This little piece to encourage especially those who aren’t morning people.
Mornings call to life and new beginnings,
Awakens in the heart those tenderest feelings;
Words fly up to God in gratitude,
The early hour sets the day’s whole mood.
—J. Randal Matheny
#poetry #morning #gratitude
The happy black of balanced books
Becomes the dark of crazed consumers,
The somber tone of untamed desire,
The rabid face of the race for Mammon.
This little item popped out during my journaling time today. You might find a tune for it.
In Christ is all my satisfaction,
To joy he holds the key;
He knows my heart’s true direction,
He knows and cares for me.
#poetry #joy #Christ
Divine gift, blessed fire of light and heat,
That pillar to lead and shield, with God nearby —
Maker of peace where Lord and people meet —
Idolatrous altar where sons pass through and die.
Faith and footwork for the Lord,
Contented smiles to take the News,
Fervent prayers for family growth,
For added workers in the field.
A tropical sun to try the wavering,
Jeers and rocks from passersby,
A song of joy from Jesus’ sowers,
With seeds of hope for heaven’s folk.
Amazed disciples mind their brethren,
Fraternal love to teach and learn
The gifts of life, the gates of glory —
Here reigns our God, the rousing Father.
I think this was written sometime around my birthday, last week. It appears not to have been posted anywhere, so here it is for the appreciation of those who love the art of poetry.
With love in the heart, we’re like the Lord:
His patience working powerfully in us,
His faith is ours, in the fullness of God,
His tender touch our gentle tool—
This Man of men, bringer of mercy.
#poetry #love #discipleship
Not everywhere is light eclipsed:
A few believe that God exists,
Fewer still do all his will,
But human sight is short and dull,
The moon of ignorance is total—
Nearly—Christians must be ever vocal
With news of glory—darkness reigns;
To expel it, only the voice of saints.
#poetry #eclipse #light
You cannot be saved—No merit
Of man redeems from sin, no good
Of self nor any you think to inherit—
Obey the Lord for cleansing blood.
#quatrains #poetry #salvation
If in this life I touch but one or two,
And see in heaven a soul that I had saved,
Let thanks be God’s that I, in faith, was true,
That for another the kingdom’s path was paved.
#quatrain #poetry #salvation
O Waster of Time! Your minutes, one by one,
silently slip away unnoticed. Hours
are thrown aside, and days and weeks are lost
in mists of unplanned life and vague objectives.
#poetry #time #quatrain
From fear, he builds his walls thick and high,
The child against the world, unloved, unheard,
The search abandoned for acceptance’ embrace,
Still aching to hear the approving parental word.
The Lord called Twelve—a precious few—
Much can he do with one or two;
I pray, obey, and bow the knee
In hopes he’ll do something with me.
#few #one #poetry
The world is full of long complaints—
Disciples, too, make loud lament
Against half-hearted, lukewarm saints—
What’s needed is that I repent.
#poetry #quatrain #repentance
Lord, just say the word, and healing
will come—all earthly things obey you—
Your faithful promise, not mere feeling,
drives us to plead—let mercy sway you.
More quatrains can be found here, at my new microblog (think private Twitter), and here, on my website.
He cannot bear correction—stiff-necked—
Inflexible—his back will break.
The humble bend before the Lord,
Inherit the earth, defeat the world.