Church Building
Uncle Jacob often told us,
Since freedom blessed our race
We ought all to come together
And build a meeting place.
So we pinched, and scraped, and spared,
A little here and there:
Though our wages was but scanty,
The church did get a share.
And, when the house was finished,
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
He was looking mighty feeble,
And his head was awful gray.
But his voice rang like a trumpet;
His eyes looked bright and young;
And it seemed a mighty power
Was resting on his tongue.
And he gave us all his blessing -
'Twas parting words he said,
For soon we got the message
The dear old man was dead.
But I believe he's in the kingdom,
For when we shook his hand
He said, 'Children, you must meet me
Right in the promised land;
'For when I done a moiling
And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
Straightway I hope to go.'
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Aunt Chloe
.
I remember, well remember,
.
That dark and dreadful day,
.
When they whispered to me, "Chloe,
.
Your children's sold away!" 1.
It seemed as if a bullet
.
Had shot me through and through,
.
And I felt as if my heart-strings
.
Was breaking right in two. 1.
And I says to cousin Milly,
.
"There must be some mistake;
.
Where's Mistus?" "In the great house crying --
.
Crying like her heart would break. 1.
"And the lawyer's there with Mistus;
.
Says he's come to 'ministrate,
.
'Cause when master died he just left
.
Heap of debt on the estate. 1.
"And I thought 'twould do you good
.
To bid your boys good-bye --
.
To kiss them both and shake their hands,
.
And have a hearty cry. 1.
"Oh! Chloe, I knows how you feel,
.
'Cause I'se been through it all;
.
I thought my poor old heart would break,
.
When master sold my Saul." 1.
Just then I heard the footsteps
.
Of my children at the door,
.
And then I rose right up to meet them,
.
But I fell upon the floor. 1.
And I heard poor Jakey saying,
.
"Oh, mammy, don't you cry!"
.
And I felt my children kiss me
.
And bid me, both, good-bye. 1.
Then I had a mighty sorrow,
.
Though I nursed it all alone;
.
But I wasted to a shadow,
.
And turned to skin and bone. 1.
But one day dear uncle Jacob
.
(In heaven he's now a saint)
.
Said, "Your poor heart is in the fire,
.
But child you must not faint." 1.
Then I said to uncle Jacob,
.
If I was good like you,
.
When the heavy trouble dashed me
.
I'd know just what to do. 1.
Then he said to me, "Poor Chloe,
.
The way is open wide:"
.
And he told me of the Saviour,
.
And the fountain in His side. 1.
Then he said "Just take your burden
.
To the blessed Master's feet;
.
I takes all my troubles, Chloe,
.
Right unto the mercy-seat." 1.
His words waked up my courage,
.
And I began to pray,
.
And I felt my heavy burden
.
Rolling like a stone away. 1.
And a something seemed to tell me,
.
You will see your boys again --
.
And that hope was like a poultice
.
Spread upon a dreadful pain. 1.
And it often seemed to whisper,
.
Chloe, trust and never fear;
.
You'll get justice in the kingdom,
.
If you do not get it here. [2] The Deliverance 2.
Master only left old Mistus
.
One bright and handsome boy;
.
But she fairly doted on him,
.
He was her pride and joy. 2.
We all liked Mister Thomas,
.
He was so kind at heart;
.
And when the young folkes got in scrapes,
.
He always took their part. 2.
He kept right on that very way
.
Till he got big and tall,
.
And old Mistus used to chide him
.
And say he'd spile us all. 2.
But somehow the farm did prosper
.
When he took things in hand;
.
And though all the servants liked him,
.
He made them understand. 2.
One evening Mister Thomas said,
.
"Just bring my easy shoes;
.
I am going to sit by mother,
.
And read her up the news." 2.
Soon I heard him tell old Mistus
.
We're bound to have a fight;
.
But we'll whip the Yankees, mother,
.
We'll whip them sure as night!" 2.
Then I saw old Mistus tremble;
.
She gasped and held her breath;
.
And she looked on Mister Thomas
.
With a face as pale as death. 2.
"They are firing on Fort Sumpter;
.
Oh! I wish that I was there! --
.
Why, dear mother! what's the matter?
.
You're the picture of despair." 2.
"I was thinking, dearest Thomas,
.
'Twould break my very heart
.
If a fierce and dreadful battle
.
Should tear our lives apart." 2.
"None but cowards, dearest mother,
.
Would skulk unto the rear,
.
When the tyrant's hand is shaking
.
All the heart is holding dear." 2.
I felt sorry for old Mistus;
.
She got too full to speak;
.
But I saw the great big tear-drops
.
A running down her cheek. 2.
Mister Thomas too was troubled
.
With choosing on that night,
.
Betwixt staying with his mother
.
And joining in the fight. 2.
Soon down into the village came
.
A call for volunteers;
.
Mistus gave up Mister Thomas,
.
With many sighs and tears. 2.
His uniform was real handsome;
.
He looked so brave and strong;
.
But somehow I could'nt help thinking
.
His fighting must be wrong. 2.
Though the house was very lonesome,
.
I thought 'twould all come right,
.
For I felt somehow or other
.
We was mixed up in that fight. 2.
And I said to Uncle Jacob,
.
"How old Mistus feels the sting,
.
For this parting with your children
.
Is a mighty dreadful thing." 2.
"Never mind," said Uncle Jacob,
.
"Just wait and watch and pray,
.
For I feel right sure and certain,
.
Slavery's bound to pass away; 2.
"Because I asked the Spirit,
.
If God is good and just,
.
How it happened that the masters
.
Did grind us to the dust. 2.
"And something reasoned right inside,
.
Such should not always be;
.
And you could not beat it out my head,
.
The Spirit spoke to me." 2.
And his dear old eyes would brighten,
.
And his lips put on a smile,
.
Saying, "Pick up faith and courage,
.
And just wait a little while." 2.
Mistus prayed up in the parlor,
.
That the Secesh all might win;
.
We were praying in the cabins,
.
Wanting freedom to begin. 2.
Mister Thomas wrote to Mistus,
.
Telling 'bout the Bull's Run fight,
.
That his troops had whipped the Yankees
.
And put them all to flight. 2.
Mistus' eyes did fairly glisten;
.
She laughed and praised the South,
.
But I thought some day she'd laugh
.
On tother side her mouth. 2.
I used to watch old Mistus' face,
.
And when it looked quite long
.
I would say to Cousin Milly,
.
The battle's going wrong; 2.
Not for us, but for the Rebels. --
.
My heart would fairly skip,
.
When Uncle Jacob used to say,
.
"The North is bound to whip." 2.
And let the fight go as it would --
.
Let North or South prevail --
.
He always kept his courage up,
.
And never let it fail. 2.
And he often used to tell us,
.
"Children, don't forget to pray;
.
For the darkest time of morning
.
Is just 'fore the break of day." 2.
Well, one morning bright and early
.
We heard the fife and drum,
.
And the booming of the cannon --
.
The Yankee troops had come. 2.
When the word ran through the village,
.
The colored folks are free --
.
In the kitchens and the cabins
.
We held a jubilee. 2.
When they told us Mister Lincoln
.
Said that slavery was dead,
.
We just poured our prayers and blessings
.
Upon his precious head. 2.
We just laughed, and danced, and shouted
.
And prayed, and sang, and cried,
.
And we thought dear Uncle Jacob
.
Would fairly crack his side. 2.
But when old Mistus heard it,
.
She groaned and hardly spoke;
.
When she had to lose her servants,
.
Her heart was almost broke. 2.
'Twas a sight to see our people
.
Going out, the troops to meet,
.
Almost dancing to the music,
.
And marching down the street. 2.
After years of pain and parting,
.
Our chains was broke in two,
.
And we was so mighty happy,
.
We didn't know what to do. 2.
But we soon got used to freedom,
.
Though the way at first was rough;
.
But we weathered through the tempest,
.
For slavery made us tough. 2.
But we had one awful sorrow,
.
It almost turned my head,
.
When a mean and wicked cretur
.
Shot Mister Lincoln dead. 2.
'Twas a dreadful solemn morning,
.
I just staggered on my feet;
.
And the women they were crying
.
And screaming in the street. 2.
But if many prayers and blessings
.
Could bear him to the throne,
.
I should think when Mister Lincoln died,
.
That heaven just got its own. 2.
Then we had another President, --
.
What do you call his name?
.
Well, if the colored folks forget him
.
They would'nt be much to blame. 2.
We thought he'd be the Moses
.
Of all the colored race;
.
But when the Rebels pressed us hard
.
He never showed his face. 2.
But something must have happened him,
.
Right curi's I'll be bound,
.
'Cause I heard 'em talking 'bout a circle
.
That he was swinging round. 2.
But everything will pass away --
.
He went like time and tide --
.
And when the next election came
.
They let poor Andy slide. 2.
But now we have a President,
.
And if I was a man
.
I'd vote for him for breaking up
.
The wicked Ku-Klux Klan. 2.
And if any man should ask me
.
If I would sell my vote,
.
I'd tell him I was not the one
.
To change and turn my coat; 2.
If freedom seem'd a little rough
.
I'd weather through the gale;
.
And as to buying up my vote,
.
I hadn't it for sale. 2.
I do not think I'd ever be
.
As slack as Jonas Handy;
.
Because I heard he sold his vote
.
For just three sticks of candy. 2.
But when John Thomas Reeder brought
.
His wife some flour and meat,
.
And told he had sold his vote
.
For something good to eat, 2.
You ought to seen Aunt Kitty raise,
.
And heard her blaze away;
.
She gave the meat and flour a toss,
.
And said they should not stay. 2.
And I should think he felt quite cheap
.
For voting the wrong side;
.
And when Aunt Kitty scolded him,
.
He just stood up and cried. 2.
But the worst fooled man I ever saw,
.
Was when poor David Rand
.
Sold out for flour and sugar;
.
The sugar was mixed with sand. 2.
I'll tell you how the thing got out;
.
His wife had company,
.
And she thought the sand was sugar,
.
And served it up for tea. 2.
When David sipped and sipped the tea,
.
Somehow it didn't taste right;
.
I guess when he found he was sipping sand
.
He was mad enough to fight. 2.
The sugar looked so nice and white --
.
It was spread some inches deep --
.
But underneath was a lot of sand;
.
Such sugar is mighty cheap. 2.
You'd laughed to seen Lucinda Grange
.
Upon her husband's track;
.
When he sold his vote for rations
.
She made him take 'em back. 2.
Day after day did Milly Green
.
Just follow after Joe,
.
And told him if he voted wrong
.
To take his rags and go. 2.
I think that Samuel Johnson said
.
His side had won the day,
.
Had not we women radicals
.
Just got right in the way. 2.
And yet I would not have you think
.
That all our men are shabby;
.
But 'tis said in every flock of sheep
.
There will be one that's scabby. 2.
I've heard, before election came
.
They tried to buy John Slade;
.
But he gave them all to understand
.
That he wasn't in that trade. 2.
And we've got lots of other men
.
Who rally round the cause,
.
And go for holding up the hands
.
That gave us equal laws, 2.
Who know their freedom cost too much
.
Of blood and pain and treasure,
.
For them to fool away their votes
.
For profit or for pleasure. [3] Aunt Chloe's Politics 3.
Of course, I don't know very much
.
About these politics,
.
But I think that some who run 'em,
.
Do mighty ugly tricks. 3.
I've seen 'em honey-fugle round,
.
And talk so awful sweet,
.
That you'd think them full of kindness
.
As an egg is full of meat. 3.
Now I don't believe in looking
.
Honest people in the face,
.
And saying when you're doing wrong,
.
That 'I haven't sold my race.' 3.
When we want to school our children,
.
If the money isn't there,
.
Whether black or white have took it,
.
The loss we all must share. 3.
And this buying up each other
.
Is something worse than mean,
.
Though I thinks a heap of voting,
.
I go for voting clean. [4] Learning to Read 4.
Very soon the Yankee teachers
.
Came down and set up school;
.
But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it, --
.
It was agin' their rule. 4.
Our masters always tried to hide
.
Book learning from our eyes;
.
Knowledge did'nt agree with slavery --
.
'Twould make us all too wise. 4.
But some of us would try to steal
.
A little from the book,
.
And put the words together,
.
And learn by hook or crook. 4.
I remember Uncle Caldwell,
.
Who took pot liquor fat
.
And greased the pages of his book,
.
And hid it in his hat. 4.
And had his master ever seen
.
The leaves upon his head,
.
He'd have thought them greasy papers,
.
But nothing to be read. 4.
And there was Mr. Turner's Ben,
.
Who heard the children spell,
.
And picked the words right up by heart,
.
And learned to read 'em well. 4.
Well, the Northern folks kept sending
.
The Yankee teachers down;
.
And they stood right up and helped us,
.
Though Rebs did sneer and frown. 4.
And I longed to read my Bible,
.
For precious words it said;
.
But when I begun to learn it,
.
Folks just shook their heads, 4.
And said there is no use trying,
.
Oh! Chloe, you're too late;
.
But as I was rising sixty,
.
I had no time to wait. 4.
So I got a pair of glasses,
.
And straight to work I went,
.
And never stopped till I could read
.
The hymns and Testament. 4.
Then I got a little cabin
.
A place to call my own --
.
And I felt as independent
.
As the queen upon her throne. [5] Church Building 5.
Uncle Jacob often told us,
.
Since freedom blessed our race
.
We ought all to come together
.
And build a meeting place. 5.
So we pinched, and scraped, and spared,
.
A little here and there:
.
Though our wages was but scanty,
.
The church did get a share. 5.
And, when the house was finished,
.
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
.
He was looking mighty feeble,
.
And his head was awful gray. 5.
But his voice rang like a trumpet;
.
His eyes looked bright and young;
.
And it seemed a mighty power
.
Was resting on his tongue. 5.
And he gave us all his blessing --
.
'Twas parting words he said,
.
For soon we got the message
.
The dear old man was dead. 5.
But I believe he's in the kingdom,
.
For when we shook his hand
.
He said, "Children, you must meet me
.
Right in the promised land; 5.
"For when I done a moiling
.
And toiling here below,
.
Through the gate into the city
.
Straightway I hope to go." [6] The Reunion 6.
Well, one morning real early
.
I was going down the street,
.
And I heard a stranger asking
.
For Missis Chloe Fleet. 6.
There was something in his voice
.
That made me feel quite shaky.
.
And when I looked right in his face,
.
Who should it be but Jakey! 6.
I grasped him tight, and took him home --
.
What gladness filled my cup!
.
And I laughed, and just rolled over,
.
And laughed, and just give up. 6.
"Where have you been? O Jakey, dear!
.
Why didn't you come before?
.
Oh! when you children went away
.
My heart was awful sore." 6.
"Why, mammy, I've been on your hunt
.
Since ever I've been free,
.
And I have heard from brother Ben, --
.
He's down in Tennessee. 6.
"He wrote me that he had a wife,"
.
"And children?" "Yes, he's three."
.
"You married, too?" "Oh, no, indeed,
.
I thought I'd first get free." 6.
"Then, Jakey, you will stay with me,
.
And comfort my poor heart;
.
Old Mistus got no power now
.
To tear us both apart. 6.
"I'm richer now than Mistus,
.
Because I have got my son;
.
And Mister Thomas he is dead,
.
And she's nary one. 6.
"You must write to brother Benny
.
That he must come this fall,
.
And we'll make the cabin bigger,
.
And that will hold us all. 6.
"Tell him I want to see 'em all
.
Before my life do cease:
.
And then, like good old Simeon,
.
I hope to die in peace."
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Deliverance
Master only left old Mistus
One bright and handsome boy;
But she fairly doted on him,
He was her pride and joy.
We all liked Mister Thomas,
He was so kind at heart;
And when the young folkes got in scrapes,
He always took their part.
He kept right on that very way
Till he got big and tall,
And old Mistus used to chide him
And say he'd spile us all.
But somehow the farm did prosper
When he took things in hand;
And though all the servants liked him,
He made them understand.
One evening Mister Thomas said,
'Just bring my easy shoes;
I am going to sit by mother,
And read her up the news.'
Soon I heard him tell old Mistus
We're bound to have a fight;
But we'll whip the Yankees, mother,
We'll whip them sure as night!'
Then I saw old Mistus tremble;
She gasped and held her breath;
And she looked on Mister Thomas
With a face as pale as death.
'They are firing on Fort Sumpter;
Oh! I wish that I was there! -
Why, dear mother! what's the matter?
You're the picture of despair.'
'I was thinking, dearest Thomas,
'Twould break my very heart
If a fierce and dreadful battle
Should tear our lives apart.'
'None but cowards, dearest mother,
Would skulk unto the rear,
When the tyrant's hand is shaking
All the heart is holding dear.'
I felt sorry for old Mistus;
She got too full to speak;
But I saw the great big tear-drops
A running down her cheek.
Mister Thomas too was troubled
With choosing on that night,
Betwixt staying with his mother
And joining in the fight.
Soon down into the village came
A call for volunteers;
Mistus gave up Mister Thomas,
With many sighs and tears.
His uniform was real handsome;
He looked so brave and strong;
But somehow I could'nt help thinking
His fighting must be wrong.
Though the house was very lonesome,
I thought 'twould all come right,
For I felt somehow or other
We was mixed up in that fight.
And I said to Uncle Jacob,
'How old Mistus feels the sting,
For this parting with your children
Is a mighty dreadful thing.'
'Never mind,' said Uncle Jacob,
'Just wait and watch and pray,
For I feel right sure and certain,
Slavery's bound to pass away;
'Because I asked the Spirit,
If God is good and just,
How it happened that the masters
Did grind us to the dust.
'And something reasoned right inside,
Such should not always be;
And you could not beat it out my head,
The Spirit spoke to me.'
And his dear old eyes would brighten,
And his lips put on a smile,
Saying, 'Pick up faith and courage,
And just wait a little while.'
Mistus prayed up in the parlor,
That the Secesh all might win;
We were praying in the cabins,
Wanting freedom to begin.
Mister Thomas wrote to Mistus,
Telling 'bout the Bull's Run fight,
That his troops had whipped the Yankees
And put them all to flight.
Mistus' eyes did fairly glisten;
She laughed and praised the South,
But I thought some day she'd laugh
On tother side her mouth.
I used to watch old Mistus' face,
And when it looked quite long
I would say to Cousin Milly,
The battle's going wrong;
Not for us, but for the Rebels. -
My heart would fairly skip,
When Uncle Jacob used to say,
'The North is bound to whip.'
And let the fight go as it would -
Let North or South prevail -
He always kept his courage up,
And never let it fail.
And he often used to tell us,
'Children, don't forget to pray;
For the darkest time of morning
Is just 'fore the break of day.'
Well, one morning bright and early
We heard the fife and drum,
And the booming of the cannon -
The Yankee troops had come.
When the word ran through the village,
The colored folks are free -
In the kitchens and the cabins
We held a jubilee.
When they told us Mister Lincoln
Said that slavery was dead,
We just poured our prayers and blessings
Upon his precious head.
We just laughed, and danced, and shouted
And prayed, and sang, and cried,
And we thought dear Uncle Jacob
Would fairly crack his side.
But when old Mistus heard it,
She groaned and hardly spoke;
When she had to lose her servants,
Her heart was almost broke.
'Twas a sight to see our people
Going out, the troops to meet,
Almost dancing to the music,
And marching down the street.
After years of pain and parting,
Our chains was broke in two,
And we was so mighty happy,
We didn't know what to do.
But we soon got used to freedom,
Though the way at first was rough;
But we weathered through the tempest,
For slavery made us tough.
But we had one awful sorrow,
It almost turned my head,
When a mean and wicked cretur
Shot Mister Lincoln dead.
'Twas a dreadful solemn morning,
I just staggered on my feet;
And the women they were crying
And screaming in the street.
But if many prayers and blessings
Could bear him to the throne,
I should think when Mister Lincoln died,
That heaven just got its own.
Then we had another President, -
What do you call his name?
Well, if the colored folks forget him
They would'nt be much to blame.
We thought he'd be the Moses
Of all the colored race;
But when the Rebels pressed us hard
He never showed his face.
But something must have happened him,
Right curi's I'll be bound,
'Cause I heard 'em talking 'bout a circle
That he was swinging round.
But everything will pass away -
He went like time and tide -
And when the next election came
They let poor Andy slide.
But now we have a President,
And if I was a man
I'd vote for him for breaking up
The wicked Ku-Klux Klan.
And if any man should ask me
If I would sell my vote,
I'd tell him I was not the one
To change and turn my coat;
If freedom seem'd a little rough
I'd weather through the gale;
And as to buying up my vote,
I hadn't it for sale.
I do not think I'd ever be
As slack as Jonas Handy;
Because I heard he sold his vote
For just three sticks of candy.
But when John Thomas Reeder brought
His wife some flour and meat,
And told he had sold his vote
For something good to eat,
You ought to seen Aunt Kitty raise,
And heard her blaze away;
She gave the meat and flour a toss,
And said they should not stay.
And I should think he felt quite cheap
For voting the wrong side;
And when Aunt Kitty scolded him,
He just stood up and cried.
But the worst fooled man I ever saw,
Was when poor David Rand
Sold out for flour and sugar;
The sugar was mixed with sand.
I'll tell you how the thing got out;
His wife had company,
And she thought the sand was sugar,
And served it up for tea.
When David sipped and sipped the tea,
Somehow it didn't taste right;
I guess when he found he was sipping sand
He was mad enough to fight.
The sugar looked so nice and white -
It was spread some inches deep -
But underneath was a lot of sand;
Such sugar is mighty cheap.
You'd laughed to seen Lucinda Grange
Upon her husband's track;
When he sold his vote for rations
She made him take 'em back.
Day after day did Milly Green
Just follow after Joe,
And told him if he voted wrong
To take his rags and go.
I think that Samuel Johnson said
His side had won the day,
Had not we women radicals
Just got right in the way.
And yet I would not have you think
That all our men are shabby;
But 'tis said in every flock of sheep
There will be one that's scabby.
I've heard, before election came
They tried to buy John Slade;
But he gave them all to understand
That he wasn't in that trade.
And we've got lots of other men
Who rally round the cause,
And go for holding up the hands
That gave us equal laws,
Who know their freedom cost too much
Of blood and pain and treasure,
For them to fool away their votes
For profit or for pleasure.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As My Uncle Used To Say
I've thought a power on men and things,
As my uncle ust to say,--
And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_,
As my uncle ust to say.
They's some don't know their A, B, Cs,
As my uncle ust to say,
And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
Ner whistle their lives away!
But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
No ringin' song fer to last all time,
They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
As my uncle ust to say.
Whoever's Foreman of all things here,
As my uncle ust to say,
He knows each job 'at we 're best fit fer,
And our round-up, night and day:
And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west,
And north and south, and worst and best
I ain't got nothin' to suggest,
As my uncle ust to say.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lord's Scepter Shall Never Depart
God chose the man Abram to start his plan of reconciliation,
He believed and his descendents would be a mighty little nation.
When God first spoke to Abram, he told him to leave his relations,
Later changing his name to Abraham, as the father of many nations.
For through his seed God would bless all the nations of the earth,
Later Isaiah prophesied this seed would come through a virgin birth.
From the tribe of Judah the Lord's Scepter shall never depart,
True Words spoken by Isaac’s son Jacob, right from his heart.
This was Jacob's blessing to his son Judah at his departure,
Spoke for the Father of All Nations, Judah couldn't be any surer.
God began to fulfill His promise with one of Judah's very own,
For through King David He would establish an everlasting throne.
God used his son Solomon to build a temple in Jerusalem for The Lord.
Through Nathan, God told David that his Kingdom would forever endure.
Although the Kingdom grew great under Solomon, his heart turned away,
So God tore away the Kingdom, but for David's sake Judah He let stay.
It will be The Lion of Judah, who fulfills the promise of The Lord,
It is under Christ, The Son of David, that the land will be restored.
However, many countries will be left out of God's plan of Salvation,
For they have harbored hatred and despised this tiny little nation.
(Copyright © 04/2002)
Perhaps Today
Perhaps today, in the open sky above beyond the oceans gentle shore,
Perhaps today, from the clouds above we will hear that Blessed horn.
For the Church will hear the angel shout and the trumpet call of God,
And all alive in Christ will be lifted from this earth's lowly sod,
Perhaps today, we'll see the very one who has been Eternally Adored,
Perhaps today, up in the clouds we'll meet our Glorious Blessed Lord.
For those who died in Christ shall rise first at that Glorious sound,
Their bodies to be resurrected as they're extracted from the ground.
Perhaps today, through His Mighty Power and His Loving Eternal Grace,
Perhaps today, with all who went before us we'll see His Loving face.
When we hear the trumpet we know that we are at the end of the race,
We will share the prize and see The Author and Finisher of our faith.
Perhaps today, when the Glorious Trumpet of our God above resounds,
Perhaps today, with all of our loved ones we'll be up in the clouds.
Regarding the rapture we shouldn't stay quiet according to The Word,
Paul says encourage one another and share with all who haven't heard.
Perhaps today, in the twinkling of an eye we'll see heaven's portal,
Perhaps today, this earthly body will be changed into one immortal.
As you long for His return and you ponder for the right words to say,
The words in your heart will burn as you openly reply Perhaps today.
Psalm 77 part 2
Comfort derived from ancient providences.
"How awful is thy chast'ning rod!"
May thy own children say:
"The great, the wise, the dreadful God!
How holy is his way !"
I'll meditate his works of old,
The King that reigns above;
I'll hear his ancient wonders told,
And learn to trust his love.
Long did the house of Joseph lie
With Egypt's yoke oppressed;
Long he delayed to hear their cry,
or gave his people rest.
The sons of good old Jacob seemed
Abandoned to their foes;
But his almighty arm redeemed
The nation that he chose.
Isr'el, his people and his sheep,
Must follow where he calls;
He bade them venture through the deep,
And made the waves their walls.
The waters saw thee, mighty God!
The waters saw thee come;
Backward they fled, and frighted stood,
To make thine armies room.
Strange was thy journey through the sea
Thy footsteps, Lord, unknown;
Terrors attend the wondrous way
That brings thy mercies down.
[Thy voice, with terror in the sound,
Through clouds and darkness broke;
All heav'n in lightning shone around,
And earth with thunder shook.
Thine arrows through the skies were hurled;
How glorious is the Lord!
Surprise and trembling seized the world,
And his own saints adored.
He gave them water from the rock,
And safe, by Moses' hand,
Through a dry desert led his flock
Home to the promised land.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Let Us Pray
(words & music by b. kaye - b. weisman)
Come praise the lord for he is good
Mmm come join in love and brotherhood
Well hear the word and bring our gifts of bread and wine
And well be blessed beneath the sign
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
When strangers reach out for your hand (for your hand)
Respond to them and understand (heaven obeyed to understand)
Well rise as one to calm the storm outside the gate (calm the storm)
With faith in him well never leave (never leave)
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
(well rejoice)
The love of God is on our side (love is, love is on our side)
We have the strength to move the tide (well move the tide)
The world will say so, therell be peace and love for all (love for all)
And we must give our brothers love
So let us pray together, pray together
Pray with the one mighty voice (heavenly voice)
And let us sing together, sing together
Pray and well rejoice (well rejoice)
Love for all, love for all to the lord
Well rejoice love for all to the lord
Well rejoice love for all to the lord
Well rejoice for the lord
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Loss of the Emigrants
The Steamer ' Atlantic ' Was Wrecked Near Halifax, N. S., April1, 1873, And 560 Lives Lost.
FOR months and years, with penury and want
And heart-sore envy did they dare to cope;
And mite by mite was saved from earnings scant,
To buy, some future day, the God-sent hope.
They trod the crowded streets of hoary towns,
Or tilled from year to year the wearied fields,
And in the shadow of the golden crowns
They gasped for sunshine and the health it yields.
They turned from homes all cheerless, child and man,
With kindly feelings only for the soil,
And for the kindred faces, pinched and wan,
That prayed, and stayed, unwilling, at their toil.
They lifted up their faces to the Lord,
And read His answer in the westering sun
That called them ever as a shining word,
And beckoned seaward as the rivers run.
They looked their last, wet-eyed, on Swedish hills,
On German villages and English dales;
Like brooks that grow from many mountain rills
The peasant-stream flowed out from Irish vales.
Their grief at parting was not all a grief,
But blended sweetly with the joy to come,
When from full store they spared the rich relief
To gladden all the dear ones left at home.
'We thank thee, God!' they cried; 'The cruel gate
That barred our lives has swung beneath Thy hand;
Behind our ship now frowns the cruel fate,
Before her smiles the teeming Promised Land!'
Alas! when shown in mercy or in wrath,
How weak we are to read God's awful lore!
His breath protected on the stormy path,
And dashed them lifeless on the promised shore!
His hand sustained them in the parting woe,
And gave bright vision to the heart of each
His waters bore them where they wished to go,
Then swept them seaward from the very beach!
Their home is reached, their fetters now are riven,
Their humble toil is o'er,—their rest has come;
A land was promised and a land is given,—
But, oh! God help the waiting ones at home!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Uncle Toad Said
Uncle toad sittin by the old south gate
Waitin them boys they bin stayin out late
Uncle toad thinks theyre way out of line
Maybe they think he is past his prime
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad lived in the wood out back
Lived in the shade of a utility shack
He looked in at the big brick housr
At the girls as quiet as a mouse
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad tucked in the compost pile
Out by the back door look at him smile
He said kid stop drinkin that brew
Plan while ya can or the jokes on you
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the swimmin pool
Sits in the sun when the weather turns cool
Sits in the sun when the girls walk by
Maybe they think hes a little bit sly
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the cool mill race
All day long with a grin on his face
He said boys you had better not try
Kissin em girls cause I wont stand by
Uncle toad sittin by the wrought iron fence
Lookin at the moon like it dont make sense
We say toad heres lookin at you
Hopin you get your wish too
Sway to the left, sway to the right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Dearest
My Guiding Light
Fatherly
Uncle Dearest
My guiding light
Encouraging words
Keeping watchful eye
From distance
Uncle Dearest
Connected not by blood
From motherland
Protecting
Watching my back
Mindful of past experience
An uncle, advisor and friend
In happiness and sorrow
A bond stronger
Acid tongues can't melt away
Talented poet and author
A man of note
Humble and kind
Have my praise
Conversation
Happy laughter in voice
Providing comfort
Though seen only on screen
Concern for well being
Of distant niece
Keeping big bad wolf at bay
No second chance
For their awful schemes
Uncle Dearest
Has eagle's eye
Hugs to my bright guiding light
Uncle Dearest
poem by Persian Khushi
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Sorrow
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
In scarlet and in luxury but more than pains,
In the City called Adam with no glory,
To the fields of swords and to the fields of sorrow with words!
For, the mighty one fell with a clue,
And like the dead of many in the land of mines.
Tell me, how beautiful were your tents? ! !
Upon the throne of the kingdom and of words;
For, in the spring timew of the year came the war.
This blow is swifter than the claws of the eagles!
And, it is also stronger than the lonely lion in the thick forest of Africa;
But, like the poor man's little lamb in the land of trouble.
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
On the crags of the wild goats with honey and butter;
But, with one little ewe lamb to walk across.
My legs are like the legs of the deer in the forest of hope!
But, in the fields of sorrow are many dead bodies;
And, the City called Adam is now with no glory.
Oh, how the great one has fallen!
In the cave of jealousy with words of sorrow;
But, out of many waters without a view! !
And like the scarlet and the luxury to the sword.
Oh, that somebody would guide and give me a drink of water! !
From the wells of Bethlehem with the sign of hope;
For, there are many dead bodies already in the land of mines.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Bond Made In Heaven
we have a unique bond,
strengthened over a period of time,
over four years to be exact.
a gentleman,
an uncle in a million.
a great poet,
a friend,
and an advisor,
I am truly blessed
with the best uncle anyone could wish for
a man of compassion
for whom I have great respect
my uncle dearest
and I his niece
never a word out of place
thank you Uncle dearest
for keeping me in prayers
and always wishing for me the best
poem by Persian Khushi
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Uncle’s Car Key
A single key in a little bunch
The key to life it is not
So little a key but have this punch
When uncle’s blood is hot.
Some men I know can lend this key
But some are worse to stand
A friend it is that lets me be
But uncle’s spite must land
This key to Golf I turned upwards
And got rains of hot words
My uncle raved and ranted as hell
In words thoughtful as they tell
This his point was stressed again
As the old year passed with glee
My resolution strong and comes like train
To avoid uncle’s car key
poem by Tonimario Onyedika Oboshi
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Uncle's Shave.
Uncle’s Shave.
You used to watch Uncle
shave in front of the small mirror
propped on the edge
of the kitchen sink,
his face lathered
in white soap,
his cutthroat razor
held just a short distance
from his skin
by his right hand,
as the other hand
held the skin taut
in preparation
of the razor’s slide.
You stood behind
fascinated,
your young eyes
searching the mirror’s world
of Uncle’s face
and the performers start.
Uncle watched you
in the mirror,
his lips breaking
into a small smile,
the razor held
just above his ear,
his eyes staring above
the shaving foam,
taking in
your fascinated gaze,
the open mouth,
your hands copying
Uncle’s motion
in pretend shave.
Uncle drew the razor down
his cheek in slow motion,
the face becoming visible
as the soap gave way,
the hand dipping
the razor in water
to rid of foam,
to begin again,
more soap removed,
more skin revealed.
You copied Uncle,
but not so skilled.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Mystery of Israel
This is the mystery of Israel, and how they fit into God’s will.
God met with this man Abram, when this man had not a son.
He told him to leave his kin, and go to a place He’d show him.
His name changed to Abraham, for he’d be given many lands.
God told him he’d have a son, when he and Sarah had no one.
Then Abraham simply gasped, while his wife Sarah laughed.
So Sarah decided to use Hagar, although God played no part.
Hagar and Abraham had a son, but he wasn’t the chosen one.
Abraham’s first son was Ishmael, but he was of a human deal.
For Abraham’s other son Isaac, was the one God would pick.
And it was Isaac’s son Jacob, who was the one that God loved.
Jacob wrestled with God’s will, and his named became Israel.
And this is the name of the land, that God promised Abraham.
God said He’d bless each nation, through Abraham’s situation.
Then the Jews entered the land, under Joshua and God’s Hand.
But they would anger The Lord, when His decrees they ignored.
God for a time turned from them, with His Covenant for all men.
Israel’s been hardened for awhile, as God includes the Gentile.
The Jew and Gentile are now one, under the Blood of God’s Son.
And Israel will receive her land, under the rule of The Son of Man.
God Spoke Through The Ages
God spoke to Adam and Eve; they then by Satan were deceived,
And then they both had to leave, the Paradise they had received.
Enoch walked with God in his day, then by God was taken away,
Taken away from the earth he trod, into the very presence of God.
Noah was told about all the dark, and that he had to build the ark,
So God could save Noah’s family, from the flood that all would see.
Abraham was told by God to leave, as he was one who did believe.
So he packed up and left his land, trusting in God’s heart and hand.
Jacob had wrestled with the Lord; it was for a blessing he implored,
And he would not let go of God, until he received His Gracious nod.
God had given Moses the call, to climb up Sinai to receive the Law,
To guide God’s people to the land, that God promised to Abraham.
God spoke to other prophets too, so men accepted what they knew,
And God continued to speak to all, to redeem man from Adam’s fall.
Through the many prophets of old, God’s message to men foretold,
In time He would reach every nation, with His Grace and Salvation.
God chose in these last days, to speak through Christ to His Praise,
He sent Jesus to fulfill The Word, many priests and prophets heard.
His Son came to be the sacrifice, so men could inherit Eternal Life.
So believe in The Words of Christ, and you will enter into Paradise.
(Copyright ©09/2005)
Saltbush Bill on the Patriarchs
Come all you little rouseabouts and climb upon my knee;
To-day, you see, is Christmas Day, and so it’s up to me
To give you some instruction like—a kind of Christmas tale—
So name your yarn, and off she goes. What, “Jonah and the Whale”?
Well, whales is sheep I’ve never shore; I’ve never been to sea,
So all them great Leviathans is mysteries to me;
But there’s a tale the Bible tells I fully understand,
About the time the Patriarchs were settling on the land.
Those Patriarchs of olden time, when all is said and done,
They lived the same as far-out men on many a Queensland run—
A lot of roving, droving men who drifted to and fro,
The same we did out Queensland way a score of years ago.
Now Isaac was a squatter man, and Jacob was his son,
And when the boy grew up, you see, he wearied of the run.
You know the way that boys grow up—there’s some that stick at home;
But any boy that’s worth his salt will roll his swag and roam.
So Jacob caught the roving fit and took the drovers’ track
To where his uncle had a run, beyond the outer back;
You see they made for out-back runs for room to stretch and grow,
The same we did out Queensland way a score of years ago.
Now, Jacob knew the ways of stock—that’s most uncommon clear—
For when he got to Laban’s Run, they made him overseer;
He didn’t ask a pound a week, but bargained for his pay
To take the roan and strawberry calves—the same we’d take to-day.
The duns and blacks and “Goulburn roans” (that’s brindles), coarse and hard,
He branded them with Laban’s brand, in Old Man Laban’s yard;
So, when he’d done the station work for close on seven year,
Why, all the choicest stock belonged to Laban’s overseer.
It’s often so with overseers—I’ve seen the same thing done
By many a Queensland overseer on many a Queensland run.
But when the mustering time came on old Laban acted straight,
And gave him country of his own outside the boundary gate.
He gave him stock, and offered him his daughter’s hand in troth;
And Jacob first he married one, and then he married both;
You see, they weren’t particular about a wife or so—
No more were we up Queensland way a score of years ago.
But when the stock were strong and fat with grass and lots of rain,
Then Jacob felt the call to take the homeward road again.
It’s strange in every creed and clime, no matter where you roam,
There comes a day when every man would like to make for home.
So off he set with sheep and goats, a mighty moving band,
To battle down the homeward track along the Overland—
It’s droving mixed-up mobs like that that makes men cut their throats.
I’ve travelled rams, which Lord forget, but never travelled goats.
But Jacob knew the ways of stock, for (so the story goes)
When battling through the Philistines—selectors, I suppose—
He thought he’d have to fight his way, an awkward sort of job;
So what did Old Man Jacob do? of course, he split the mob.
He sent the strong stock on ahead to battle out the way;
He couldn’t hurry lambing ewes—no more you could to-day—
And down the road, from run to run, his hand ’gainst every hand,
He moved that mighty mob of stock across the Overland.
The thing is made so clear and plain, so solid in and out,
There isn’t any room at all for any kind of doubt.
It’s just a plain straightforward tale—a tale that lets you know
The way they lived in Palestine three thousand years ago.
It’s strange to read it all to-day, the shifting of the stock;
You’d think you see the caravans that loaf behind the flock,
The little donkeys and the mules, the sheep that slowly spread,
And maybe Dan or Naphthali a-ridin’ on ahead.
The long, dry, dusty summer days, the smouldering fires at night;
The stir and bustle of the camp at break of morning light;
The little kids that skipped about, the camels’ dead-slow tramp—
I wish I’d done a week or two in Old Man Jacob’s camp!
But if I keep the narrer path, some day, perhaps, I’ll know
How Jacob bred them strawberry calves three thousand years ago.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Chango
Chango!
Chango!
The bear (? )
I come up the river
Like beat man
I come up the river
Like skoke man fly
I come up the river
To kill many people
I come up the river
With laser gun
Dear uncle, dear uncle, dear uncle
Dear uncle, dear uncle
Your son just had intercourse
With baggy breast
Your son just had intercourse
With death debbie
My mommy didnt hold me when I was young
She didnt give me breast
And went insane
My mommy didnt hold me when I was young
She didnt give me breast
And went insane
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin Hood, A Child.
It was the pleasant season yet,
When the stones at cottage doors
Dry quickly, while the roads are wet,
After the silver showers.
The green leaves they looked greener still,
And the thrush, renewing his tune,
Shook a loud note from his gladsome bill
Into the bright blue noon.
Robin Hood's mother looked out, and said
"It were a shame and a sin
For fear of getting a wet head
To keep such a day within,
Nor welcome up from his sick bed
Your uncle Gamelyn."
And Robin leaped, and thought so too;
And so he has grasped her gown,
And now looking back, they have lost the view
Of merry sweet Locksley town.
Robin was a gentle boy,
And therewithal as bold;
To say he was his mother's joy,
It were a phrase too cold.
His hair upon his thoughtful brow
Came smoothly clipped, and sleek,
But ran into a curl somehow
Beside his merrier cheek.
Great love to him his uncle too
The noble Gamelyn bare,
And often said, as his mother knew,
That he should be his heir.
Gamelyn's eyes, now getting dim,
Would twinkle at his sight,
And his ruddy wrinkles laugh at him
Between his locks so white:
For Robin already let him see
He should beat his playmates all
At wrestling, running, and archery,
Yet he cared not for a fall.
Merriest he was of merry boys,
And would set the old helmets bobbing;
If his uncle asked about the noise,
'Twas "If you please, Sir, Robin."
And yet if the old man wished no noise,
He'd come and sit at his knee,
And be the gravest of grave-eyed boys;
And not a word spoke he.
So whenever he and his mother came
To brave old Gamelyn Hall,
'Twas nothing there but sport and game,
And holiday folks all:
The servants never were to blame,
Though they let the physic fall.
And now the travellers turn the road,
And now they hear the rooks;
And there it is, — the old abode,
With all its hearty looks.
Robin laughed, and the lady too,
And they looked at one another;
Says Robin, "I'll knock, as I'm used to do,
At uncle's window, mother."
And so he pick'd up some pebbles and ran,
And jumping higher and higher,
He reach'd the windows with tan a ran tan,
And instead of the kind old white-haired man,
There looked out a fat friar.
"How now," said the fat friar angrily,
"What is this knocking so wild?"
But when he saw young Robin's eye,
He said "Go round, my child.
"Go round to the hall, and I'll tell you all."
"He'll tell us all!" thought Robin;
And his mother and he went quietly,
Though her heart was set a throbbing.
The friar stood in the inner door,
And tenderly said, "I fear
You know not the good squire's no more,
Even Gamelyn de Vere.
"Gamelyn de Vere is dead,
He changed but yesternight:"
"Now make us way," the lady said,
"To see that doleful sight."
"Good Gamelyn de Vere is dead,
And has made us his holy heirs:"
The lady stayed not for all he said,
But went weeping up the stairs.
Robin and she went hand in hand,
Weeping all the way,
Until they came where the lord of that land
Dumb in his cold bed lay.
His hand she took, and saw his dead look,
With the lids over each eye-ball;
And Robin and she wept as plenteously,
As though he had left them all.
"I will return, Sir Abbot of Vere,
I will return as is meet,
And see my honoured brother dear
Laid in his winding sheet.
And I will stay, for to go were a sin,
For all a woman's tears,
And see the noble Gamelyn
Laid low with the De Veres."
The lady went with a sick heart out
Into the kind fresh air,
And told her Robin all about
The abbot whom he saw there:
And how his uncle must have been
Disturbed in his failing sense,
To leave his wealth to these artful men,
At her's and Robin's expense.
Sad was the stately day for all
But the Vere Abbey friars,
When the coffin was stript of its hiding pall,
Amidst the hushing choirs.
Sad was the earth-dropping "dust to dust,"
And "our brother here departed;"
The lady shook at them, as shake we must,
And Robin he felt strange-hearted.
That self-same evening, nevertheless,
They returned to Locksley town,
The lady in a dumb distress,
And Robin looking down.
They went, and went, and Robin took
Long steps by his mother's side,
Till she asked him with a sad sweet look
What made him so thoughtful-eyed.
"I was thinking, mother," said little Robin,
And with his own voice so true
He spoke right out, "That if I was a king,
I'd see what those friars do."
His mother stooped with a tear of joy,
And she kissed him again and again,
And said, "My own little Robin boy,
Thou wilt be a King of Men!"
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
poem by Kenneth T. Schofield
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