My Master

October 2013

My Master

I know that I’m loved by a good God.

How many little ways He shows it!

He strengthens my heart and gives me faith

And constantly lovingly grows it.

He taps at my heart when I wander

And seeks to regain my full face.

He patiently, mercif’lly keeps me,

And when I come back, I meet grace.

He blesses my heart with such good things

And answers my prayers in such ways

That all I can do is just marvel!

And lift up my imperfect praise.

He says, “Deny self” and I fail Him.

He says, “Take your cross” and I quake.

He says, “Follow Me and I’ll give you

A life that you won’t have to fake.”

He knows me so well! How I see it!

How patient He’s been all these years!

He’s drawn me so long and so surely,

(‘Though oft’ my heart’s fight has brought tears).

Oh Lord, bring me back, draw me closer!

My Master You are, I’m Your slave.

I want to break out into fullness

And fruitfulness wave upon wave.

The Tree and the Chair

Sept. 27, 2013 

June 10 & 11, 2014

The Tree and the Chair

The pecan tree leaned at eighty degrees,

At a slightly startling tilt,

But it smiled and twinkled and said to me

In a soothing, country lilt,

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t fall over;

I’ve been here for many years.

I’ve spread the shade to the farmer’s aid

And I’ve given him much good cheer.”

The dear farmer cleared, and plowed, and toiled,               

And sowed the lot with seed,

And, once in a while, the deserving man

Took a rest ‘neath the sheltering tree.

The familiar chair with woven wire seat

And the woven wire back to match

Still rests there, rusting patiently

For another tired toiler to catch.

The chair and tree have stood for years

Side by side together—

It’ll be a shame when the friendship breaks

Through removal of one or other.

But for now, the two stand calmly there,

Watching each season’s own glee

Ready for use or happy at rest

Content whate’er their lot be.

Pastors

Sept. 15, 2013

Pastors

Uphold Thy pastors, LORD.

Ours stands there tall.

A spiritual giant I see,

Yet he feels small.

He bares his soul, LORD;

He bears the Truth.

He bears the weight of ministry

To aged and youth.

He has the force of hell against him.

At his right hand:

Prayer and the Sword,

The Word of God, by these doth stand.

He fights alone, LORD,

(To human eyes),

But I see that Thou

Doth not him despise.

Who can defeat Thy servants

When Thou with them stand?

LORD, let Thy Name be glorified

And help Thy man.

Thankfuls

August 27, 2013
(last stanza written on April 21, 2014)

Thankfuls
 

Thank the LORD for barefoot days;

For “little things” that make us praise;
For lengthy nights of sweet comfort;

For trails to take where knees hit dirt.

For one more smile to give us strength

In some strange way where we are weak;

For calm and peace when worries come

That Christ still has us even then.

For painful-sweet confessing sin;

And seeing hope as days begin;

For Scriptures dear, and new, and fresh

That draw our hearts and quite refresh.

For family, friends who know us well

And share with us things they should tell,

And chide us when we’re in the wrong

Or, used by God, provoke a song.

For letters, talks that sharpen hearts;

For shape-note Gospel sung in parts;

For prayers that young friends pray aloud;

Or spotting loved ones in a crowd.

For talks with pastors, godly men,

Holy teachers, near of kin;

For godliness seen on display;

For having time to sit and pray.

For Christians fighting "on the front"

In hostile places, who the brunt,

Of persecution, full in face,

Catching them, show love with grace.

For Christians chained in coal-black cell

Who know the LORD but cannot tell

If others in the outside world

Remember them and preach the Word.

For thoughts of Heaven’s promises;

Escape from sin’s compromises;

Joy in the LORD’S eternal life;

The hope of end of sin and strife.

My Lord, I thank Thee! When I do,

I find my heart behaves most true.

You are my Lord, and due all praise!

May gratefulness fill all my days.

……

Fruitful

                                                                   August 2013

Fruitful

Springtime’s dawn has clothed bare arms

In dreamy dress from town to farms.

On shady lane, by shallow pond,

A stand of maiden trees look on.

Ornamental Pear are they,

Shaped, sweet, shy, they curtsy-sway.

Alas! Their beauty only stays

Until the end of springtime days.

Of course, a dress of green is worn,

But never have they pear fruit borne.

I fear to be like this “faux-pear”

Having limbs that never bear,

Giving gardener never fruit,

Though he tend and dung the root.

Oh what care my Gardener’s given!

Even pruner’s mercy-driven!

Oh, LORD! let me fruitful be:

Fruit, much fruit, more fruit for Thee!
 

Food Fight

Note: The cadence changes with the second verse.  While I realize this is an incorrect thing to do in poetry, I decided not to try to modify it since it said basically what I was trying to say.

August 2013

Food Fight

“I will not eat that piece of bread!

I’ll not, I won’t!” inside I said.

“I will not eat that piece of cake.

I must not eat it!  I’ll not take

That cookie, piece of pie, or cheese.

I must not eat it!  Help me, please!

My diet has been out of whack

For far too long—must take it back!”

But it is very hard to do

The right things that we want to do.

And it is easier still yet

To do what’s wrong and quite forget,

(Or push aside), the consequence

Of letting down our health’s defense.

As soldiers of the Cross, we follow Christ

He calls us to give up ourselves, our lives.

We must not stress, obsess, over mere food,

(He’d have us gain the best, not just the good).

Yes, we must watch what we ingest, it’s true,

But giving all my thoughts to this is wrong to do.

My figure has preoccupied my mind too long;

When in debate about my weight I’m often wrong.

With exercise and proper food I might control

These issues that invade (distract) my soul.

Oh Father, I don’t know You!  Help me, please!

I’ve failed so often!  Bring me to my knees!

Oh that no sin would be within my heart!

I want to walk with You; show me my part.

How do I put away this awful thing?

I have made food an idol. Help, my King!

I Don’t Want to Wish For a Husband

                                                                     June 2, 2013

I Don’t Want to Wish For a Husband
 

I don’t want to wish for a husband,

For a husband’s not the thing,

That will make my life “just perfect.”

(Not by new name nor by ring.)

Whether married girl or single,

Whether servant girl or queen,

I have a job for Jesus

That’s better than some see.

By serving with contentment,

And loving where I’m at,

Maybe Christ my Lord will use me,

Single though I am.

I don’t want to wish for a husband,

For Christ is more to me

Than any mortal ever

Could even hope to be.

My Lord, consume and fill me

And make me all Thine own

Until, if ever, Thou wilt,

I wear the wedding gown.

I don’t want to wish for a husband,

But I do need to pray for him 

Someday I might be married

But my prayers must start ‘fore then.

So whether I do marry,

(Or whether I do not),

Through Christ I’ll bless “my husband”

As He brings him to thought.

Lord Christ, please make me holy.

A prayer-warrior make me,

For there is truly power

When Thine are on their knees.

I’m praying more for my husband,

Although I don’t know yet

If I will ever marry,

(Or if we might have met!).

My God can give contentment

And He can give me peace

And make me to be prayerful

As I my hopes release.

With tender hands and careful,

The Lord is working good

Making him into a husband

And me the wife I should.

My Desire

                                                                    April 15, 2013
             
                                                                        My Desire

What do my ears desire to hear from my enemies?

“LORD, we trust in Thee.”

What do my eyes desire to see?

The wicked before Thy Throne on bended knee.

How I desire to see it now!

Not before it’s too late!

LORD, let the wicked praise Thy Name,

Not show Thee only hate!

Guess What I Am

                                                                   March 29, 2013

Guess What I Am

Come sit with me,

This bench is free.

I stand alone,

Come play with me.

Unlock my secrets,

I’ll give you the keys.

It’s in black and white

As plain as can be:

Together we’ll

Make melodies.

My Sin

March 9, 2013

My Sin

My sin laid those stripes on Him.

My sin wove those thorns.

My sin beat and spit on Him,

Jeered and mocked in scorn.

My sin drove those nails in Him.

My sin weighed Him down.

My sin made me the sinner

For whom He laid by His crown. 

My sin made Him cry in anguish,

“My God, Thou hast left me so!”

My sin killed the LORD that day;

Because of my crimes He took woe.

My sin was nailed that day to the tree,

My sin in which I drowned.

Jesus somehow became sin for me

And buried my crimes in the ground.

My sin died, (through faith I believe),

But Jesus my LORD rose again!

I am this day counted as free

Because Jesus Christ took my sin!

How can I thank Him, this LORD of glory?

How can I praise Him enough?

My tongue can’t express the words I should say,

But give up my life now I must.

Though often I fail, I am scared, and so weak,

I have to press toward the goal:

Of giving myself to my Precious LORD Christ,

Not just small parts, but my whole.