entered the chamber of Ecclesiastes where the voice of the preacher was heard, and into the conservatory of Sharon where the Lily of the Valley’s sweet-scented spices filled and perfumed my life.

I entered into the business office of Proverbs, and then into the observatory room of the prophets where I saw telescopes of various sizes pointed to far off events, but all concentrated on the Bright and Morning Star which is the King of Kings.

I caught a vision of His glory from the standpoint of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, and passed into the Acts of the Apostles where the Holy Spirit was doing His work in the formation of the infant Church. Then into the correspondence room where sat Paul, Peter, James and John penning their epistles.

I stepped into the throne room of Revelation, where towered the glittering peaks, and caught a vision of the King sitting upon the throne in all His glory. And I cried, “All hail the power of Jesus’ name! Let angels prostrate fall! Bring forth the royal diadem and crown Him Lord of all!”

June 15, 2011

Memories

Oft I remember those whom I have known
In other days, to whom my heart was led
As by a magnet, and who are not dead,
But absent, and their memories overgrown
With other thoughts and troubles of my own,
As graves with grasses are, and at their head
The stone with moss and lichens so o’erspread,
Nothing is legible but the name alone.
And is it so with them?  After long years,
Do they remember me in the same way,
And is the memory pleasant as to me?
I fear to ask; yet wherefore are my fears?
Pleasures, like flowers, may wither and decay,
And yet the root perennial may be.

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

June 12, 2011

Gentle Shepherd

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

A Psalm of David

Gentle Shepherd

The LORD is my shepherd.

In a day when our ears are bombarded by beckoning voices and our world is polluted with sound,
Lord, let us hear you.

In a land dissected and muddled by mazes of roads and never-ending highways,
Lord, help us find your way.

In a world of easy promises, empty guarantees, and quit claim insurance policies,
give us the security of your hand, Lord Jesus.

At at time when we are confused by conflicting authorities that would tell us how to manage our marriages, our finances, and our children,
O Lord Jesus, show us your way.

As we walk the tight ropes of parenthood in these explosive days, training our little ones to live in a world for which there are no precedents,
Lord, we just need you.

In all things, Gentle Shepherd,
help us find the way.

By Gloria Gaither

June 1, 2011

Sonnet

Imitated from the Italian of Gaetana Passerini

IF in the field I meet a smiling flower,
Methinks it whispers, “God created me,
And I to Him devote my little hour,
In lonely sweetness and humility.”
If, where the forest’s darkest shadows lower,
A serpent quick and venomous I see,
It seems to say,–I too, extol the power
Of Him, who caused me, at his will, to be.”

The fountain purling, and the river strong,
The rocks, the trees, the mountains raise one song,
“Glory to God!” re-echoes in mine ear:
Faithless were I, in willful error blind,
Did I not find Him in all his creatures find,
His voice through heaven, and earth, and oceans hear.

By James Montgomery

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May 31, 2011

Psalm CVII (No. 1 & 2)

No. 1

THANK and praise Jehovah’s name
For his mercies, firm and sure,
For eternity the same
To eternity, endure
Let the ransom’d thus rejoice,
Gather’d out of every land,
As the people of his choice;
Pluck’d from the destroyer’s hand.

In the wilderness astray,
Hither, thither, while they roam,
Hungry, fainting by the way,
Far from refuge, shelter, home: —

Then unto the Lord they cry,
He inclines a gracious ear,
Sends deliverance from on high,
Rescues them from all their fear.

To a pleasant land He brings
Where the vine and olive grow,
Where from flowery hills the springs,
Through luxuriant valleys flow.

O that men would praise the Lord
For his goodness to their race;
For the wonders of his word,
And the riches of his grace!

 

No. 2

THEY that mourn in dungeon-gloom,
Bound in iron and despair,
Sentenced to a heavier doom
Than the pangs they suffer there; —

Foes and rebels once to God,
They disdain’d his high controul;
Now they feel his fiery rod
Striking terrors through their soul,

Wrung with agony they fall
To the dust, and gazing round,
Call for help; —in vain they call,
Help, nor hope, nor friend are found.

Then unto the Lord they cry,
He inclines a gracious ear,
Sends deliverance from on high,
Rescues them from all their fear.

He restores their forfeit-breath,
Breaks in twain their gates of brass;
From the bands and grasp of death,
Forth to liberty they pass.

O that men would praise the Lord,
For his goodness to their race;
For the wonders of his word,
And the riches of his grace!

Source: Songs of Zion, Imitations of Psalms by James Montgomery.

May 30, 2011

A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief

A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered; not a word he spake,
Just perishing for want of bread.
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again.
Mine was an angel’s portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
I ran and raised the suff’rer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipped and returned it running o’er;
I drank and never thirsted more.

’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof.
I heard his voice abroad and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
And laid him on my couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.

Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die.
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
But my free spirit cried, “I will!”

Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise.
The tokens in His hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name He named,
“Of Me thou hast not been ashamed.
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto Me.”

Words by James Montgomery, 1826. Music by George Coles (1792-1858)

May 17, 2011

Time is Too Slow for Those Who Wait

Time is
Too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love,
Time is eternity.

by Henry Van Dyke

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April 2, 2011

For the Living

IF you like a brother here,
Tell him so;
If you hold his friendship dear,
Let him know;
All the roses that you spread
On his bier when he is dead
Are not worth one kind word said
Years ago.

You can help a brother now
If you will
Smooth the furrows from his brow;
You can kill
The despair that’s in his heart
With a word, and ease the smart.
So why stand you now apart
Keeping still?

You can help a brother when
He is here;
He would hold your praises then
Very dear.
But absurdly still you stay
And withhold what you could say
That would cheer him on his way
For his bier.

What, I wonder, if the dead
Saw and heard
What is done and what is said
Afterward,
Would they utter in reply?
Would they smile and ask us why,
When the time to help was nigh,
No one stirred?

“Keep your roses for the living,”
They would say,
“Waste no time in praises giving
Us today;
Strew some living brother’s way so,
If you like another, say so,
For the thing that now you praise so
Is but clay.”

By Edgar Albert Guest