Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2011 8:48:04 GMT -6
SON OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN
My mother, had you been where I Have been, you had not wept. The sky Hides in its farthest depths the place I glimpsed, but nothing can efface
The memory. From star to star I trace my way . . . So potent are A mother's tears! I felt them fall Into my heart; I heard a call,
A voice I could not disobey, Although I was but lifeless clay, An unforgotten voice, “Arise!” And straightway from the farthest skies
My spirit came, silent as dew; And so He gave me back to you. And Mother, now that it is done, I vow to be a faithful son,
But if sometimes at dusk I seem Distrait, 'tis only that I dream Of that once-seen and lovely land . . . I know that you will understand.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 28, 2011 8:42:12 GMT -6
RICH MAN AND LAZARUS
Now once there was a rich man who Went clothed in linen fine, And daily wore his purple robes To sumptuously dine.
And at his palace gates there lay A beggar full of sores; His only food the crumbs which were Swept out the palace doors.
Then both men died, and both men went Unto their last abode, And one man went to torment and One went to be with God.
Now there is nothing wrong in wealth, Nor good in poverty: But what one does with Christ the Lord Fixes one's destiny;
And so the final curtain falls, And this is why we see The rich man poor, the poor man rich Through all eternity.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2011 9:49:48 GMT -6
LYDIA
Seller of purple, Lydia. Dealer in beauty. All the day she Handled rich colors, delighting the eye And the senses of those who stopped there to see.
Dispenser of loveliness, Lydia. Purveyor of happiness till the day she Found all her rich purples grown faded and dull, For nothing, by contrast, was lovely as He.
Disciple of Jesus, Lydia. Walking the path that the Lord's feet had trod, Finding the beauty her spirit had craved Close to the heart of the dear Son of God.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2011 8:10:14 GMT -6
ON THE WAY TO GOLGOTHA
The gentle breeze caressed Him, The flowers bloomed fair and sweet, The grasses bent to treasure The imprint of His feet.
The trees stretched leafy branches, The little birds sang on, Praises to Him who loved them; But in the sky the sun
Covered its face with cloud-veils, Fearing what it would see, As man, His last creation, Led Him to Calvary!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2011 7:54:50 GMT -6
A LITTLE MAID
I am a little maid, but one of those Quite wise in ways of men, who somehow knows
The word to say to flick them on the raw, The downcast glance which seldom fails to draw
Their interest. It is sport. So here was this Great fisherman I knew was one of His
Disciples, (that strange Man who claims to be An uncrowned King, but He concerns not me).
But Peter came in hurriedly, and sat Before the fire, and glanced at me. At that
I said, “Why, you are one of them!” And he Denied it, but the others joined with me
Accusing him again and yet again, And he denied it thrice with oaths, and then
The c**k crowed. . . And last night I hardly slept, Thinking about how he went out and wept.
How strange to see a strong man so afraid As he before the tongue of little maid!
I scarce know why. Of course it flatters me, And yet it was a troubling sight to see.
Ah well, 'twas but a little thing, and so It matters not. No one will ever know.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 1, 2011 7:50:52 GMT -6
ZACCHAEUS
Zacchaeus was a little man, And so he climbed a tree, For One came down to Jericho Whom Zacchaeus wished to see.
Now no one liked this Zacchaeus, For he was rich and mean, And so he hid himself and hoped That he would not be seen.
Then Jesus Christ came passing by, And with Him half the town, And looking up, He spoke and said, “O Zacchaeus, come down.
This day I would abide with thee So make for Me a feast.” So Zacchaeus hasted joyfully And set out all his best,
His silver plates and goblets and His choicest foods and wines; Though people said disdainfully, “Behold with whom He dines!”
But Jesus Christ came here to save The little men and lost; The little, lost men, you and me, At oh, such dreadful cost!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2011 23:29:18 GMT -6
TRIUMPHAL ENTRY
Though they strewed His way with branches, Surely this was not a king, Riding on a little donkey! Such a strange unseemly thing.
Just the common people hailed Him, Just the little children praised, While the Pharisees and others, Only stood and coldly gazed.
Here was no fanfare of trumpets, Kingly robes, nor golden crown . . . But nobody saw the angels As they drifted slowly down;
And nobody heard the singing Echoing from star to star. O, I hope it brought Him comfort! He had traveled far, so far,
And He knew His weary journey Ended at Jerusalem, Ended with a cross, blood-spattered, And a thorny diadem.
Praise Him! Strew His way with palm leaves! Hark while all creation sings, “Every knee shall bow before Him, Lord of Lords, and King of Kings!”
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2011 7:15:41 GMT -6
PILATE'S WIFE
I have not slept. I cannot rest; There is a stone within my breast.
There was a murmur in the town, A swelling tide which would not down,
But still I did not heed it much, Nor dream that it would dare to touch
My husband or myself. Our walls Were strongly built and thick, our halls
Were hung with velvet tapestries. How could street brawlers such as these
Affect our lives? And yet I lay So restless, on my couch that day,
And then I dreamed a troubled dream, Confused and strange. I do not seem
To recollect, but there was greed, And hate; a sponge upon a reed,
And, O, my husband, there was blood — Such blood I never saw—a flood
Which seemed to bathe the world! There were Strange words upon the living air,
And through it all a throbbing love, Yet solemn warning from above.
The center of the dream was He, That good Man whom you would set free,
And yet you did not dare, and so, — O my belov'd, I do not know,
Although you washed your hands that day, Would that suffice? Was that the way
To cleanse yourself from stains of blood Of One who may have been a god?
I cannot rest. O Pilate, you, And I, and they, — what did we do?
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Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2011 7:02:41 GMT -6
HIS HUMBLE HOME
The humble homes, the quiet streets In every little town, He must have eyed them wistfully; And when the night came down
Their lighted windows beckoned Him. He had no meat nor bread, No couch for His worn, weary feet, No bed to lay His head.
The fox his hole, the smallest bird Has her own sheltered nest, But for the Saviour of mankind There was no place of rest.
Come make Thy home, Thou Son of God, Within my heart this day, And keep it soft and warm and sweet, And never go away.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2011 23:31:01 GMT -6
UPON A LITTLE HILL
There is a day, there is an hour My heart cannot forget; We stood upon a little hill, The Mount of Olivet.
It had been forty days since He Had burst the bonds of death And walked again among us here, And still we caught our breath
At every sight of Him. We hung Upon His every word As he expounded things of God, This precious, risen Lord!
It was a balmy sunny day, The sky was blue and fair; Just one cloud drifted lazily Upon the warm sweet air.
Then suddenly but silently Those dear feet left this place Where they had oft trudged wearily; And soon His form, His face
Were lost to sight within the cloud. We could not move nor stir, But stood there gazing upward as We wondered why and where.
Then came two men in white who said, “Grieve not; rejoice, and know He will return some day to you Just as you saw Him go.”
And slowly then we all walked back Unto Jerusalem, And I was glad and sad and hushed, And so were all of them.
And so outside the city's gates The little hill waits yet The touch of His returning feet, — The Mount of Olivet!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2011 23:42:49 GMT -6
THE SECOND FEAST
How happy were the birds that day When all the folks had gone away!
First one flew down, and then another, And each one went and told his brother
How the crumbs were lying thick, Every one could have his pick;
And all along the desert floor They scattered, finding more and more.
The bits of fish, the bits of bread, — A multitude of birds was fed.
Then to the lake, and as they drank They lifted up their heads to thank
The One who feasted them that day When all the folks had gone away.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 10, 2011 23:21:59 GMT -6
ELISABETH
It seemed to be a very simple thing: Two ordinary women, cousins, great With child, who met to visit for awhile As women do—and yet these babes we bore Were miracles of God, for I was old, Past time, and Mary “knew not any man.” Her Child was fathered by the Holy Ghost. And to us both the coming of our sons Was heralded by angels. Thus it was Small wonder, when we met, that though the earth Was heedless, heaven rang with songs of praise!
It seemed my babe, though still unborn, sensed more Than I, as sometimes children do, for when He heard her voice, he leaped within my womb For joy! And thus Almighty God, the Lord Who came to earth, had His first greeting here, First welcome from the world He came to save, From one as small and helpless as Himself!
And straightway Mary and I praised the Lord, And magnified His name. . . And she abode For three months with me. She was very young, And it was good that I should counsel her.
And thus our two sons were together there For three months in my home. It seems so strange They never met again for thirty years, Until that day upon a river's bank, When my son looked into the face of hers, And heard a voice from heaven, “This is My Beloved Son.” And my son's ministry Was done, and that of hers was just begun.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 11, 2011 23:19:22 GMT -6
“The angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door and sat upon it” (Matthew 28:2).
ANGEL AT THE TOMB
The night the Saviour was to rise I flew down softly through the skies,
And reached the garden's perfumed bloom, And sat beside the silent tomb.
And there through all the quiet night I stayed and waited for the light.
The stars hung low, no sound I heard Except the stirring of a bird;
It seemed the whole earth held its breath Waiting for Him to conquer death.
I knew that His disciples slept The sodden sleep of those who wept
Too long. All unaware were they That morn would wipe their tears away.
First came a glowing, faint and dim, Upon the far horizon's rim,
And then the earth began to shake, The very gates of hell to quake!
I rolled the stone away, and then I looked within,—and looked again.
But just as silently as dawn He had arisen, and was gone.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2011 21:59:14 GMT -6
EDEN
The Son of God noted with pleasure That the work of His hands was fair. On this globe, once barren of verdure, His beauty bloomed everywhere.
The pines and the oaks towered skyward, And hidden deep in their shade How fragile the mosses and lilies The hands of the Lord God made!
He piled up the mountains, scooped valleys, Yet stenciled with infinite care And exquisite blendings of colors, The wings that the butterflies wear.
Think of the light in a dewdrop, Think of the bird's golden song Breaking the earth's brooding silence, Praising Him all the day long!
Picture Him making the hoarfrost In intricate patterns, like lace; Think of His sunsets and dawnings! Could anything dare to deface
This perfect world fresh from His fingers? To man be forever the shame! Created by God in His image, Given a body and name,
Meant to be God's close companion! He sinned, and he fell, and the earth, Its loveliness blasted and blighted Lies cursed and awaiting new birth.
And I think of the Lord through the ages, Surveying the work of His hands, Remembering all its first beauty, Its fair seas, its blossoming lands,
And I wonder if He is not weary And sick of the children of men, And longs for the earth to be sinless, And lovely and perfect again.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2011 22:04:17 GMT -6
THE RAPTURE
By Howard Wren Nicholson Tune: “When He cometh to make up His jewels''
Lo, He cometh, soon He cometh, Our blessed Redeemer; Coming surely, coming quickly, The Lord we adore. For the long night is ending, we greet the bright morning. Hark, the heavens are calling, and earth has replied!
Lo, He cometh, soon He cometh, Our heavenly Bridegroom, With our loved ones, all our dear ones, Who've gone on before. Mid the songs of rejoicing, mid the glad hallelujahs, O, the glorious meeting, the Lamb and His bride!
Lo, He cometh, soon He cometh, With shout and with trumpet! Heaven's glory has been opened For us evermore, While the angels are watching the wonderful supper, Christ the Lord, with His loved one at last by His side!
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bcool
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Post by bcool on Apr 14, 2011 6:06:45 GMT -6
Beautiful! And Amen.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 14, 2011 22:04:09 GMT -6
I AM GOING HOME TO GLORY
I am going home to glory, I am on my way! See, the pearly gates have opened, Do not bid me stay!
CHORUS
Oh, I'm going home to glory, Yes, I'm going home to glory. I am going home to glory — AMEN! I am on my way!
I am going home to glory Where I'll lay this burden down; And the only weight I'll carry Is a starry crown.
I am going home to glory, And my loved ones wait me there, And we'll spend the golden ages In a mansion fair.
I am on my way to glory, And I hear the angels sing, And I see the radiant shining Of each silver wing.
I am going home to glory, Do not bid me stay; For I long to see my Saviour On that Hallelujah Day!
I shall feast my eyes forever On His lovely face. Yes, I'm going home to glory — Just a sinner saved by grace!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 25, 2011 7:36:54 GMT -6
SONG — PARDON, PEACE AND POWER
By Howard Wren Nicholson
There is pardon at the cross Of Jesus Christ my Lord. There is pardon at the cross of my Lord. There is pardon for my sins; There eternal life begins, There is pardon, gracious pardon at the cross.
There is peace at the cross Of Jesus Christ my Lord. There is peace at the cross of my Lord. There is peace, yes blessed peace; Where our cares and sorrows cease, There is peace, yes blessed peace at Jesus' cross.
There is power at the cross Of Jesus Christ my Lord. There is power at the cross of my Lord. There is power to overcome, There is power to be His son; There is pardon, peace and power at the cross!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 26, 2011 2:24:50 GMT -6
CALVARY
His hand was pierced that He might place This hand of mine within God's hand, That I might look into God's face, And unafraid before Him stand!
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Post by Deleted on Apr 26, 2011 23:14:14 GMT -6
INTERLUDE
I daily passed this sepulcher, Averting eyes of dread, And thinking, here I'd lonely lie When finally I was dead,
And this adventurous soul of mine Which loved to fare abroad, Would beat against unkindly bars While waiting there for God.
But now that death is over, And tears are of the past, Within my straight and narrow bed I quiet lie at last;
For to my drowsy flesh He gave His blessed gift of sleep. I heed not drifting years, I wait In slumber sweet and deep.
But my freed spirit, joyfully Has long since fared abroad Upon its wondrous final quest, To meet and dwell with God.
And some day, rousing, I shall hear My Lord's voice call, “Arise!” And flesh and spirit, one again, Shall mount through radiant skies!
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