Christ preferred the poor; ever since I have been converted so have I.
quote by John Nelson Darby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repent And Be Converted
Repent and be converted,
For there is very little info of the seven heavens that we can see;
Repent and be converted,
For the third heaven is totally hidden from us at this time;
Repent and be converted,
For only a few will be saved in the long run!
But in this never-ending universe,
We need to be very wis in all that we do.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indians are converts
Some religions converted the people.
Some religions converted the shrines.
Some religions converted the kings.
The Vedic sect adopted local gods.
I am a descendant of forefathers
Who might be converts to many faiths.
If I segregate one on one's religion
It'd mean I insult my forefather's.
05.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My only objective is to paint a Christ so moving that those who see him will be converted.
quote by Georges Rouault
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For the rulers to note
Peace is preferred to liberty.
Safety is preferred to prosperity.
Justice is preferred to charity.
The rulers must know these.
12.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Siege
Your love threw me
In the land of wonders.
It took me by surprise
From my neck
While I was
At my preferred café,
At my preferred table,
While I was teasing my poems,
While my poems were teasing me.
I forgot my preferred café
And I forgot my preferred table
I forgot my poems
I forgot whom I was teasing
And who was teasing me.
.
Your love surprised me
While I was reading my hand
For luck
And fate.
I forgot my hand,
I forgot my luck,
And I forgot my fate.
Your love invaded me
the same way a tsunami
Invaded the moon
In its ecliptic wedding
With the sun.
I woke up weak
Thirsty,
And thirty million light years faraway
From my birth galaxy.
I forgot the moon,
I forgot the sun,
I forgot the wedding
And I forgot my birth galaxy.
Your love surprised me
Like the Christ surprised the ancient world
I forgot Christ
And I forgot the ancient world.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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No Other Mediator, No Other Savior
How many are diverted?
How many get deceived?
They need to be converted
To God truly believe.
Those idols never answer
And Religion never saved
Man cannot be holier
By doctrines that they gave.
I speak in paroxysm
As one who've been set free
From all that Cathecism
To God, did not bring me.
Truth is always ready
For all who seek will find
Christ alone saved you and me
He heals all who are blind.
------- --
'For there is one God and one Mediator between God and man...
Christ Jesus our LORD.'
1 Timothy 2: 5
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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As man sows, so shall he reap. In works of fiction, such men are sometimes converted. More often, in real life, they do not change their natures until they are converted into dust.
quote by Charles W. Chesnutt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men often take their imagination for their heart; and they believe they are converted as soon as they think of being converted.
quote by Blaise Pascal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Has Come To The Time (Chiasmus)
It has come to the time
where everyone that follows Jesus Christ
must ask not
what can my faith, my church,
God do for me;
rather must ask what I can do as a follower
of Jesus Christ
for my faith, my church,
in service of Jesus Christ?
Where we must not only ask
where can I make a contribution
to them who are poor and unemployed,
but by our goodwill give food,
clothes and encouragement
to those who are poor and unemployed.
It has come to the time and place where Jesus Christ
must be the centre point of my life,
where I as a mere human being
must have Jesus Christ as the centre of everything.
This is the time where we
as followers of Jesus Christ
and of every good thing
not only must praise
integrity, honesty and sincerity as a way of life
and follow those whose lives are indicating to Him
like the compass to the pole,
like the pastor,
but where we in our own lives,
we must come to the full right,
where we as men and women must stand firmly
to that which is right, which is honest and good
like the compass needle to the pole
and by ourselves indicate the way
to Jesus Christ.
poem by Gert Strydom
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‘He came unto His own, and His own received Him not’
As Christ the Lord was passing by,
He came, one night, to a cottage door.
He came, a poor man, to the poor;
He had no bed whereon to lie.
He asked in vain for a crust of bread,
Standing there in the frozen blast.
The door was locked and bolted fast.
‘Only a beggar!’ the poor man said.
Christ the Lord went further on,
Until He came to a palace gate.
There a king was keeping his state,
In every window the candles shone.
The king beheld Him out in the cold.
He left his guests in the banquet-hall.
He bade his servants tend them all.
‘I wait on a Guest I know of old.’
‘’Tis only a beggar-man!’ they said.
‘Yes,’ he said; ‘it is Christ the Lord.’
He spoke to Him a kindly word,
He gave Him wine and he gave Him bread.
Now Christ is Lord of Heaven and Hell,
And all the words of Christ are true.
He touched the cottage, and it grew;
He touched the palace, and it fell.
The poor man is become a king.
Never was man so sad as he.
Sorrow and Sin on the throne make three,
He has no joy in mortal thing.
But the sun streams in at the cottage door
That stands where once the palace stood.
And the workman, toiling to earn his food,
Was never a king before.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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His Nail Pierced Hands
Those hands pierced at Calvary, are open today for you and me,
Offering some God’s Salvation, while to others, their restoration,
To those Believers, who know Him, but, who have fallen into sin,
So the newly saved and restored, can both serve the Risen Lord.
As the task at hand is for all, those in Christ, both big and small,
All restored out of trouble in sin, and all newly converted to Him,
All to be part of the mission, to fulfill Christ’s Great Commission,
Given to all, when Christ we receive, to help all around us believe.
We are all saved by God’s Grace, and set in Christ’s Eternal race,
With a goal we’re not to diminish, a race that has no earthly finish,
While on our Savior we fix our eyes, striving for that Eternal Prize,
God’s prize not for one but all, who in service answer Christ’s call.
A call for each and everyone, who accepts the Gift of God’s Son,
And comes to New Life in Him, lead by Christ’s Spirit living within,
Guided by the Spirit of God, to be His witness on this earthly sod,
A witness to the Cross of Christ, offering reason for His Sacrifice.
Pointing to His nail pierced Hands, as we journey across all lands,
Even facing many unknown harms, we’re safe in His Eternal Arms,
As the world we try to reach, with God’s message we must preach,
That God above waits for you, to accept the Cross of Calvary too.
(Copyright ©01/2009)
Jesus Christ
Written by Woodie Guthrie
One, two, three, four
Well Jesus was a man
Who traveled through the land
A hard working man and brave
Well he said to the rich 'Give your money to the poor'
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ is his grave
Well he went to the preacher
He went to the law
And told them all the same
He said sell all your jewelery and give it to the poor
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
When Jesus came to town all the working folks around
Believed what he did say
Well the bankers and the preachers
They nailed him on a cross
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
And [hard] working people
They followed him around
They sung and shouted gay
Well the cops and the soldiers
They nailed him in the head
And they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Oh, hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Well this song was written in New York City
A rich man, preacher and slave
Well if Jesus was to preach while he preached in Galilee
They would lay Jesus Christ in his grave
One, two, three, four!
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'Christ the King of Israel
Rejected and spurned they just would not receive
Him as Christ the king and they did not believe.
but there they crucified Him upon that hill
and platted a crown of thorns mocking Him still.
Reviling him they began to rant and rave.
'He saved others but Himself He cannot save'
All those that had preferred Barabbas instead.
'Let Him descend down now from the cross, ' they said.
We hear the God of heaven look down and say
'My King reigns upon My holy hill this day.'
For Jesus Christ is the King of Israel
and the King of all other nations as well.
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
If Christ Came Questioning
If Christ came questioning His world to-day,
(If Christ came questioning,)
'What hast thou done to glorify thy God,
Since last My feet this lower earth plane trod?'
How could I answer Him; and in what way
One evidence of my allegiance bring;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning, to me alone,
(If Christ came questioning,)
I could not point to any church or shrine
And say, 'I helped build up this house of Thine;
Behold the altar, and the corner stone';
I could not show one proof of such a thing;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning, on His demand,
(If Christ came questioning,)
No pagan soul converted to His creed
Could I proclaim; or say, that word or deed
Of mine, had spread the faith in any land;
Or sent it forth, to fly on stronger wing;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning the soul of me,
(If Christ came questioning,)
I could but answer, 'Lord, my little part
Has been to beat the metal of my heart,
Into the shape I thought most fit for Thee;
And at Thy feet, to cast the offering;
Shouldst Thou come questioning.
'From out the earth-fed furnaces of desire,
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning,)
This formless and unfinished gift I brought,
And on life's anvil flung it down, white hot:
A glowing thing, of selfishness and fire,
With blow on blow, I made the anvil ring;
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning).
'The hammer, Self-Control, beat hard on it;
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning,)
And with each blow, rose fiery sparks of pain;
I bear their scars, on body, soul, and brain.
Long, long I toiled; and yet, dear Lord, unfit,
And all unworthy, is the heart I bring,
To meet Thy questioning.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Your Preferred Disposition
Come follow me were Jesus' words to the Apostles right at the start,
But words alone aren't enough, as you must follow out of your heart.
From Heaven Christ sent The Spirit to guide us in Truth my friend,
As Believers we must hear and obey His direction right to the end.
Paul, the light to the Gentiles said I wish you could all be like me,
He was crucified with Christ and in his life it was Christ you'd see.
Being crucified with Christ he said I don't live, Christ lives in me,
Believers too must follow Paul and crucify our lives upon that tree.
You will be tossed to and fro if you are influenced by this world,
Or grow in Grace if you heed the words Godly men continue to herald.
The choice is yours for God did not cut all of us out of one mold,
But we are all accountable to just One Shepherd, over one Holy Fold.
Individually we were knitted together with God's Grace and His Love,
With one eternal purpose of reflecting Christ, who now reigns above.
Out of the abundance of the heart words reflect the attitude of man,
And in deeper recesses could be unspoken motives of a hidden plan.
But remember, all things shall be revealed by Christ's Eternal Light,
So friend test the spirit and be certain that your attitude is right.
You can obey or quench the spirit of the One Jesus said He will send,
Knowing this, what will be your preferred disposition my dear friend?
(Copyright ©01/2004 Bob Gotti)
Portrait
Youre not who they say you are
They made you the enemy
(christ-jah flesh; christ-light within; christ- beginning and the end)
Taken something so beautiful
Painted a new picture that makes me sick
(christ-witness; christ-living one; christ-first and the last)
Feed our minds confusion
Sweeten the taste of pollution.
(christ-word life; christ-resurrect; christ-everlasting jah)
Chorus:
Some people call you father
Maybe you could set me free
These people hate each other
But youve always been there for me
I refuse to be like you
Without life, caving in
(christ-jah flesh; christ-light within; christ- beginning and the end)
I surrender, giving up all that is me
Yielding to you
(christ-witness; christ-living one; christ-first and the last)
Shape me in my brokeness
Empower me forever
(christ-word life; christ-resurrect; christ-everlasting jah)
Chorus
Outro:
I know you will complete this work started in me
I need you more than ever now that I know who you are
I know you will complete this work started in me
I need you more than ever now that Ive come so far
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesus
WHERE is poor Jesus gone?
He sits with Dives now,
And his dogs flesh their teeth
On Lazarus below.
Where is poor Jesus gone?
He is with Magdalen.
He doles her piece by piece,
Her pittance of shame!
Where is poor Jesus gone?
The good Samaritan,
What does he there alone?
He stabs the wounded man!
Where is poor Jesus gone,
The lamb they sacrificed? —
They've made God of his carrion
And labelled it 'Christ!'
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Give Thanks in All Things
The hardest lesson that I've learned helped make me what I am.
It felt so hard, at first I turned away from Christ, God's Lamb.
For there He was, upon the Cross, in total agony.
While I looked on, in total loss, aghast at Calvary...
But then God's Spirit helped me stay, six hours long and more.
I watched the seconds pass away, I watched Christ's Blood outpour...
I watched as John and Mary wept... My heart as numb as stone.
And slowly was our vigil kept, so Christ was not alone...
Lord Jesus promised Paradise to one thief by His side,
The other thief was not so wise, yet all were crucified
And on that day, Christ breathed His last, His life came to an end
And those who loved Him felt downcast as they lost their best friend.
I've never wept like that before, to me, He was God's Prince.
He preached and thrilled me to the core, now He died for my sins.
When Sunday came, I heard the news, He'd risen from the dead!
In Christ, God's message to the Jews, believe in Him who bled...
God's Spirit taught me prophecies, that's why I preach God's word.
Believe in Christ, the Prince of Peace, the Lamb of God preferred.
Give thanks in all things here on Earth and do the things you should.
Give thanks with love for all you're worth, because the Lord is good.
( July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Volcano
Where is the poor man's wealth?
I shouted in a dream.
Where is the poor man's dignity?
I cried in a dream.
I saw the black smoke
blowing from the mountain's peak.
Lava, the earth's blood river
flowed everywhere.
A clergyman's hermitage
miser's money, beggar's till and prostitutes beauty
all converted to stone.
Farmers, fields, priceless graveyards
Kings, Queens, Horses, Elephants and the forest too
All had been covered with Lava.
Only the God has escaped and remained in the sky
because he is not a human being.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Julian and the Antiochians
Neither the letter C, they say, nor the
letter K had ever harmed the city.... We,
finding interpreters... learned that these
are the initial letters of names, the first
of Christ and the second of Konstantios.
Julian, Misopogon (The Beard-Hater)
Was it conceivable that they would ever give up
their beautiful way of life, the range
of their daily pleasures, their brilliant theatre
which consummated a union between Art
and the erotic proclivities of the flesh?
Immoral to a degree—and probably more than a degree—
they certainly were. But they had the satisfaction that their life
was the notorious life of Antioch,
delectably sensual, in absolute good taste.
To give up all this, indeed, for what?
His hot air about the false gods,
his boring self-advertisement,
his childish fear of the theatre,
his graceless prudery, his ridiculous beard.
O certainly they preferred C,
certainly they preferred K—a hundred times over.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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