Praise and Poetry II

[Keith]

Aug 26, 2013 11:41:13 GMT -6 navyblue said:

Churches For Sale or Rent

By the way, loved this one, brother Arley!

[navyblue]

Thanks, Keith. That tune and start of lyrics has been haunting me for some time, now. It finally came into something I could share, in this offering. Younger folk might not know that song, but, we of slightly elder age remember. Ha.

[navyblue]

SEVEN DAYS
By Arley Steinhour 082913

A part of the body, in Yashuah/Jesus,
Each Reborn, Believer, Eternal be,
Eye, Lip, or Bowel, will please us,
As, Royal part of God's Veracity.

I start this Good Morning, Ditty,
To those, who refuse to choose,
Know, now, that you have my pity,
Eternal Joy, soon, you may lose.

I cry from deep within my heart,
Your ear will hear my mournful plea,
Repent your Sin, a vital part,
Of being God's Children, Joyful, and Free.

The 'Arc' of God, does soon arrive,
To load, and take, the last of Bride,
Up to Wedding Feast, those alive,
With the dead, arms opened wide.

The 'Left Behind,' may, see Rapture, Bright,
And, or, hear, God's Heaven Voice Sound,
As Trump of God, calls us 'Up Here,'
When, our mortal things fall to the ground.

Behind us, closes the Gate of Grace,
That doesn't mean that God is done,
Salvation still good, in another Face,
Great Faith, plus Works, can win the Race.

I say this, not to condemn you,
Nor, scare the socks from your feet,
Tribulation is a very Horrible Zoo,
Pain, Suffering, and Death, complete.

In the name of Jesus, please Repent,
So you live forever, within His Tent,
So many of man, will yet turn away,
To miss their chance, at Heaven's Play.
AMEN

How many days notice did God give Noe,
To complete loading and be onboard,
How many refused, to believe Noah's story,
Until, they cried, 'Please take me too, oh Lord.'
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54583/

[navyblue]

Good Morning God 083013
By Arley Steinhour 083013
Father God,
On this eve, of Sabbath day,
I wake before you, with need to pray,
That you might know, that I am here,
To praise and hold you, loud and clear.

To thank you, in advance of play,
Events of this, your blessed day,
Tomorrows Sabbath, last of year,
Fifty - Seven - Seventy - Four, soon here.

Would that I could, catch every year,
To treasure what you mean to me,
Sharing with others, how I hold you Dear,
With, all the world, to see.

So many, in the world at large,
Refuse to see you, out of hand,
Thinking that they are in charge,
While roaming around this land.

They have a job, and draw a check,
That pays their mortal bills,
They are so blind, soon, to wreck,
Their ignorance, gives me chills.

I keep the watch, for when You come,
Returning from Your 'long journey,'
So many, turn away, and you, shun,
Seeking help from the Satan attorney.

He'll tell them lies, no surprise,
they'll swallow every word,
That ugliness, few will despise,
As members of a Hell-bent Herd.

I'm Almost set, to face the day,
With its ever so many traps,
Those that hate you, won't run away,
Thinking, they have you, in collapse.

They try to martyr, all the free,
That live in your holy word,
Burning Churches, full of Christian seed,
Horror of Horror's Undeterred.

Christian martyrdom soon fills the space
At the bottom of your Holy Alter,
Pleading to you, with upturned face,
That you patience soon will alter.

We know you know, beginning, and end,
As We're safely tucked in your arms,
Soon you reject, those still in sin,
To Lake of Fire, No more Sin-charms.

AMEN

Freedom, it seems, lies dead in the sand,
Sin has caused God, to have this planned.
Can Repentant heart, and Prayer, withstand,
The Wrath of God meted, on man, and land?
Let us find out.
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54605/

[navyblue]

Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth
By Arley Steinhour 083013

The Bible says, we all need to read,
The pages, and verse, End to End,
Bible, on shelf, is no more than a seed,
In which, no mortal life can depend.

Don't make the mistake, of walking away,
From the best Book, ever written,
Walking away, from God's Word, to play
Makes the wrong choice, and be smitten.

To not be in Heaven, there's no place to go,
But with Fallen Angels, to Lake of Fire,
You must accept, and believe here below,
To be awarded a destiny, any higher.

So pick up a Bible, close eyes and prod,
To a page, where your finger may go,
See what it says, about man and God,
and, learn something, you do not know.

Look at the verses, with eyes open wide,
You'll find verses you remember most,
Those that to your live have Truth in it,
An indication of guidance in Holy Ghost.

Two sections it has, the Old, and New,
The Old, written before Jesus came,
The New, written, on what Jesus did do,
To Glorify God, and Proclaim His Name.

Truth is there, for those who care,
That Truth, that's somewhat hidden,
Written, so the Satan doesn't know,
where all of God's Truths are written.

Satan sees what's written upon the page,
And thinks, he's seen it all,
But, looking a little deeper, a better wage,
There, you'll find Satan's Fall.

Jesus is soon returning,
To be the King of Kings,
Expectant, the Bride is yearning,
For all our Rewarding things.

The Snatching comes, to take us away,
That means, the Lord Himself,
Bridegroom heralded by Trumpets, that day,
Snatching us, out of 'mortal' self.

Glorified, before feet leave earth,
We're off to the Bema Judgment,
To be given, eternal Rebirth,
To serve with Priestly Temperament.

From then on, we, will not return,
To this earth, where Sun is lit,
We stay to serve God, and learn,
In New Jerusalem I believe we call it.
AMEN
Really, Really Big, it be,
That Home that loves to fly,
Billions there, like you and me,
Never more to die.
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54615/

[navyblue]

Words Uttered
By Arley Steinhour 083113

Reaching out to other hearts,
Is not an hard, nor easy, chore,
They might run off for other parts,
If offended, decide to go to war.

The Hammer, that builds a Temple,
Can build coffins, from old boards,
Words we use, a good example,
When we share God's depth of words.

Look around this world, of mortal man,
Note their lives, and diversity,
Each of us fits within a clan,
With its own special University.

Sometimes the words, be just the same,
But carry a quite different connotation,
Learn to use wisely, the thought in a name,
And we find a Friendly, or Hostile Nation.

Word and Thought, dictate the 'hammer,'
that is used in conversation,
A two - pound, is too much slammer,
For a 'carpet - tack,' situation.

To rebuke a brother of sister,
Use the lightest hammer you can,
You win with no build up of blister,
To Obtain results, within, God's Plan.

Today, we all, are quite upset,
We know the End is very near,
We do not want to miss a bet,
Leaving no one behind, down here.

Work to witness, as if Forest Fire,
Is blazing, hotly, just over the hill,
Warning folk, even not in God's 'Hire,'
Who'll Reject, preferring Satan's Swill.

AMEN

We, now, need to use the large hammer, or bat,
To wake folks up, but, not knock them out,
And, realize, where most of mankind is at,
No one, listens to what we, now, shout.
(Rock Hammer, ponder)
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54619/

[navyblue]

Tic Tac Toe Times
By Arley Steinhour 090113

'X'es and 'O's, 'X'es and 'O's,
Indicates where family money all goes,
'X'es will take, and shut the door,
'O's will take, and then demand more.

Man used to play that silly game,
Life's, 'Tic, Tac, Toe,' the silly name,
Object being, sometimes to win,
Lose, or tie, you start again.

Life in America, was much like that,
To fail, only meant, restarting at bat,
Failure accepted, if trying to win,
In life, Laziness, a cardinal Sin.

Men, taking jobs, for pennies a day,
When good paying work, went away,
Pride, would not accept, a welfare check,
Work twenty hours, until a wreck.

A man who died, feeding his family,
All felt goes to Heaven, eventually,
God wouldn't reject a hard working man,
Who died, over-working, to feed his clan.

No matter the reason, or weather be,
Up early on Sunday, the preacher to see,
Small coin, in the box, hollow the sound,
When times are tough, pennies are found.

Ten pennies, makes a noise like much money,
Sometimes, dry bread, and drop of honey,
Moms had to give something, so God knows she's there,
Dad working, brood praising, on knees in prayer.

When times got better, then nickel and dime,
In good times, folding dollars, without coinish chime,
Families knew good times, when Dad worked eight hours,
Each week, one day off, singing, in Church, and in showers.

When dinner had plenty, with, 'seconds to compliment,'
Mom's good cooking, with family merriment,
Life, sometimes up, and sometimes down,
But like Tic, Tac, Toe, more fun without frown.

AMEN

As time passes, life will complicate,
When there's problems, we compensate,
Changing priorities, to not exacerbate,
Harmonious life, on the Family's Plate.
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54625/

[navyblue]

Prophetic Blight
By Arley Steinhour 090113

I guess, I'm now ready to comment,
I needed a bit more hardened cement,
But, without sources of information,
I speak, or we could lose the nation.

Look at the Murals, and Read the words,
The story is there, for leaders, and 'herds,'
Those in the boxes, represent the masses,
Called, 'We the People,' of different classes.

I mourn for man, who be left behind,
Many of which, will lose their mind,
Atrocities, beyond mortal History,
Satan invented, his deepest mystery.

Denver International not the only place,
Where Government leaders soon will race,
To be safe, from what must be on its way,
Prophesied in Bible, as 'The Lord's DAY.'

These foolish people, think they'll be safe,
That God cannot reach them, in their 'faith,'
Huddled together, they'll be easy to find,
When God goes to work, they go out of their mind.

The plagues that settled upon ancient Egypt,
The water held back, became Pharaohs Crypt,
Were no more than a warning, of what lies ahead,
When the Beast brings God's Judgment on every head.

Not only the First Born, but most every soul,
Will hope and pray, they survive Judgment's goal,
The Book, say's they won't, don't worry about that,
Only, The Bride/Church, has New Jerusalem flat.

AMEN

Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54628/

Then, If site is still around, once you've read my Poem,
Go visit this site,
Marvel at the sight,
Read With your might,
See Prophetic Blight.
extraordinaryintelligence.com/mysterious-murals-and-monuments-at-the-denver-airport/

[navyblue]

Childly Persuasion
By Arley Steinhour 090113

With childly persuasion, I yearned to be a cop,
Now, I'm older, looking like a well spun top,
Wide as I'm tall, well scared skin, very thin,
If I don't dim the lights, very few would walk in.

My kids won't come see me, not even Ex-wife,
My home could be baron, but no-way is my life,
As a Hermit, I live, but have family and friend,
All over the world, through the WEB without end.

We've policed the world, ever since World War Two,
With our military might, what else could we do,
Troops, now spread so thin, won't see more than a few,
A retired, world cop, I've sailed oceans quite Blue,

I talk with Faith family, and WEB friends, who will hear,
We discuss God's word, find a gem, and we cheer,
The days, getting shorter, not much longer to go,
When the Son of God, Jesus, will steal the show.

With Trumpets all blaring, He'll cry, 'Come on up Here,'
Those, not in shock, will give Him a Mighty Cheer,
Anyone looking back, sees the planet we left,
Earth, no more home, the 'Left Behind,' are bereft.

Up, Up, and Away, be it night time, or day,
We're going home for, Reward, Work and Play,
Wedding Feast, now prepared, is sitting in place,
Awaiting the Church/Bride, from this Human Race.

Times, will then change, to New Covenant Time,
Salvation Grace is consumed, by Tribulation Rhyme,
Seven years, Hell on Earth, and so-many will die,
God knows all of this, but it still makes Him Cry.
AMEN

Some residents have all the luck,
Only thing missing is Pick-up truck,
Front steps are guarded, so too the back
Even the Gate, has an Auto Guard Shack.
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54631/

[navyblue]

World War THREE
By Arley Steinhour 090213

People who have horses,
May need keep them in a vault,
If, someone uses E M P courses,
Horse value, be much more than salt.

Body weight, in Gold, I'm feeling,
A price, not all can pay,
So, sneaking up, and stealing,
Will help the selfish, make their day.

Horse has many more attributes,
Over a car or truck, that don't run,
One could make a real good living,
If, horses, owned, be more than 'one.'

There is a problem, off the bat,
Takes two years, to raise a horse,
To a level it knows where it's at,
For riding, and plowing a straight course.

Two years of no food, on plate, to eat,
Would make the best of man quite hungry,
Wild game gone fast, as staple meat,
When children die, folks get quite angry.

Wal-Mart collapses, without fuel for trucks,
Gas Station tanks, be 'finger licking dry,'
Doctors tear up sheets, for bandages,
And people's eyes, too dry, to cry.

Due to mortal man's need, for worldly war,
An Historical condition, called 'E-M-P - Three,'
Soundly throws Technology out the door,
And survivors, though thin, are Free.

Being Free, they'll fight, hunt, and gather,
Whatever enemy, or food, they can see,
On the dark side, I could more 'blather,'
May I say, Choose Jesus, while He's still Free.
AMEN
I'm So Pretty, Oh So Pretty,
Since cars don't work anymore,
I'm expensive, but not Petty,
You can ride me, while I'm making more.
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54636/

[Keith]

Now, Arley, you penned that using some good, old-fashioned horse sense! ;D

[navyblue]

Shalom Keith, one and all,
Thank you for your welcome comment, plus, 'pun' noted, Yeee-Haaa!!!
I pray, this offering makes horse sense also:

Peace or War Drums
By Arley Steinhour 090313

Has anyone taken time and prayed,
Seeking out, what God has bade,
Or, at His feet, the query laid,
As to how, He'd have it played?

We have a Great Conundrum,
About the beating of a War-drum.
Do we fight, or stay on sideline,
With no proofs, either be fine.

The words 'be fine,' misnomer,
As the thought need be a comber,
No one knows the answer, true,
And might accept what makes world blue.

Blue, is silence, that cannot say,
How one feels, to have died that day,
On the numbers, many a zero,
Most be victim, not called 'Hero.'

The sides stand firm, about the crime,
That has happened, beyond the 'Red Line,'
Without the proofs, of who's to blame,
There's no restitution, without a Name.

God knows the guilty parties, well,
Soon will show them the 'Road to Hell,'
Syrians, have been fighting, quite a while,
If we 'Interfere,' neither side will smile.

They'll blame the Christian, and the Jew,
For stopping them, from what they best do,
Kill each other, over who's in charge,
Let them make their cemeteries, large.

AMEN

As Yom Teruah's Feast Day begins,
With New Moon sighting, as daylight ends,
May we offer the world, a Joyous Noise,
As we celebrate, all that God's Kingdom Employ's.
In the Hebrew Year 5774
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54656/

[navyblue]

Yom Teruah Shalom, One and All,

I've been prompted, to pull my first Praise poem, posted at the Gazette, on 09/09/10, with slight modification of grammar, mostly, as an encore, for whomever reads my offerings; Smoothed out, a tad, I re-offer:

LAST TICK OF GRACE rev 090413
by Arley W. Steinhour 090910

Have you ever heard a Shofar wail,
From somewhere in the sky,
Or have Thanksgiving dinner,
Without a pumpkin pie?

Have you ever read the Bible,
Not knowing what it said to you,
Because the words sound funny,
With some printed Red, or Blue?

Does the Pastor stand and speechify,
From Verses, one or two,
Stand at the door, when he is done,
To shake hands with them, and you?

You leave Church feeling empty,
Knowing Full is how to feel,
Full of God's own perfect word,
Happy as a fish fed Seal.

You wonder why the tumult,
The world has gone insane,
Good is bad, and bad is good,
Like upward flowing rain.

You hear another brother say,
The Rapture's close at hand,
You look at him, in wonder,
Is he talking of a Music Band?

He sees your look of query,
And leads you to the side,
He whispers softly in your ear,
'That's when we learn to fly.'

Stutter and stammer is about,
All that you can do,
Who does this guy think you are,
A real dumb country fool?

The brother starts by saying
Tis the time when one can't hide,
For Jesus Christ is coming back,
To snatch away His Bride.

Of those Reborn, in Him, Above,
Not one soul is left behind.
Those Left Behind, face Hell on earth,
Controlled by Satan's kind.

What makes you sure, you ask of him,
This brother, who shares all,
Others tried, and failed the test,
And got 'nailed to the wall.'

He said; 'Tetrad Eclipses, fit the days,
Of Prophetic Feast's of God;
Soon after, Jesus Rules the World,
With His Saints, and Iron Rod.

Israel, the new leaved, "Olive Tree,"
From Exile Grave, returning,
Something no one thought could be,
Resurrected, from Death and Burning.

Truth, at last, fills heart to brim,
Filled by Bible's Cornucopic Horn,
The Shofar sounds from deep within,
Israel's Soul has been Reborn.

Too late for us to learn it all,
But, the Bible now makes more sense,
In Eleventh hour, started Vineyard Call,
But, we're paid, a whole day's 'Pence.'

The Hour left, won't fill a bowl,
But, an Hour's work, be so much fun,
Working as God's 'Vineyard Soul,'
Belonging to His, Only Begotten, Son.

Therefore:

The time is Right, so very Right,
Tribulation Woes soon begin,
Fill the heart with Agape Light,
Turn your Eternal Life, from Sin.

Table is set, the Food prepared,
Guests Invited, by the King,
Lamps trimmed, Oil can't be shared,
Bride Bedecked, as we take wing.

MARANATHA, Dear Lord, MARANATHA

AMEN

There was a time, now, three years ago,
I thought we'd cease to roam,
The Church, the Bride of Jesus Christ,
Snatched up and taken Home.

I guess He must have 'tarried,'
For it seems, we are still here,
Waiting, for the Groom we married,
Who might, still, be very near:
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54668/

[Keith]

Sept 4, 2013 11:33:52 GMT -6 navyblue said:

I guess He must have 'tarried,'
For it seems, we are still here,
Waiting, for the Groom we married, Who might, still, be very near:

From your pen to God's ears, Arley, amen.

[navyblue]

Thank you, brother Keith, High praise, indeed. (bush).. I am so blessed He wants me to strengthen hearts.

Nehemia Gordon, of Karaite Korner, just sent an update, that due to the difficulty of seeing the moon, because of the cycle it is in, Saturday/Sunday will probably be Yom Teruah/Rosh Hashanah, which means the Rabbinic Calendar is off by four days, this year, since the latest New moon cannot be after Saturday Evening. I see this as, possibly, a doubly hidden 'Day nor Hour,' situation, something God is able to do, to confound the Satan, plus, most of the people. Ha. Keep the Watch. AMEN

[navyblue]

FEAST of LAST TRUMP
By Arley Steinhour 090513

We, here on earth, in celebration,
Of Yom Teruah day, Only one, each year,
As with human's blind colligation,
The calendar is nowhere near.

We started out on Wednesday Eve,
For the joy, man parties two days,
God, might have something up His sleeve,
But no one 'Knows,' before He 'Plays.'

Could it be, this 'Last Trump,' Feast Day,
Has something to do with Bridegroom's Bride,
The 'Blind,' will just go out to 'Play,'
No lit lamp, nor arms open wide.

We, of the 'Faith,' and 'Christian' name,
Have a few, who play at that game,
Without Redemptive Faith, act the same,
Not, Reborn, have only self to blame.

Rejected, when Bridegroom, comes for Bride,
I pray, then, their eyes will open wide,
With repentive heart, and voice, have cried,
'You are our GOD,' Heart Certified.

They lose the chance to be part of Bride,
Some, in shame, might run away, to hide,
No rock, or hill, nor Mountainside,
Can prevent Repentance, when His word is applied.

So, if, by chance, you are 'Left Behind,'
And, no 'True Christian,' can you find,
Rejecting Salvation, means you are 'Blind,'
For, without Repentance, you're 'Satan's Kind.'

Repent Early, the Rewards are 'Great,'
Procrastination, may make you 'Late,'
Don't let God's 'Gift Offer Dissipate,'
Or, the best you may be, is 'Second Death, Weight.'
AMEN

The Cross is still there,
Come hang on it, your sin,
Jesus will take your share,
In His Blood, We all WIN.
Archive & Pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54694/

[navyblue]

RETIRE Satire PLEASE
By Arley Steinhour 090713

Once again, We face a day,
That 'War Talk' has many traces,
In an email, with much to say,
On 'Low' talk, in 'High' places.

The subject News, was a jackass,
That one leader, called another,
At a meeting that shouldn't pass,
At an encounter, brother with a brother.

Family, with level heads, and hearts,
Saw through the lies, contained,
'Satire Humor,' someone explained,
A laugh or chuckle, then trashcan trained.

What Revolution, could have, NOT, taken place,
If the words 'Eat Cake' were never spoken,
The starving, asked bread, for the empty space,
But the leaders, awarded a 'Satire Token.'

Would there have been a 'War,' called 'One,'
If a man had 'Booed,' and not shot a Count,
A month in jail, with all, safe in the Sun,
Many Thousands living, to fill a 'non-war' account.

Would Panicked damage, have never been done,
Through the new toy, 'Radio,' and a 'News type show,'
Called, 'War of the Worlds,' played for 'Satirical-fun,'
But, 'horse and buggy' minds didn't, couldn't, know.

Would the USA have entered the War, called 'Two,'
If the fleet of Japan, had never arrived, to attack,
But, enter Pearl Harbor, as a part of our Social 'Stew,'
Many millions might have lived, no Satires, to track.

I pray No, in most every case,
B U T, knowing mans nature to fight,
There's Damage and Death, in every space,
With that darkness, few see the light.
AMEN
Satire humor, oft feeds upon Loss,
That needs to look up to an earthworm,
'Satire Humor,' naught more than Dross,
Satan tries to make man, less than a 'Germ.'
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54720/

[navyblue]

Great Ships Asea
By Arley Steinhour 090713

As a lad, of nine,
I saw a long line,
of Great Ships on the Sea,
A wonderful experience for me.

Four Battleships, no longer King,
Proudly Asea, for most, a last fling,
The aircraft Carrier, now on top,
As a Fighting machine, hard to stop.

No longer might the big guns roar,
Or watch shells land, to know the score,
But Bombs, as big as a twin sized bed,
On planes, called Jets, flying overhead.

Take-off, and Landing, on a postage stamp,
Tail hook, and cable, replacing the runway,
Should you miss, you could, usually, go around,
They flew on the promise of improvement, someday.

The Carrier, has a story, of its own reservation,
Today, the men-of-war, were passing in station,
One, two, three, then, four, did steam in a line,
Destroyers, of 'Tonto' election, keeping up fine.

Where were we at?, I'm glad that you ask,
Long Beach Amusement, where children could bask,
No way in Heaven, could one do everything,
Money short on demand, so, more, a sight-seeing fling.

We did ride the coaster, that flew over the water,
The first drop so steep, I did what I shouldn't aught'er,
Fainted, dead away, awoke in a curve, went back to sleep,
When I awoke, they were trying to pry my grip, on rail.
(this stanza don't rhyme, neither did the coaster ride)

Back to the ships, as they, 'soon sailed out of sight,'
It wasn't long, until they 'sailed, into the 'night,'
That brief encounter, I still see, by closing eyes,
Searching for Jesus, my 'BB,' up there, in God's Skies.
AMEN
The old and tattered, are soon retired,
No matter, how well they sailed,
We 'Oldsters,' see it as being 'Fired,'
Worse yet, too often, as if we've Failed.

Most, Sea-Dogs, are sent to the Junk yard,
Some of the more Glorious, to a Museum,
Seeking a loved one, in Junk yard, is hard,
But, at Museum, need money, to see-um
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54721/

[navyblue]

Tabernacle of GOD
By Arley Steinhour 091013

Some folks may have noticed,
A Snatching, no one shared,
Even though nothing was promised,
An empty feeling we declared.

Nothing required, to fill the day,
No training needed for us to fly,
When God says, 'Keep the watch, I say,
I'll keep the watch, until I die.

But, then, I cannot really, die,
I died, my 'second,' at the Cross,
First awaits, but second don't apply,
Second, went to Cross, with my Boss.

Four Thousand years, without Jesus,
How was worshiping, then done,
Blood of animal, before, would keep us,
Covered, until replaced by the 'Only One.'

Moses built a Tabernacle to God,
Once Israel left Egypt, for their new land,
Made of skins, heavy cloth, and Rod,
Given 'Oracles,' to bind God's Royal Band.

Tabernacle retired, by Solomon's Temple,
What a glorious vision, morning sun brings,
White granite, great beams, a gold-laid example,
Of a Home, fit for God and Son, King of Kings.

Temples have a story, Tabernacle be the root,
Take it down, march along, and quickly put it up,
For Forty years, Israel did that, on the route,
To the Land of milk and honey, in their cup.

If only they had trusted the word of God,
And ask Him to lead them along their way,
He wouldn't have needed a forty year rod,
To purge the unfaithful, through death, away.

Imagine yourself, High Priest, for a day,
In the Tabernacle, only He could enter,
On Yom Kippur, with blood, to 'Stay,'
God's Wrath, as man's only forgiver.

AMEN

You have the chance to come and see,
Many Prophetic proofs, in God's Word,
You can, September twenty eighth, and be,
High Priest in Training, with teaching heard.

Watch the Gazette, for time and place,
You'll need a couple hours, to be replete,
An hour for tour, another, God to embrace,
For Tabernacle experience to be complete.

WELCOME to All Open Hearts, for Jesus to FILL
Archive & pic. at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54766/

[navyblue]

Once more the time for me to send,
The poem I send, each year,
The memory, keep alive and defend,
Of Flight Ninety Three Hero’s here:

Flight 93
By: Arley W. Steinhour 2002
[Modified slightly 090913 Twelfth Anniversary Edition]

You wake up in the morning,
an ordinary Joe;
preparing for the routine,
of a young man on the go.

Shower, shave, teeth brushed on fly,
you have packed your bag to leave;
kiss your wife and kids goodbye,
brush talcum from your sleeve.

The taxi ride is routine,
to where you’ll go aloft;
as sun is lighting up the sky,
where clouds are white and soft.

You feel the plane lift off the ground,
Your preflight jitters fade;
Great wife, kids, and job you think,
‘I really have it made.’

Minutes into flight time,
you get the dreaded news;
five hijackers, they be haters,
of our Christians and our Jews.

The message from the bad guys is,
“Be smart, against us, lend no hand“;
You know that throughout history,
they’ll just fly somewhere and land.

They’ll rant and rave excessively,
ransom they’ll demand;
call for release, from a jail
members of their band.

Your nervousness is soon replaced
with total, abject, fear;
As flight crew and the pilot
are pushed roughly to the rear.

The pilot says that something’s wrong,
hijackers, now, the plane, will fly;
and if he doesn’t do it right,
then everyone will die.

The cell phone in your pocket,
handy and maybe works;
call your wife to tell her
'plane hijacked by some jerks.'

She tells you with a deep concern,
Twin Towers have been struck;
and then you know beyond a doubt,
you have all ran out of luck.

The plane is going Southeast,
D.C. is on that track;
the aircraft is a weapon;
You have to take it back.

The plane has over fifty souls,
D.C. has thousands more;
the choice is simply who may die
from this heinous act of war.

You tell your wife you love her,
but you have a job to do;
you’re going to take the airplane back,
and subdue those crazy few.

You tell her that you may not live,
as something may go wrong;
these people don’t want money,
they want to kill our freedom song.

The last words that your wife will hear
brands freedoms corporate soul;
the battle cry, no better made,
than what you said: “Let’s Roll.”

Spectator, you no longer be,
your heart hears drum and fife;
something must be done, and very quick,
to save more innocent life.

Into freedoms history,
and shirking not your charge;
Bad guys lose, good guys win,
the price is very large.

You brought us all together,
that very fateful way;
the standard raised for “Patriot,”
you few have set this day.

Rest well you friends of country,
God bless, and keep your souls;
patriots, can die, but once;
While cowards live in holes!

AMEN

May what the passengers of Flt 93 did that day be the standard to be met,
as they accomplished the same standard stated by Jesus:
"No one shows greater love than when he lays down life for friends."
Flight 93 Hero's saved, many 'Friends.'

Archive & Pic at: www.mccookgazette.com/blogs/1580/entry/54769/