Praise and Poetry

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Praise and Worship 042012
By Arley Steinhour
[Day 13 of OMER 5772]

I sit here, praising, Dear Elohim,
This beautiful, we call today,
Pondering, The One, we esteem,
YOU, our ONE, Eternal Stay.

I ponder on your gathering,
Of me, my family, and friends,
In Perfect prayer, no blathering,
In that DAY, that never, Ends.

We won't say: 'Come, let's go up to learn,'
In heart, answers be always there,
Praise to you, like Menorah's bright burn,
Perfect Blessing, from your lip, everywhere.

Please Bless this day, and every Soul,
To your Will and Glory, without end,
May we gaze into your reflection bowl,
In your image, Perfect does depend.

As we strive to follow your pure word,
May Your Spirit, guide our heart,
Each time finding new guidance heard,
Expanding Wisdom in every part.

To You, we give the Glory,
To You, we give our Praise,
May we never return to Hoary,
Gaining through our mortal days.

AMEN

The only way to 'Cross the Sea,'
Is, bow the head, and bend the knee,
Alone, to offer praise and prayer,
When only You, and I are there.

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Dirt Rich Dollar Poor
By Arley Steinhour 042012

‘I am dirt rich, and dollar poor.’
That is why I protect my wealth,
I walk upon it doing daily chore,
Enjoying my good health.

Neighbors oft stop by to just say ‘Hey,’
It’s something like Heaven, in the Spring,
When growing crop, music does play,
Specially at night, when stars take wing.

The crop would sing the growing song,
The stars would sparkle as God hummed along.
Yes, we were wealthy, the rich were poor,
We lived each moment, they own a door.

So, in the hum drum of living strife,
Where tall buildings gouge God’s sky,
Married to the Earth is a special life,
Where we grow makings for Apple pie.

These words, above, my answer sure,
When City-folk ask, feeling sorry for me,
They only need come and take the tour,
To know the riches we have, for free.

AMEN

A photo can never full present,
What the farmers heart does see,
The heart sees something heaven sent,
A place where that heart is free.

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Beginning to END
By Arley Steinhour 042112
[Day 14 of OMER 01295772]

At the end of the Beginning,
Time begins to end,
A time where no one was winning,
Since, everyone had sinned.

Our Bible book did forecast,
Something, just like this,
Like birth of child, progressive *Blast,
God's Word, does never miss.

We started out, Perfect, Ideal,
With Adam made from the clay,
All things then could be a meal,
On each bright and *temperate day.

Six Thousand years now *History,
And what did we learn,
We Sinned away any Mystery,
Qualified, for Hell Fire, to Burn.

We skitter here, we skitter there,
Our knowledge does multiply,
Great Quaking of the earth, where,
Most people live, and die.

The Harvest now, ripe to *Fall,
Like Black Olives still in tree,
Slightest *wind releases all,
Crushing Judgment, soon to be.

Bema Flame burns away the dross,
On the Alter not made by man,
Some will Gain, Some suffer Loss,
From Choices made in God's Great Plan.

Two Thousand years ago, my friend,
God, sent His Word, to *Pay,
For every debt man cannot mend,
On Rugged Cross, that Fateful Day.

Those same Two Thousand, We,
The People, have broken every vow,
Made to Him, Head of 'Adamic Sea,'
Into grave, His payment plow.

This time soon opens Kingdom Gate,
*Birth of a brand-new World,
Allowing One Path, to re-instate,
Once Tribulation Hell is unfurled.

Repent to our King and Master,
Jesus waits for such a call,
Time too short to be 'forecaster,'
It's now 'Written, ON, the Wall.

AMEN

Most of mankind are that one who's drowning,
Only Jesus, life can Save,
As the Tribulation time be crowning,
For His, that time He'll Stave.

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Waking up Slow pt1 042112
By Arley Steinhour
[01295772 Day 14 of Omer]

Eternally Eternal, I shall be,
To hear all sound uttered or made,
To see all there is to see,
To know your love so Staid.

I long for Bride's Graduation,
when you call, your people Home,
Oh what a party and celebration,
To be yours, never more alone.

Worshiping you, anywhere, any way,
No night to darken the path,
Throughout that endless, eternal day
No sinfulness, to invoke your wrath.

Everything happy, everyone gay,
Beside you, on your golden path,
No obligations, plus freedom to pray
Grass and flowers, that musically laugh.

We can tickle the tree trunks,
Make them rustle with joy,
Lovingly warm, mighty hunks,
I plan to be, one happy boy.

I can only imagine the wonders I'll see,
Oh yes, I am one anxious boy,
To get Jacob to play on his ladder with me,
To stand on a mountain with a long yo-yo toy.

While there, we can yodel loud,
Never again, sad tears enter eye,
All our Praise, we offer you proud;
I won't forget, the joy I used to cry.

Praise, and thanksgiving words,
To everyone, friendly hello's,
No cutlery needed, especially swords,
Everyone are Sisters, and Fellows.
AMEN

Early wakeup pondering,
May not have rhyme or reason,
But prayer to God, though wandering,
Makes the Day; A Blessed Season.

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Guarded Memory
By Arley Steinhour 042212
[Day 15 of OMER 01-30-5772]

There was a young fellow,
Who walked in my shoes,
Folks thought he was yellow,
When he'd run from a bruise.

Bigger than most boys,
Of his youthful age,
He played with war toys,
But, was afraid of his rage.

Our National Guard,
Met every week,
They practiced hard,
Perfection to seek.

Learn the art of war,
How to kill, and to die,
Evil to fight, both near or far,
Trusting no need, to question why.

The Captain was pleasant,
We need give them space,
March slightly distant,
No weapons embrace.

Twelve year old children,
We were sort of taboo,
Learning all, without weapons,
Was all we could do.

When I was the right age,
Graduating from school,
God did change the page,
Navy electronics was cool.

There's a moral to this story,
How God, leads us through our life,
We've no need for to worry,
We march to Jesus' Drum and Fife.
AMEN

Sometimes we walk safely High and Dry,
Sometimes in fathomless water,
The smart ones turn to Jesus, and fly,
In the water, one can but sputter

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Wakeup Time at Door
By Arley Steinhour 042712
[Day 20 of Omer, Lyyar 5, 5772]

How many days, only You know,
The time I have left, to prepare,
To be counted worthy, here below,
When you foreclose Satan's share?

Here, you gave me poetry,
To carry my praise to you,
Serving you has set me free,
So free, I'm in this stew.

To heaven I send my mumblings,
on Angel wings that fill the sky,
Putting life into my mortal feelings,
So my words will please your eye.

Oh, Abah, God, bring Time to fruition,
May you say we served you true,
For fulfilling, our every mission,
Witnessing others, about loving you.

When Kingdom days are finished,
The words we long to Hear,
'Well done, good and faithful servant,'
Pure blessing in hearing, will fill our ear.

Prophecy, day by day, played out, day and night,
So many wars, and rumors, at the door,
Volcanoes erupting, what a sight,
Diverse places quaking, shakes the floor.

Last Days no longer 'if-by-chance,'
They are rapping at the door,
Like a long awaited final dance,
Soon, there be 'Time,' no more.

AMEN

Quaking and Shaking are hard to show present,
The Volcano is what you receive,
The night-time visibility is a warning present,
So non-believers might believe.

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My Name Is God, Remember Me?
(Day 21 of Omer, Lyyar 6, 5772)

Without a Praise, to share with you,
At least not written by my hand,
I offer this song, sung so true;
It need be heard throughout the Land.

Click Here: clicks.aweber.com/y/ct/?l=MyCNh&m...

The price is paid, for all our Sin,
If we will only, let Him In,
The time is soon, He waits no more,
Then He will lock His Temple Door.

Those who be saved, are Snatched Away,
Paul says, In Blink of Eye,
To before the Throne of God, that day,
Where He is, beyond this sky.

Yeee-Haaa!!! and AMEN!!

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First Thoughts 042912
By Arley Steinhour 042912
[Day 22 of Omer, Lyyar 7, 5772]

As I'm waking, from my sleep,
I pray dear Lord, my soul to keep;
Safe, and close, to your warm heart,
That I have, each day, a Godly start.

Through Blood of Son, my life enhance,
So I can better perform my chance,
To be your child, in thought, word, and deed,
As you provide all I'll ever need.

Bless this day, as I pass through,
This day you've made, for me and you;
May all this day be to your will,
And I have your blessing, to my fill,

Please bless the food, I eat each meal,
That my sick body, can better heal;
My witness, I pray, may bring cheer,
That those unsaved, will want to hear.

Bless me, guide me, and change me,
To the person you know I need be;
You are my God, and I am but 'clay,'
I look forward to being 'Called away.'

So, as I rise, and start this day,
With you in my heart, I can say,
I look forward to all things coming my way,
As you place what I need, upon my tray.

AMEN

What better way to start each and every day,
Than in comfortable position still in the 'hay,'
Looking to the sky, He, beyond, hears what we say,
Praises to God will place you, in His Arms, to stay.

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The time to act, is very short, to heal the blinded eyes,
Reading in the vocal, regains hearing of the ears,
May all who read, and take to heart, remove all Sinful lies,
So every soul Repenting, 'Lives' Eternal, without tears.

Hosanna, may He come for His Bride, Soon.

May the story not be true of anyone's Christian walk:

The Modernist Preacher
Composed by Pastor Oscar C. Eliason (Born: January 6, 1902 - Went home to Glory: March 1, 1985)

He was an ordained minister, but modern in his views.
He preached his twisted doctrines to people in the pews.
He would not hurt their feelings, whate’er the cost would be,
But for their smiles and friendship and compliments sought he.
His church was filled with wicked souls that should be saved from sin,
But never once he showed the way or tried a soul to win.

He preached about the lovely birds that twitter in the trees,
The babl’ing of the running brooks, the murm’ring of the seas.
He quoted fancy poetry that tickled list’ning ears
When sorrow came to some, he tried to laugh away their tears.
His smooth and slipp’ry sermons made the people slide to hell.
The harm he did by preaching goes beyond what we can tell.

He took our Holy Bible, and preached it full of holes,
The Virgin Birth, said he can’t be believed by honest souls,
The miracles of Jesus and the resurrection tale
For educated ones like us, today, cannot avail.
We’re living in an age, said he, when wisdom rules and reigns,
When man’s intelligence is great and superstition wanes.
He said, we’re all God’s children who live upon this earth,
No message of salvation, no need of second birth.

His coat was bought with money that he had wrongly gained,
For through his twisted sermons his wealth he had obtained.
He was just like the Roman soldiers that watched at Jesus’ grave,
For money in abundance, to them, the people gave;
It all was theirs by telling what was a sinful lie -
A resurrected Savior, they, too, were to deny.

The day at last had come for the minister to die,
When to his congregation, he had to say good-bye.
His form lay cold and lifeless, his ministry was past,
His tongue with all its poison was hushed and stilled at last.
His funeral was grand; he was lauded to the skies
They preached him into heaven where there are no good-byes.

Upon the lonely hill, underneath the shady trees,
His form was laid to rest in the whisp’ring of the breeze.
A tombstone was erected with words: “He is at rest,
He’s gone to heaven’s glories to live among the blest.”
His body now is lifeless, but Ah! His soul lives on,
He failed to enter in where they thought that he had gone.
The letters on the tombstone or that sermon some had heard,
Could not decide his destiny, ‘twas not the final word.
He still had God to deal with, the one who knows the heart;
While others entered heaven, he heard the word, “Depart.”

He pauses for a moment upon the brink of hell;
He stares into a depth where he evermore will dwell.
He hears the cries and groanings of souls he had misled,
He recognizes faces among the screaming dead.
He sees departed deacons whom he had highly praised.
Their fingers pointing at him as they their voices raised:
“You stood behind the pulpit, and lived in awful sin,
We took you for a saint, but a liar you have been.”

Accusing cries! He hears them: “Ah! You have been to blame,
You led us into darkness when you were seeking fame.
You preached your deadly doctrine, we thought you knew the way.
We fed you and we clothed you, we even raised your pay.
You’ve robbed us of a home where no tear-drops ever flow,
Where days are always fair and the heav’nly breezes blow.
Where living streams are flowing, and saints and Angels sing,
Where every one is happy, and Hallelujahs ring.
We’re in this place of torment, from which no soul returns;
We hear the cry of lost ones, we feel the sizzling burns;
Give us a drop of water, we’re tortured in this flame;
You failed to preach salvation to us through Jesus’ Name.”

The preacher turns in horror, he tries to leave the scene,
He knows the awful future for every soul unclean,
But there he meets the devil, whom he has served so well,
He feels the demon powers as they drag him into hell.
Throughout eternal ages, his groans, too, must be heard
He, too, must suffer torment—he failed to heed God’s Word.
He feels God’s wrath upon him, he hears the hot flames roar,
His doctrine now is different, he ridicules no more.

AMEN

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Looking Back at life
By Arley Steinhour 050512
(Inspired by an Eva Dimel poem)
(This 27th day of Omer, Lyyar 12, 5772)

Looking back, throughout my life,
There were times that I can see,
Surviving trials and weathering strife,
There was only God and me.

Through those nights, so very long,
Filled with worries, causing fear,
I remember, God was with me ,
Yes, He knew my every tear.

When my heart was broken,
From sorrow and pain in life,
God's Love was never a 'Token,'
Strength and healing, cured the strife.

No matter what I went through,
I never was alone,
Even when I thought Him untrue,
He was making me more His Own.

As time goes by, I always know,
Where my mortal life will lead,
Before His throne, all aglow,
Eternal Blessing, from Sin, I'm Freed.

He's seeking yet more family,
To be a part of His Family Tree,
Cleansed and Perfect Eternally,
Jesus, paid the Price, you See;

Looking back, at Seventy-three.

AMEN

So many ways to lose the path, to stumble, sometimes fall,
To raise the arms in supplication, He always hears our call,
Sometimes, His response seems not, the answer that we want,
It's always perfect, for our need, to drink at Eternal Fount.

Jesus is the 'Only Way,' by Grace, through Faith, in His holy Name.

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DISCIPLES VOICE
By Arley Steinhour 050712
(This 30th. Day of Omer, Lyyar 15, 5772)

I send you all my praising,
I offer all my love,
My heart is always hoping,
You, soon, call us Home Above.

But, while my mortal body,
On this sin filled earth abide,
May my days be never cloudy,
As I seek out those who hide.

It seems I have a mission,
Sharing love for you, on High,
Poetic bread, and fish, this season,
To lift those starving, before your eye.

To warm hearts, so they bend the knee,
I pray, more than a few,
Will see you there, offering Free,
Salvation, and More, for Knowing you.

I thank you for the time you give,
That I reach all the souls I can,
So that some may, Eternal Live,
As Family of 'Son of Man.'

Until you Snatch away the Bride,
Where Tribulation has no sway,
No one ever needs to hide,
While Praising, in Eternal Day.

I feel, Dear God, Time is a Mess,
We haven't much left to Cry,
Calling out, in the Wilderness,
To those, who should not Die.

May all, You Love, Disciple,
And Call Out, as they have voice,
Calling to the Spiritual cripple:
"YOU DO, still, HAVE the CHOICE."
AMEN

Disciples, All, need say these words: Luke 4:18 (KJV) "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised," (Curtain Call for 'Last Act'//as//)

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Green Grass Song
Poetry by Arley Steinhour 050812
Music by Libby L. Allen: 'Green Side of the Grass'
(This 31st day of Omer, Lyyar 16, 5772)

Thank you sister Libby, oh younger one than I,
Aging is a wonder, when it’s only in the eye.
So long as we’re on the Green Side, I still can’t cry,
I can drown my sorrow, with a slice of Apple Pie.
(With mortal anchor body, I can’t fly)

The beauty of the Brown side, is we have gone on home,
To that place of Special beauty, never more to roam,
The grass there is a wonder, it’s softer than mattress foam,
That portion that we leave behind, goes to the home of Gnome.
(With my Spirit body, now I can truly fly)

So, keep me on the Green Side, only till He comes for me,
As the Bride of Christ is leaving, for the world to see,
Departing to our Mansion, of Sin, and pain we're free,
Every soul becoming His, completes His Family Tree.
(Heaven grass is ever-green, and sings, as I fly by)
AMEN

Click here for the music, while we wait (Enjoy):
www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/6dbBfXCMbH4?rel=0

Like being at a Concert, this is but a Warm-Up scene, compared to what we will see, feel, smell, enjoy, after being welcomed Home, by God.

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Chicken Little or the Egg
By Arley Steinhour 050912
(Day 32 of Omer, Lyyar 17, 5772 (Day one of Flood [Gen 7:11]))

I ask you, what really came first,
Chicken Little, or the Egg,
Better, to be without a thirst,
Or squawking to lay an egg?

The egg is something oval,
Hard shell around the yolk,
No beak to speak things oral,
No legs to run or walk.

Eyes, if any, are inside,
Blind as they can be,
Until at hatch, opened wide,
At last, a world to see.

But, then, there's Chicken Little,
Having, feet, ears, eyes, and beak,
Searching-out each 'Jot and Tittle,'
Using beak, to squawk and speak.

He hears, he sees, he listens,
To everything, best he can,
Crying out, when something glistens,
Causing something to hit the 'Fan.'

The un-hatched eggs, that lay-about,
Only knows that he did err,
Take a vote to throw him out,
Because, Chicken Little wasn't sure.

They cannot see, and barely hear,
Just enough to know he's wrong,
Though Little's words were mostly clear,
To the Trash-Can, goes Little's song.

Chicken Little, true to his heart,
Continues with his song,
Recognizing error's part,
And admitting, when he's wrong.

But that just isn't good enough,
Eggs, un-hatched, soon roll away,
Shrugging off all that 'Little' stuff,
That might just ruin their day.

The Chicken Little Day, does come,
When the eggs tell him, 'Depart,'
Though his feathers, them did warm,
They've ignored that, from the start.

He walks away, dejected,
with a heart still filled with love,
The eggs, now cold, infected,
May suffer Wrath, from God, above.

Refusing to be hatchlings,
And learning how to fly,
Eggs are fed to Burning Lake
Satan salad, Hot and Dry.

Tell me brother and sister,
Chicken Little, or the egg,
Though off key, 'Little' had a song,
And the Egg had naught to beg.

God made Adam, from spit and clay,
He didn't start with embryo, in a shell,
Adam could hear, see, and squawk, First Day,
'Little' squawking, is better than Shell in Hell.

AMEN

Call me 'Chicken Little,' Or, 'Mister Worry-Wart,'
God soon sends His Wrath to earth, Man has earned it from the start.

Believers, all, will soon be gone, The 'Non's,' be 'Left Behind,'
Seven years is Time so long, When, No protection can one find.

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Harvest of the Bride
By Arley Steinhour 051412
(This 37th Day of Omer, Lyyar 22, 5772)

Father God, with all my might,
I come with broken heart, contrite,
The world's insane, and wants a fight,
No way to fix, until you set things right.

Insanity seems to rule the day,
Doing good has just gone away,
I wish I had much more to say,
How do you keep from going Gray?

I pray I've read the Bible right,
That you come, most any night,
I know I'll be a disheveled sight,
Unless the Moon's not shining bright.

I try to write a praise so true,
Words come out like worn out shoe,
Praise so bad, I'm feeling Blue,
But, even bad, I'm Praising you.

Shavuot, twelve days away,
Feast of harvest, Father does say,
Go get your Bride, and Snatch away,
Settle down, in new home stay.

The party starts on thirteenth day,
With Shabbat done, it's time to play,
The crop is in the barn to stay,
Start new generation, without delay.

Is this the year of Trumpet call,
Or Bridegroom giving shout to all,
He'll come with friends, so none do fall,
Lamp filled, wick trimmed, heart to enthrall.

I pray God says the Time is Right,
That you may come, that wondrous night,
For those a watching, wondrous sight,
Quarter Moon, and Stars, shining bright.
AMEN

In Robe of White, lamp lit bright, so You know who we are,
Come to Snatch your Bride away, unto a yonder Star.
We know you're near, and yet your far,
Until we're Home, and Yours we are.

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Little Story in Big Story
By Arley Steinhour 051512
(this 38th day of Omer, Lyyar 23, 5772)

In the very early days, Five thousand years, or so,
God tired of the 'goings on,' decided all of man must go,
Except this guy, named Noah, three Sons, and four Wives,
These eight people God felt 'Clean,' and could stay alive.

He spoke, one day, to Noah, said 'you'll have a hundred year,
Make an Arc of many Cubit, completed, when Rain comes near,
Put in the Arc, lots of food, and animals of every kind,
Male and Female, two by two, crowding, they won't mind.

Unclean, just two pair of each, clean take pairs, times seven,
They'll know when to come to you, as if they come to heaven.
Your sons will grow, and help you, with more done every year,
None of the others will listen, to your warnings they will sneer.'

The hundred years went by so fast, Noah thought it wouldn't be done,
One day God said, 'It will rain in Seven,' animals came on the run.
All on board, with no time to spare, the big door still a-gap,
As they winched on the rope, the people sneered at Noah's flap.

At last the door was shut, God then sealed them in,
So not a drop of danger could, hazard life within.
We know the rest of the story, a year inside the Arc,
When Noah dared open the door, on Ararat, Arc did park.

A thought that has long haunted me, is another story door,
"As in the days before the flood," for Matthew twenty-four,
Time then, rings like a bell, to these times, we live 'Our Way,'
Sinful man playing with Sin, much like in Noah's day.

Not many folk would argue, Traditional the teaching,
Thinking there is more to learn, might be really reaching.
Consider just the part of 'Saving,' Noah, and family,
A special story in the Main story, hinted at casually.

Mankind's about to enter, the Tribulation God calls 'Great,'
Wheat and Tare, God separates; something's missing from the plate;
That little story's missing, called the Rapture, nothing more,
This 'little story,' has support, in Matthew twenty-four.

With Noah, God made All Eight Safe from harm,
Then, drowned all those left behind, in great alarm,
One thought won't work, witnessing needs more,
I need to now call in, Matthew Twenty-Four.

Verses: thirty-seven ... "As in the days of Noah ...,"
thirty-eight: "... until the day that Noe entered ...,"
Thirty-nine: "... took them all away ..." (all = everyone),
Forty and Forty-one: "... taken ..." and "... left ...,"
'Taken' = 'received to oneself,' 'left' = 'forsaken.'

I insert that five liner, without a rhyme to fit,
Just so everyone can see, Pretrib answer must be it,
God takes away those of His own, to a safer place,
As He did, with Jonah, and Lot, before Wrath filled His face.

I pray we all see the little-story, before we take too long,
So we can all be Reborn, in Jesus, and sing Salvation song.
I hope I haven't made you mad, by adding to the Noah story,
If I did, then just throw this away, and know that I'm not sorry.

AMEN

As in the days of Noah, of Jonah, and of Lot,
Those God loves, are safe from harm,
The rest, in a burial plot.

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Roses at Your Feet
By Arley Steinhour 051612
(this 39th day of Omer, Lyyar 24, 5772)

We place all Prayer-Roses, at your feet,
Offer-up our hearts upon the thorn,
In the Blood of Jesus, counted wheat,
Family, the moment we're Reborn.

So many shrug their shoulders, walk away,
Rejecting you, be far more than a few,
Having too much fun to live Your way,
And, refuse to do the things you want us do.

Somehow you knew, exactly, Last-Day's Ending,
From the moment, you began to count,
No matter what we do, there is no bending,
To replace the need for Jesus' Saving Fount.

What's left to do is 'Tribulation Sorting,'
Wheat to Barn, and Tare unto the Flame,
To the Right and Left, we all be parting,
Only then, Tares know You're not a Game.

We don't exactly know the 'Day, or Hour,'
You gave us clues, for Season, to figure out,
'In divers places, see Earthquakes Mighty Power,
War and rumor of, in every shout.'

'Look up, and Pray, Redemption's at the door,'
Church Witness gone, as it flashes out of sight,
Jesus comes for Bride, and nothing more,
Leaves behind unsaved, who want to fight.

Each time we try to witness, to save your Life,
Another 'Rose' is place within our hand,
You have the choice to be the Saviors wife,
As One, we'd need a Mighty Wedding Band.

Once the 'Church' is lifted, to Eternal life,
Everyone will wonder where we went,
Be advised we're Savior's Holy Wife,
'Those saved after, inherit of the land.
AMEN

Treasure Saved for each Witness done,
No blood upon our head,
Our mortal days finished, the race is won,
Never-more a Thorny Bed.

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Home Choice
By Arley Steinhour 051712
(Day 40 of Omer, Lyyar 25, 5772)
Father God,
The day's are getting down to few,
The day's before we come to you;
Upon arrival, your 'Welcome Home,'
Questions answered when you said 'Come.'

We need not worry, what to do,
Mortal worry will then be through;
Much of Old-Self, Left behind,
Bema treasure is what we find.

Time to Praise, before God's Throne,
Perfect Prayer, as if each is alone;
Time to wander, and hear how grass sings,
or fly high with birds, as if having wings.

Will I, listen a moment, or maybe a year,
To flower singing, that tickles the ear,
Run quite fast, over hill and dale,
Or, swim in water, like sounding whale?

No muss, no fuss, a leisure pace,
Waist quite thin, no wrinkled face;
No beauty cream on face aglow,
Those passing by, everyone, we know.

Perfect length on full head of hair,
Teeth all perfect, in smile we share;
The benefits, go on and on,
No one here is Satan's pawn.

What glory we, each one, can own,
When Jesus says, 'You're not alone;'
To all who need the 'Redeemer of Sin,'
Repent your heart, and let Him in.

Jesus came to earth, to die,
To pay Sin-price, for you and I,
Choice, God gave us, each to make,
Choose wisely, please, for your soul's sake.
AMEN

Mansion yards look more than beautiful,
Creative patterns, and more colorful be,
Caring for self, flowers, free from tool,
Front Yard Beauty, far as eye can see.

[navyblue]

HOT TO GO
By Arley Steinhour 051712
(Day 40 of Omer, Lyyar 25, 5772)

What happens when the Church is gone,
And we leave many folks behind,
Will they open their eyes and moan,
'How could we have been so blind?'

They mostly know the end is near,
Heard on TV, or seen in the paper,
So much they want to do, they fear,
Need more time for Sin-filled caper.

Two thousand years, or somewhere near,
Devout sings out, 'That time is at the door,'
Instead of joy, they caused much fear,
Hell-Fire preaching, chilled unsaved to the core.

The wonders, God, to us will bring,
The marvels we'll behold,
Should make us want to dance and sing,
Hot to go, but never cold.

His Wisdom gives us all Eternity,
To See, to Ponder, and do,
Eternal goes to infinity,
There still will be new to pass through.

We all will have Angelic voice,
in a body that cannot tire,
Everyone has destination choice,
Those saying not, is but a liar.

The fun things that old Satan can sell,
Don't hold a candle to Yahweh, God Eternal,
The only eternal Satan has in his well,
Is Hell's Fire, not part of God's Blessings, Supernal.

Ponder, please, are you Right with the SON,
Have you accepted His Redeeming Grace,
The choice is yours, Joy with God's only One,
Or Torment, for just as long, with Satan in your face.
AMEN

The only 'HOT' you want to choose,
Is the Right Way to go to Heaven,
Jesus, the 'Only-Way, you can't lose,
Non-divisible, like His number, Seven.

[navyblue]

Call to the Unsaved
By Arley Steinhour 051812
(Day 41 of Omer, Lyyar 26, 5772)

When we're snatched, into the sky,
We'll learn real quick, how to fly,
Leaving earth, in Twinkle of eye,
Bride of Christ, no more, to die.

We're calling for folks, who might do their part,
When called by God, to Repent their heart,
Baptized in the Spirit, and a new Life start,
Join us on God's Holy-Rolling Cart.

Arc, or Cart, by any name,
It's part of God's Salvation Game,
Contrite Surrender to His Love,
Spend Eternity, in Heaven, Above.

As we board, in Twinkle of eye,
We lift away, into God's Sky,
Passing through the air, so blue,
To the Feast of Wedding, me and You.

For Seven days, or is it years,
We celebrate with Joyful Tears,
The last Tears that we'll ever shed,
From that time on, eyes never get red.

Pain, and suffering, gone away,
Never to return in Eternal Day,
The memory of, suffering and pain,
Falls from our heart, like warm spring rain.

Living in Sin, is worse than you think,
Destiny, corruption, where bodies stink,
Worms and Fire, Torment for all;
Rejection of God, with Satan you Fall.

The path is easy, to Heavenly Bliss,
Accept Redemption, and Jesus' Kiss,
The Kiss of Healing, Sin price gone,
Never again, will you put Sin on.

So, Ponder quick, and Ponder hard,
Little Time left, for Redemption card,
When Jesus comes, to Snatch His Bride,
Many 'Left Behind,' become Satan's Pride.

AMEN

Across the mountains, And over the dreary,
The call that trills, Brings Home the weary.
A heart that will, Though heavy with Sin,
Accepts Gods still, and cleansing within.

[navyblue]

Events of Omer Day Forty Three
By Arley Steinhour 051812
(Day 41 of Omer, Lyyar 26, 5772)

Every person on this earth,
Can be my family,
All they need is True-Rebirth,
In God's Family-Tree.

Rebirth, through, God's 'Only Son,'
Baptism in Jesus, and Holy Spirit,
Adopted, Inheritance, with His 'Only One,'
Satan can't touch it, or go near it.

This Sunday, may be special, though,
Events that fill the day,
Share them, is what I want to do,
In a poetic way:

The Twentieth day, of this Month, May,
In this year, Two Thousand, Twelve,
The Sun will Total eclipse, they say,
Along a line where few folks dwell.

On this day, Year Five-Seven-Two-Seven,
At the close of the 'Six-day War,'
Jerusalem and Mount, Redeemed for heaven;
At Wailing-Wall, Praying, Tears, and more.

Day Forty-three of Omer-Count,
Seven more to Pentecost/Shavuot,
Christ Ascended from Olivet-Mount,
Sin-Price Paid, for Sheep, and Goat.

To have the blessing, bought and paid,
All 'Acceptors' bypass Second Death,
Jesus, the Christ, at God's feet, laid,
The Redemption price, for our 'Last-breath.'

This also is a special day,
For my Family to ply,
The day my Grandson, Dalton can say,
'I Graduated, from Arapahoe High.'

This Sunday, then, is Special,
For those in my Family tree,
Blessed events, in Heaven, on Earth,
Family happy, especially me.

Enjoy, Sunday, all the events,
And add some for your tree,
Take some time with your knees bent,
Become a Member in God's Family.
AMEN

What you should see, looking back,
The Sun Eclipse, on Sunday,
Only those dead center of track,
Will see a Hula-Hoop, this way.