The Old Road
THE ROAD is left that once was trod
By man and heavy-laden beast;
And new ways opened, iron-shod,
That bind the land from west to east.
I asked of Him who all things knows
Why none who lived now passed that way:
Where rose the dust the grass now grows?
A still, low voice was heard to say,—
“Thou knowest not why I change the course
Of him who travels: learn to go,
Obey the Spirit’s gentle force,
Nor ask thou where the stream may flow.
“Man shall not walk in his own ways,
For he is blind and cannot see;
But let him trust, and lengthened days
Shall lead his feet to heaven and Me.
Then shall the grass the path grow o’er,
That his own wilfulness has trod;
And man nor beast shall pass it more,
But he shall walk with Me, his God.”
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Paths
I shall tread, another year,
Ways I walked with Grief,
Past the dry, ungarnered ear
And the brittle leaf.
I shall stand, a year apart,
Wondering, and shy,
Thinking, "Here she broke her heart;
Here she pled to die."
I shall hear the pheasants call,
And the raucous geese;
Down these ways, another Fall,
I shall walk with Peace.
But the pretty path I trod
Hand-in-hand with Love-
Underfoot, the nascent sod,
Brave young boughs above,
And the stripes of ribbon grass
By the curling way-
I shall never dare to pass
To my dying day.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Summer Dawn.
Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass
The dreamy crickets chirp in the dewy dawn,
Now that the light of the stars has grown
Into a thin pale mist in the night unknown;
The small birds twitter, whose senses quite
Have not yet out of their dreams withdrawn —
Here where my heart too waits for the light
Under the cloudy hills that soon will run
With bright feet in the ways of the sun,
As if they were but chained to the air:
Come to me now so fresh and fair —
Now that the reign of Sleep is done —
With twinkling feet in the dewy dawn!
O love, as grass comes to the lawn,
As day comes to the East, come thou —
Come to me now!
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Disciple
Thou wilt my hands employ, though others find
No work for those who praise thy name aright;
And in their worldly wisdom call them blind,
Whom thou has blest with thine own spirit's sight.
But while they find no work for thee to do,
And blindly on themselves alone rely;
The child must suffer what thou sufferest too
And learn from him thou sent e'en so to die;
Thou art my Father, thou wilt give me aid
To bear the wrong the Spirit suffers here;
Thou hast thy help upon the mighty laid,
In him I trust, nor know to want or fear,
But ever onward walk secure from sin,
For he has conquered every foe within.
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moving On
Moving on through God’s Grace, within this life to a new place,
A new place prepared by God, upon this temporal earthly sod,
With new trials along the way, but, God’s with us night and day,
And in this steadfast anticipation, we enter into every situation.
Our life’s course He may change, but, God is always the same,
And faithful, as God always is, guiding those, who are truly His.
Though a new place can be strange, He as God will not change,
And wherever God places you, He shall always see you through.
All that we need to do is trust, God, who created men from dust,
Creating us in the image of God, to lead us on any path we trod.
This of course is for all of those, who believe The Son who rose.
God’s Only Son, Jesus Christ, who rose to give all men new life.
Many are relocated by the hand, in ways they cannot understand,
Of our Loving, Sovereign Lord, in ways which will not be ignored.
They are given another opportunity, to live so other men can see,
How believers simply live this life, for our Lord and Savior Christ.
Our final destiny doesn’t change, but other lives we now engage,
To share the message from above, of our Eternal Savior’s Love.
Pointing to our Eternal Source, as we journey a temporal course,
And not here to simply roam, but lead others to an eternal home.
(09/2007)
Conflict In Their Mind
In the middle I have heard of a wild beast having a great feast
From where I stand I can see his tail bruising the southern land
With his flaws he struggled to get grip of the northern walls
From where I am free I can see his head dangling across the red sea
Some say this beast always stretch his back legs far east
Tho he sometimes grip the west but the way he back of I am impress
This beast is somewhere in our mind as we are so blind to slay our owne kind
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He That Hath Ears
'He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.'-
St. John the Divine.
The Spirit says unto the churches,
'Ere ever the churches began
I lived in the centre of Being-
The life of the Purpose and Plan;
I flowed from the mind of the Maker
Through nature to man.
'I sleep in the glow of the jewel,
I wake in the sap of the tree,
I stir in the beast of the forest,
I reason in man, and am free
To turn on the path of Ascension
To the god yet to be.
'I was, and I am, and I will be;
I live in each church and each faith,
But yield to no bond and no fetter,
I animate all with my breath;
I speak through the voice of the living,
And I speak after death.'
The Spirit says unto the churches
'The dead are not gone, they are near;
And my voice, when I will it, speaks through them,
Speaks through them in messages clear.
And he that hath ears, in the silence
May listen and hear.'
The Spirit says unto the churches,
'So many the feet that have trod
The road leading up into knowledge,
The steep narrow path has grown broad;
And the curtain held down by old dogmas
Is lifted by God.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Savior, on the Word of Truth
My Savior, on the word of truth
In earnest hope I live;
I ask for all the precious things
Thy boundless love can give.
I look for many a lesser light
About my path to shine;
But chiefly long to walk with Thee,
And only trust in Thine.
In holy expectation held,
Thy strength my heart shall stay,
For Thy right hand will never let
My trust be cast away.
Yea, Thou hast kept me near Thy feet,
In many a deadly strife,
By the stronghold of hope in Thee,
The hope of endless life.
Thou knowest that I am not blest
As Thou wouldst have me be,
Till all the peace and joy of faith
Possess my soul in Thee
And still I seek ’mid many fears,
With yearnings unexpressed,
The comforts of Thy strengthening love,
Thy soothing, settling rest.
It is not as Thou wilt with me,
Till, humbled in the dust;
I know no place in all my heart
Wherein to put my trust.
Until I find, O Lord, in Thee,
The Lowly and the Meek,
That fullness which Thy own redeemed
Go nowhere else to seek.
Then, O my Savior, on my soul,
Cast down, but not dismayed,
Still be Thy chastening, healing hand
In tender, mercy laid.
And while I wait for all Thy joys,
My yearning heart to fill,
Teach me to walk and work with Thee,
And at Thy feet sit still.
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire
Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Unuttered or expressed;
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,
The Christian’s native air,
His watchword at the gates of death;
He enters heaven with prayer.
O Thou, by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!
Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice,
Returning from his ways,
While angels in their songs rejoice
And cry, “Behold, he prays!”
The saints in prayer appear as one
In word, in deed, and mind,
While with the Father and the Son
Sweet fellowship they find.
No prayer is made by man alone
The Holy Spirit pleads,
And Jesus, on th’eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.
O Thou by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray.
poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Throes of Change
Today, we’re in the throes of change, as men attempt to rearrange,
With ideas that come and go, the ways of life we’ve come to know.
With political change in the wind, proven ways they want to rescind,
Behaviors prescribed by our Lord; the only ones that have endured.
But, like the flower and the grass, all political rhetoric, too will pass,
Even after men’s votes are cast, their imposing plans shall not last.
As many campaigning on our sod, have truly forgotten a Holy God,
In a land so blessed by Him, they instead, support the people’s sin.
Calling their ideas progressive still, while they go against God’s will,
His Righteous will for our land, is a thinking they do not understand.
They’re on the left, not the right, as they stray further from His Light,
They claim to represent everyone, except men who love God’s Son.
God’s Word speaks of their path, as it touches on folly’s aftermath,
Noting the wise lean to the right, as they avoid the folly of the night,
While the foolish, to the left side, where all Godly wisdom is denied,
While ignoring God’s Revelation, men change us into a liberal nation.
Such thinking is an affront to God, Who rules with a Righteous Rod,
Who could very well install over us, a leader who all the liberals trust,
To weaken further a moral base, that is sliding far from God’s Grace,
All because of changing days, which deny all God’s Righteous ways.
(Copyright ©02/2008)
Walk With God
Why does one walk with God, and why does a heart humbly nod,
While a sinner in the present life, to follow as Lord, Jesus Christ?
What are the choices one will make, as former ways they forsake,
Ignoring all that others will say, as they choose in life a new way?
No soul will move towards God, upon the earth we presently trod,
Unless the person is drawn by, the Spirit of God, Who is on High.
Their heart by God is stirred within, that sinner lost and wandering,
And given eyes so they will see, the need for The God of Eternity.
A need they never saw before, the Savior knocked upon the door,
The very door of their own heart, for the new life with God to start,
And at that moment they believe, The Holy Spirit, they will receive,
Thus, beginning a New Life when, that sinner becomes Born Again.
It is only after that spiritual birth, the things of God have real worth,
When given new sight from above, God’s Spirit kindles a new love,
A flame in your heart becomes a fire, with new purpose and desire,
Walking with God you’ll soon find, the former ways are left behind.
With a desire to walk in The Light, to help men still lost in the night,
Persuading others to open the door, to a life in Christ forevermore,
So as the Spirit of God moves in, they leave a present path of sin,
To join that race with you and me, on the new path to Life Eternally.
(Copyright ©09/2009)
The Prayer
Wilt Thou not visit me?
The plant beside me feels Thy gentle dew;
And every blade of grass I see,
From Thy deep earth its quickening moisture drew.
Wilt Thou not visit me?
Thy morning calls on me with cheering tone;
And every hill and tree
Lends but one voice, the voice of Thee alone.
Come, for I need Thy love,
More than the flower the dew, or grass the rain;
Come, gently as Thy holy dove;
And let me in thy sight rejoice to live again.
I will not hide from them,
When Thy storms come, though fierce may be their wrath;
But bow with leafy stem,
And strengthened follow on Thy chosen path.
Yes, Thou wilt visit me,
Nor plant nor tree Thing eye delights so well,
As when from sin set free
My spirit loves with Thine in peace to dwell.
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Knowing Not what’s Ahead
I don’t know what lies ahead, so I look to my Savior instead,
The One Who bore a cross for me, to die a death at Calvary,
He, Who did that for me friend, knows how my path will end,
And so I’ll fix my eyes on Him, as He gives me peace within.
On every path that we trod, we must trust our Lord and God,
For on the path He has us go, our Lord’s desires shall show,
Where that path will end for us, as we follow our Lord Jesus.
And what the outcome will be, within the plan we cannot see.
The Plan of God we must embrace, while living out our days,
As children formed of but dust, an Eternal God we can trust,
For our Lord makes no mistake, on any path He has us take,
As all things work out for good, in His ways not understood.
Whether my path is bright or dim, I must always trust in Him,
He, Who knitted me in the womb, has set up, for me a room,
In His Father’s Home above, where Christ leads by His Love,
Love, He guides me in each day, even upon the darkest way.
Even if I choose my path in life, my way’s directed by Christ,
And upon every path taken, by my Lord I am never forsaken,
Who continues daily leading me, from this earth into Eternity,
Where all things will fall in place, when I see my Savior’s face.
(07/2011)
Martin Lightfoot's Song
Come hearken, hearken, gentles all,
Come hearken unto me,
And I'll sing you a song of a Wood-Lyon
Came swimming out over the sea.
He ranged west, he ranged east,
And far and wide ranged he;
He took his bite out of every beast
Lives under the greenwood tree.
Then by there came a silly old wolf,
'And I'll serve you,' quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, 'My paw is heavy enough,
So what wilt thou do for me?'
Then by there came a cunning old fox,
'And I'll serve you,' quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, 'My wits are sharp enough
So what wilt thou do for me?'
Then by there came a white, white dove,
Flew off Our Lady's knee;
Sang 'It's I will be your true, true love,
If you'll be true to me.'
'And what will you do, you bonny white dove?
And what will you do for me?'
'Oh, it's I'll bring you to Our Lady's love,
In the ways of chivalrie.'
He followed the dove that Wood-Lyon
By mere and wood and wold,
Till he is come to a perfect knight,
Like the Paladin of old.
He ranged east, he ranged west,
And far and wide ranged he-
And ever the dove won him honour and fame
In the ways of chivalrie.
Then by there came a foul old sow,
Came rookling under the tree;
And 'It's I will be true love to you,
If you'll be true to me.'
'And what wilt thou do, thou foul old sow?
And what wilt thou do for me?'
'Oh, there hangs in my snout a jewel of gold,
And that will I give to thee.'
He took to the sow that Wood-Lyon;
To the rookling sow took he;
And the dove flew up to Our Lady's bosom;
And never again throve he.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus, Thou Divine Companion
Jesus, Thou divine Companion,
By Thy lowly human birth
Thou hast come to join the workers,
Burden bearers of the earth.
Thou, the Carpenter of Nazareth,
Toiling for Thy daily food,
By Thy patience and Thy courage,
Thou hast taught us toil is good.
They who tread the path of labor
Follow where Thy feet have trod;
They who work without complaining
Do the holy will of God.
Thou, the Peace that passeth knowledge,
Dwellest in the daily strife;
Thou, the Bread of heaven, broken
In the sacrament of life.
Every task, however simple,
Sets the soul that does it free;
Every deed of love and kindness
Done to man is done to Thee.
Jesus, Thou divine Companion,
Help us all to do our best;
Bless in our daily labor,
Lead us to the Sabbath rest.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Book
Eternal God! Maker of all
That have lived here since the man's fall:
The Rock of Ages! in whose shade
They live unseen, when here they fade;
Thou knew'st this paper when it was
Mere seed, and after that but grass;
Before 'twas dressed or spun, and when
Made linen, who did wear it then:
What were their lives, their thoughts, and deeds,
Whether good corn or fruitless weeds.
Thou knew'st this tree when a green shade
Covered it, since a cover made,
And where it flourished, grew, and spread,
As if it never should be dead.
Thou knew'st this harmless beast when he
Did live and feed by Thy decree
On each green thing; then slept - well fed -
Clothed with this skin which now lies spread
A covering o'er this aged book;
Which makes me wisely weep, and look
On my own dust; mere dust it is,
But not so dry and clean as this.
Thou knew'st and saw'st them all, and though
Now scattered thus, dost know them so.
O knowing, glorious Spirit! when
Thou shalt restore trees, beasts, and men,
When Thou shalt make all new again,
Destroying only death and pain,
Give him amongst Thy works a place
Who in them loved and sought Thy face!
poem by Henry Vaughan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!
Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:
Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;
The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,
Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;
And thine own sadness, where of stars, grown old
In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,
Sing in their high and lonely melody.
Come near, that no more blinded hy man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering on her way.
Come near, come near, come near -- Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!
Lest I no more bear common things that crave;
The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,
The field-mouse running by me in the grass,
And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;
But seek alone to hear the strange things said
By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,
And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.
Come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Sinking Sun
How graciously thou wear'st the yoke
Of use that does not fail!
The grasses, like an anchored smoke,
Ride in the bending gale;
This knoll is snowed with blosmy manna,
And fire-dropt as a seraph's mail.
Here every eve thou stretchest out
Untarnishable wing,
And marvellously bring'st about
Newly an olden thing;
Nor ever through like-ordered heaven
Moves largely thy grave progressing.
Here every eve thou goest down
Behind the self-same hill,
Nor ever twice alike go'st down
Behind the self-same hill;
Nor like-ways is one flame-sopped flower
Possessed with glory past its will.
Not twice alike! I am not blind,
My sight is live to see;
And yet I do complain of thy
Weary variety.
O Sun! I ask thee less or more,
Change not at all, or utterly!
O give me unprevisioned new,
Or give to change reprieve!
For new in me is olden too,
That I for sameness grieve.
O flowers! O grasses! be but once
The grass and flower of yester-eve!
Wonder and sadness are the lot
Of change: thou yield'st mine eyes
Grief of vicissitude, but not
Its penetrant surprise.
Immutability mutable
Burthens my spirit and the skies.
O altered joy, all joyed of yore,
Plodding in unconned ways!
O grief grieved out, and yet once more
A dull, new, staled amaze!
I dream, and all was dreamed before,
Or dream I so? the dreamer says.
poem by Francis Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nature Of The Beast
It is the key to all the doors,
It is the crashing on the shores.
It lives in your steering wheel.
It hides in the wind and rain,
With voices as cold as steel
Its calling your name
It is the smile upon his face
It is the winning of the race.
It lives in the red-alert.
It lives in the power game
Its easy to take to heart
But harder to tame
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
Without all this heat
Theyll be dancing west to east
This is the nature of the beast
It is the glowing in his eyes
It is the reason for his lies
How many know youre there
How many play your game
Hes always the man to dare
Youre always to blame
It is the need to understand
It is the trigger in his hand
It lives in the uniform
It grows from the need to gain
With faces so old and torn
Its calling your name
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
Without all this heat
Theyll be dancing west to east
This is the nature of the beast.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Tiger- past predator: present prey!
Tiger, Tiger, poached for hide!
By Man’s bullets many died;
Bones and claws of thine are dried;
Poachers have thee crucified.
Past predator, now a prey!
Recklessly killed every day;
Thy extinction is so nigh;
Mortality of thine’s high.
Lord of Jungle, O Tiger!
Hast thou become much tamer?
Thy reserves have dwindled fast;
Wilt thou soon be thing of past?
Oh, what sinews, what muscles!
Victor of fiercest tussles;
Thou with agility stalk;
Despite weight, thou canst cat-walk!
No beast dare challenge thy might;
Thine eyes glimmer green at night;
Thou live in forests so dense;
Mighty beast- ’tis no pretence.
Frightens thy roar every beast;
Stalk thou grassland’s beasts for feast;
What strength fills thy graceful frame!
Jungle Lord, wherefrom thou came?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Six Feet Of Sod
This is the end of all my ways,
My wanderings on earth,
My gloomy and my golden days,
My madness and my mirth.
I've bought ten thousand blades of grass
To bed me down below,
And here I wait the days to pass
Until I go.
Until I bid good bye to friend,
To feast and fast goodbye,
And in a stint of soil the end
I seek of sun and sky.
My farings far on land and sea,
My trails of global girth
Sum up to this,--to cover me
Six feet of earth.
My home of homes I hold in fee
For centuries to pass,
When snug my skeleton will be
And grin up through the grass;
When my grey ghost will bend above,
And grieve to gracious God
This endless end of life and love,--
Six feet of sod.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!