Be Thankful
Be happy that you have another day
To enjoy all your treasures and say,
"Thank You" to an Almighty who loves you so
That despite your frailties you must know
Your salvation is His concern…
So thank Him with your actions in return.
Only then will eternal life
Ensure your happiness from earthly strife.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Hymn 84
Salvation, righteousness, and strength in Christ.
Isa. 45:21-25.
Jehovah speaks! let Isr'el hear;
Let all the earth rejoice and fear,
While God's eternal Son proclaims
His sovereign honors and his names.
"I am the last, and I the first,
The Savior God, and God the just;
There's none beside pretends to show
Such justice and salvation too.
["Ye that in shades of darkness dwell,
Just on the verge of death and hell,
Look up to me from distant lands;
Light, life, and heav'n are in my hands.
"I by my holy name have sworn,
Nor shall the word in vain return;
To me shall all things bend the knee,
And every tongue shall swear to me.]
"In me alone shall men confess
Lies all their strength and righteousness;
But such as dare despise my name,
I'll clothe them with eternal shame.
"In me, the Lord, shall all the seed
Of Isr'el from their sins be freed;
And by their shining graces prove
Their int'rest in my pard'ning love."
poem by Isaac Watts
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As We Teach We Learn
As we teach we learn, each day
And as we learn we see fresh ways,
To forward go, in boundless joy
Our "blueprint" lives to so enjoy.
The circles turn and spirals wend
Through journeys galore without an end.
So open up your soul and eye
To realise that we never die.
We roam Eternal through the sky
With sun and moon and stars, to cry
Their messages of love and peace
We see the light as we complete
Another Universal twirl,
Sometimes as "boy", and sometimes as "girl, "
though all that truly counts you see,
Is that "I" is always ever "Me"
poem by Rosi Caswell
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The Contented Man
"How good God is to me," he said;
"For have I not a mansion tall,
With trees and lawns of velvet tread,
And happy helpers at my call?
With beauty is my life abrim,
With tranquil hours and dreams apart;
You wonder that I yield to Him
That best of prayers, a grateful heart?"
"How good God is to me," he said;
"For look! though gone is all my wealth,
How sweet it is to earn one's bread
With brawny arms and brimming health.
Oh, now I know the joy of strife!
To sleep so sound, to wake so fit.
Ah yes, how glorious is life!
I thank Him for each day of it."
"How good God is to me," he said;
"Though health and wealth are gone, it's true;
Things might be worse, I might be dead,
And here I'm living, laughing too.
Serene beneath the evening sky
I wait, and every man's my friend;
God's most contented man am I . . .
He keeps me smiling to the End."
poem by Robert William Service
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Alone in the Crowd
Eternal subservience
To the controlled insanity
What a prim and proper reason
To wish to break away
"But no! " the "heroes" faintly cry
As you try to flee their bounds
"Why don't you enjoy it here?
Are you not fond of crowds? "
All their masks are all the same
As they expect a fine reply
But their conformist tunnel vision
Finds truth within your lie
Satisfied the huddled mass
Through life circumambulates
Leaving you with a plastered mask
And immense amounts of hate
"You fool! How could you? You were more! "
Your mind screams inside your skull
And marching to their deadbeat tune
Leaves you and yourself annulled
As the masks around you smile
It reflects onto your own
Though "Yourself" might now be plural
You are still all alone
Ah Me!
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad heigho!
'Tis but a little word - "heigho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard - "heigho!"
An idle breath -
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "heigho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh - "Ah me!"
Born but to droop and die - "Ah me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah me!"
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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You're right—
234
You're right—"the way is narrow"—
And "difficult the Gate"—
And "few there be"—Correct again—
That "enter in—thereat"—
'Tis Costly—So are purples!
'Tis just the price of Breath—
With but the "Discount" of the Grave—
Termed by the Brokers—"Death"!
And after that—there's Heaven—
The Good Man's—"Dividend"—
And Bad Men—"go to Jail"—
I guess—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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What is—
215
What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Us Two
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.
"Let's go together," says Pooh.
"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.
("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what it is," said Pooh.
"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.
"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what they are," said Pooh.
"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.
"That's right," said Pooh to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."
So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,
"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. "That's how it is," says Pooh.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands
"What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
"But if there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If but once you should raise your
loving eyes to my face it would make
my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Hymn 92
Christ the wisdom of God.
Prov. 8:1,22-32.
Shall Wisdom cry aloud,
And not her speech be heard?
The voice of God's eternal Word,
Deserves it no regard?
"I was his chief delight,
His everlasting Son,
Before the first of all his works,
Creation, was begun.
["Before the flying clouds,
Before the solid land,
Before the fields, before the floods,
I dwelt at his right hand.
"When he adorned the skies,
And built them, I was there,
To order where the sun should rise,
And marshal every star.
"When he poured out the sea,
And spread the flowing deep,
I gave the flood a firm decree
In its own bounds to keep.]
"Upon the empty air
The earth was balanced well.
With joy I saw the mansion where
The sons of men should dwell.
"My busy thoughts at first
On their salvation ran,
Ere sin was born, or Adam's dust
Was fashioned to a man.
"Then come, receive my grace,
Ye children, and be wise;
Happy the man that keeps my ways;
The man that shuns them dies."
poem by Isaac Watts
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Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Memories of my Dad
Today was a day for remembering, Dad, of things we did and said
Going back many years -- of stories told when you tucked me in bed
Pretending we were on a ship -- floating off to many lands
Finding secret treasures -- always holding hands.
Those hands were there to guide me when I took my many tumbles
To wipe my tears away, soothe the hurt from my falls and stumbles
To teach me how to read and write
Explain to me how fuzzy caterpillars become butterflies in flight
To walk out in the forest and learn the names of trees
To watch a lovely sunset -- feel a gentle breeze
To hug a fuzzy puppy and take him home as ours
To teach the pup -- his bed is not among Mom's flowers
To go to the circus and watch the clowns with painted faces
Never realizing -- many years down the road I'd be going through their paces
To eat hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn and such
Never realizing -- a tummy ache was what we got from "too much"
To see you at my school plays -- and hear your loving praise
To have you at my graduation and all my special days
To have you take my hand, kiss me and lead me down the aisle
As on my Wedding Day, we turned our happy tears to a smile
You were always there when I needed you, through happiness and strife
I was always your "little Girl" and buddy -- even though I became a wife
Our love was a special one though we "Earthly Parted" in a veil of tears
You are always close to me -- just a short prayer away.
And some day -- Gods willing -- we'll be "home" to stay
poem by Anna Helen McDonald
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At play
Play that you are mother dear,
And play that papa is your beau;
Play that we sit in the corner here,
Just as we used to, long ago.
Playing so, we lovers two
Are just as happy as we can be,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
"I love you" we both shall say,
All in earnest and all in play.
Or, play that you are that other one
That some time came, and went away;
And play that the light of years agone
Stole into my heart again to-day!
Playing that you are the one I knew
In the days that never again may be,
I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
I love you!" my heart shall say
To the ghost of the past come back to-day!
Or, play that you sought this nestling-place
For your own sweet self, with that dual guise
Of your pretty mother in your face
And the look of that other in your eyes!
So the dear old loves shall live anew
As I hold my darling on my knee,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
Oh, many a strange, true thing we say
And do when we pretend to play!
poem by Eugene Field
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Immortality
At twenty-five I cast my horoscope,
And saw a future with all good things rife --
A firm assurance of eternal life
In worlds beyond, and in this world the hope
Of deathless fame. But now my sun doth slope
To setting, and the toil of sordid strife,
The care of food and raiment, child and wife,
Have dimmed and narrowed all my spirit's scope.
Eternal life -- a river gulphed in sands!
Undying fame -- a rainbow lost in clouds!
What hope of immortality remains
But this: "Some soul that loves and understands
Shall save thee from the darkness that enshrouds";
And this: "Thy blood shall course in others' veins"?
poem by John Liddell Kelly
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The New Knighthood
Who gives him the Bath?
"I," said the wet,
Rank-Jungle-sweat,
"I'll give him the Bath!"
Who'll sing the psalms?
"We," said the Palms.
"Ere the hot wind becalms,
"We'll sing the psalms."
Who lays on the sword ?
"I," said the Sun,
Before he has done,
"I'll lay on the sword."
"Who fastens his belt?
"I," said Short-Rations,
" I know all the fashions
"Of tightening a belt!"
Who gives him his spur?
"I," said his Chief,
Exacting and brief,
"I'll give him the spur."
Who'll shake his hand?
"I," said the Fever,
"And I'm no deceiver,
"I'll shake his hand."
Who brings him the wine?
"I," said Quinine,
"It's a habit of mine.
"I'11 come with his wine."
Who'll put him to proof?
"I," said All Earth.
"Whatever he's worth,
"I'll put to the proof."
Who'll choose him for Knight?
"I," said his Mother,
"Before any other,
"My very own Knight."
And after this fashion, adventure to seek,
Sir Galahad was made--as it might be last week!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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There was one I met upon the road
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Hymn 28
The triumph of Christ over the enemies of his church.
Isa. 63:1-3, etc.
What mighty man, or mighty God,
Comes travelling in state,
Along the Idumean road,
Away from Bozrah's gate?
The glory of his robes proclaim
'Tis some victorious king:
"'Tis I, the Just, th' Almighty One,
That your salvation bring."
"Why, mighty Lord," thy saints inquire,
"Why thine apparel's red?
And all thy vesture stained like those
Who in the wine-press tread?"
"I by myself have trod the press,
And crushed my foes alone;
My wrath has struck the rebels dead,
My fury stamped them down.
"'Tis Edom's blood that dyes my robes
With joyful scarlet stains;
The triumph that my raiment wears
Sprung from their bleeding veins.
"Thus shall the nations be destroyed
That dare insult my saints;
I have an arm t' avenge their wrongs,
An ear for their complaints."
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Subalterns
I
"Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky,
"I fain would lighten thee,
But there are laws in force on high
Which say it must not be."
II
--"I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried
The North, "knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou."
III
--"To-morrow I attack thee, wight,"
Said Sickness. "Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
But am bid enter there."
IV
--"Come hither, Son," I heard Death say;
"I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
But I, too, am a slave!"
V
We smiled upon each other then,
And life to me had less
Of that fell look it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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