Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Friday, December 14, 2012

Thankful Heart

Is Your All On The Altar?

You have longed for sweet peace,
And for faith to increase,
And have earnestly, fervently prayed;
But you cannot have rest,
Or be perfectly blest,
Until all on the altar is laid.
  • Refrain:
    Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
    Your heart does the Spirit control?
    You can only be blest,
    And have peace and sweet rest,
    As you yield Him your body and soul.

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 Parts of Psalm 9

I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works.
I will be glad and rejoice in thee: I will sing praise to thy name, O thou most High.

The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.
10 And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.
11 Sing praises to the Lord, which dwelleth in Zion: declare among the people his doings.

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 A Psalm about Self
by Joseph Bayley (one of my favorite poets-more on him later)

Lord save me
from myself
my settled self
unsettle me
bring to end of rope
but only
if you
are at the end.
My procrastinating self
that can so easy find
side roads
that are more interesting
even ones where
errands can be run.
Send me back
to
my comfort loving self
uncomfort me
pull the covers from me
 on cold night
that I may 
wake. Starve my body
that my soul may feast.
My proud self.
Give me grace to bend myself
And keep me bent
lest you should
one day
bend me to the breaking point.
My righteous self
show me sin
that lurks beneath
my conscious thought
motivating
that pushes me
to settling
comfort pride
and self
rationalizing self
that finds excuse
for what I do
and don't.
Save me from myself
Save me so that
self may die
and save me
from pride
that self is dead.

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A Psalm of Praise
by Joseph Bayley

Thank You God
that You see
armies march
a sparrow fall
hear
atom's blast
a baby's cry
smell
volcano's flow
a man's sweat
 feel
contour of mountains
a little lump
taste
ocean's salt
my tears.

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This fall has been an interesting time. I know "He's still working on me to make me what I otta be."
Thankful for a loving, patient, holy, merciful God who works on me while loving me. 
He has blessed me and given me salvation.

Monday, September 17, 2012

The Gods of the Copybook Headings--Rudyard Kipling

This is a poem I am having the kids memorize right now. Babe brought it to my attention and wanted the kids to put it to memory. The more I read it the more I like it. I am  going through line by line and  explaining the meaning and then having Gabriel and Annalina repeat back to me the meaning and they are definitely understanding it better now. How true is this poem of today's culture all over the world!! AMAZING!! Truly "every age and race" listen to those Gods of the Market Place promising glitter and gold & fanciful things. . . . . hmmm, or maybe listening to campaign slogans like "hope and change"!!! Unfortunately, we don't even have a candidate that truly focuses on Biblical truth. What society should be concentrating on are those that follow the wisdom of the centuries . . . like God's Word . . . those that make Biblical wisdom a part of their study and see it important to mark down in their copy books of wisdom from the past . . . the TRUTH that we know. We need to return to Truth and not the morally bankrupt feelgoodism.


The Gods of the Copybook Headings by Rudyard Kipling




AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!