Gratitude
If gratitude a poor man's virtue is,
'Tis one at least my sick soul can afford.
Bankrupt I am of all youth's charities,
But not of thanks. No. Thanks be to the Lord!
Praise be, dear Lady of all grace, to you.
You were my mediciner, my one sole friend,
When the world spurned me from its retinue.
And I am yours, your bond--slave to the end.
--How shall I tell it you? There was a time
When I was sordid in my unbelief,
And mocked at all things less robust than crime,
A convict in my prison--house of grief.
But that is past. Your pity was the key
Which sent me forth, a broken man, but free.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
The Singer In The Prison
O sight of shame, and pain, and dole!
O fearful thought--a convict Soul!
RANG the refrain along the hall, the prison,
Rose to the roof, the vaults of heaven above,
Pouring in floods of melody, in tones so pensive, sweet and strong,
the like whereof was never heard,
Reaching the far-off sentry, and the armed guards, who ceas'd their
pacing,
Making the hearer's pulses stop for extasy and awe.
O sight of pity, gloom, and dole!
O pardon me, a hapless Soul!
The sun was low in the west one winter day, 10
When down a narrow aisle, amid the thieves and outlaws of the land,
(There by the hundreds seated, sear-faced murderers, wily
counterfeiters,
Gather'd to Sunday church in prison walls--the keepers round,
Plenteous, well-arm'd, watching, with vigilant eyes,)
All that dark, cankerous blotch, a nation's criminal mass,
Calmly a Lady walk'd, holding a little innocent child by either hand,
Whom, seating on their stools beside her on the platform,
She, first preluding with the instrument, a low and musical prelude,
In voice surpassing all, sang forth a quaint old hymn.
THE HYMN.
A Soul, confined by bars and bands, 20
Cries, Help! O help! and wrings her hands;
Blinded her eyes--bleeding her breast,
Nor pardon finds, nor balm of rest.
O sight of shame, and pain, and dole!
O fearful thought--a convict Soul!
Ceaseless, she paces to and fro;
O heart-sick days! O nights of wo!
Nor hand of friend, nor loving face;
Nor favor comes, nor word of grace.
O sight of pity, gloom, and dole! 30
O pardon me, a hapless Soul!
It was not I that sinn'd the sin,
The ruthless Body dragg'd me in;
Though long I strove courageously,
The Body was too much for me.
O Life! no life, but bitter dole!
O burning, beaten, baffled Soul!
(Dear prison'd Soul, bear up a space,
For soon or late the certain grace;
To set thee free, and bear thee home, 40
The Heavenly Pardoner, Death shall come.
Convict no more--nor shame, nor dole!
Depart! a God-enfranchis'd Soul!)
The singer ceas'd;
One glance swept from her clear, calm eyes, o'er all those upturn'd
faces;
Strange sea of prison faces--a thousand varied, crafty, brutal,
seam'd and beauteous faces;
Then rising, passing back along the narrow aisle between them,
While her gown touch'd them, rustling in the silence,
She vanish'd with her children in the dusk.
While upon all, convicts and armed keepers, ere they stirr'd, 50
(Convict forgetting prison, keeper his loaded pistol,)
A hush and pause fell down, a wondrous minute,
With deep, half-stifled sobs, and sound of bad men bow'd, and moved
to weeping,
And youth's convulsive breathings, memories of home,
The mother's voice in lullaby, the sister's care, the happy
childhood,
The long-pent spirit rous'd to reminiscence;
--A wondrous minute then--But after, in the solitary night, to many,
many there,
Years after--even in the hour of death--the sad refrain--the tune,
the voice, the words,
Resumed--the large, calm Lady walks the narrow aisle,
The wailing melody again--the singer in the prison sings: 60
O sight of shame, and pain, and dole!
O fearful thought--a convict Soul!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Psalm 150
Praise the Lord of the morning
When the sun rises from its sleep
Praise the Lord for His excellent greatness
For His beauty makes me weep
Praise the Lord when the darkness falls
And the moon rises high above
Praise the Lord for His majestic glory
And His everlasting love
Praise the Lord in the winter
When the snow falls on the ground
Praise the Lord for His glorious presence
When we stand upon holy ground
Praise the Lord of the summer
When the days are warm and long
Praise the Lord for His magnificent splendor
And the saints shall sing a new song
Praise the Lord of the springtime
When the blossoms on the tree
Praise the Lord for His holiness
And for the Blood that set us free
Praise the Lord of the Autumn
When the leaves fall to the ground
Praise the Lord for His faithfulness
And that His grace abounds
Praise the Lord when your happy
And there's a smile upon your face
Praise the Lord for His mercy
And for His saving grace
Praise the Lord when you're in despair
And your pierced by a fiery dart
Praise the Lord for HIs loving kindness
That restores your broken heart
Praise the Lord with your last breath
As you lie upon your bed
Praise the Lord for His promises
To raise you from the dead
Praise the Lord for all eternity
As you gather around His throne
Praise the Lord for His incredible beauty
As you worship Him alone
Let trumpet, harp and timbrel praise
And dance before the King
Let all with breath praise the Lord
And with their voices sing
Hallelujah to the King of Kings
We worship and bow down
We sing to you forever more
And we will crown Him with many crowns
poem by Frank McEleny
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What A Sobering Thought Indeed
What a sobering thought indeed, half the world will die in unbelief,
And the other half by God's Grace will believe to experience relief.
And when they take their last breath, they will see Eternal Death,
But you can live, if you believe, within the time that you have left.
Then, not only will you experience God's relief from all your strife,
But through God's Grace and Mercy, you will receive Eternal Life.
This present Age of Grace, is God's Mercy towards all men on earth,
No matter what you think you're worth, you can experience new birth.
Your rebirth is when you believe, and God opens up your eyes to see,
That you my friend are just like me and we were both born to believe.
To the natural man this is foolishness, which leads one to unbelief,
And because he has no belief, he lives his life in and out of grief.
But The Lord offers more than just Eternal Life at your life's end,
As He will fill your life with joy and a peace you can't comprehend.
God through The Holy Spirit also helps you my friend to understand,
There's only one who can forgive your sins and He is The Son of Man.
For the Son of Man came to die to give his life as a ransom for many,
The Spotless Lamb who died a death to save vile sinners so unworthy,
What a sobering thought indeed, that God allowed The Lord to bleed,
To watch His Only Son die on a tree, to save a wicked wretch like me.
(Copyright © 03/2003)
St. Johns Day
"Lord, and what shall this man do?"
Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend?
If his love for Christ be true,
Christ hath told thee of his end:
This is he whom God approves,
This is he whom Jesus loves.
Ask not of him more than this,
Leave it in his Saviour's breast,
Whether, early called to bliss,
He in youth shall find his rest,
Or armed in his station wait
Till his Lord be at the gate:
Whether in his lonely course
(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay,
Or with Love's supporting force
Cheat the toil, and cheer the way:
Leave it all in His high hand,
Who doth hearts as streams command.
Gales from Heaven, if so He will,
Sweeter melodies can wake
On the lonely mountain rill
Than the meeting waters make.
Who hath the Father and the Son,
May be left, but not alone.
Sick or healthful, slave or free,
Wealthy, or despised and poor -
What is that to him or thee,
So his love to Christ endure?
When the shore is won at last,
Who will count the billows past?
Only, since our souls will shrink
At the touch of natural grief,
When our earthly loved ones sink,
Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief;
Patient hearts, their pain to see,
And Thy grace, to follow Thee.
poem by John Keble
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My Poor Old Heart
I've been a fool for love
Ever since I was a baby
Just a rockin' in a cradle
As a rule I was the kind
That laid his feelings
Up front and on the table.
I gave up my world so many times
Just to see 'em tear it apart
Oh, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
I wonder just how many times
A broken heart can mend
Just when I get back on my feet
Lord, I always fall again.
Bruises, burns, lies, goodbyes
They've all left some scars
Oh, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
--- Instrumental ---
I oughta know by now
After all this debt
And heartache lessons
I could go without
Going through hell
Just to find a little heaven.
Seems to me every woman I meet
Has leavin' down to an art
Oh, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
I wonder just how many times
A broken heart can mend
Just when I get back on my feet
Lord, I always fall again.
Bruises, burns, lies, goodbyes
They've all left some scars
Oh, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
Bruises, burns, lies, goodbyes
They've all left some scars
Oh, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
Hey, Lord have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 86
Thy gracious ear, O Lord, encline,
O hear me I thee pray,
For I am poor, and almost pine
With need, and sad decay.
Preserve my soul, for *I have trod Heb. I am good, loving,
Thy waies, and love the just, a doer of good and
Save thou thy servant O my God holy things
Who still in thee doth trust.
Pity me Lord for daily thee
I call; 4 O make rejoyce
Thy Servants Soul; for Lord to thee
I lift my soul and voice,
For thou art good, thou Lord art prone
To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone
To them that on thee call.
Unto my supplication Lord
Give ear, and to the crie
Of my incessant praiers afford
Thy hearing graciously.
I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access
And answer, what I pray'd.
Like thee among the gods is none
O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
The Nations all whom thou hast made
Shall come, and all shall frame
To bow them low before thee Lord,
And glorifie thy name.
For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy strong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat
Remainest God alone.
Teach me O Lord thy way most right,
I in thy truth will hide,
To fear thy name my heart unite
So shall it never slide.
Thee will I praise O Lord my God
Thee honour, and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for ever more.
For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast free'd my Soul
Eev'n from the lowest Hell set free
From deepest darkness foul.
O God the proud against me rise
And violent men are met
To seek my life, and in their eyes
No fear of thee have set.
But thou Lord art the God most mild
Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art stil'd
Most mercifull, most true.
O turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on,
Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy hand-maids Son.
Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see
And be asham'd, because thou Lord
Do'st help and comfort me.
poem by John Milton
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My Poor Old Heart
I've been a fool for love ever since
I was a baby just a rockin' in the cradle
As a rule I was the kind who
Laid his feelings right down on the table
Gave my world so many times
Just to see them tear it apart
Whoa, Lord, have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
Chorus:
I wonder just how many times a broken heart can mend
Oh, when I get back on my feet Lord, I always fall again
Rubies, furs, lies, goodbyes they've all left some scars
Whoa, Lord, have a little bit of pity on my poor old heart.
Well, I ought to know by now
After of these dead and heartache lessons
I can go without going through hell
Trying to find a little heaven
Seems to me every woman I meet
Has leaving down to an art
Oh Lord, have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
Chorus:
I wonder just how many times a broken heart can mend
Oh, when I get back on my feet Lord, I always fall again
Rubies, furs, lies, goodbyes they've all left some scars
Whoa, Lord, have a little bit of pity on my poor old heart.
Well, I said rubies, furs, lies, goodbyes
They've all left some scars
Whoa, Lord, have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart.
I said Lord, have a little bit of pity
On my poor old heart...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Go For Simplicity My Friend
i go for simplicity my friend
because i am poor
i do not go for sophistication
because i am poor
i do not complicate matters
because i am poor
i do not want you to misunderstand
because i am poor
i do not want you to think some more
because i am poor
i do not want to convince you
because i am poor
i do not want you to be with our side
because we are poor
i want all things in their simplified forms
because we cannot afford
any other form of convolutions
we cannot afford another revolution
it will be expensive
and we have no more years to give
to pay for the sponsors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time, Perhaps
Time perhaps, for wonder –
to look around in awe
at how all that surrounds us
has somehow come about..
we who do not even know
how to grow a fingernail…
time perhaps, for gratitude –
for what we have already,
forgetting for a moment, our desires…
we who have forgotten
whom or how to thank..
time perhaps, for praise –
if not the Lawyer, praise the laws…
if not the lover, praise the love…
we who might become
praiseworthy through our praise…
time perhaps, for imagination –
to consider how things might be,
for then they might become…
we who have the world itself
inside us, just as much as that
great cosmos that’s out there…
time perhaps, for simplicity –
to pare life down to those things
which give us greatest joy –
and then, enjoy them all the more…
we who love complexity
when masquerading as the new…
time perhaps, for time –
to live a measured calm
of stillness, peace and rest
and find the joy there all the time …
we who ceaselessly invent
the labour-saving, and then find
ourselves a slave to these new toys…
time perhaps, to transcend time –
and live a timely life
of timeless joy; and know then,
all that’s not been mentioned here…
we who have yet to know
what human beings really are…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Where Could I Go But To The Lord
Living below in this old sinful world
Hardly a comfort can afford
Striving alone to face temptations call
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Neighbors are fun I love them everyone
We get along in sweet accord
But when I pass the chilling hand of death
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Life here is grand with friends I love so well
Comfort I get from gods own word
But when my soul needs manna from above
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go to the lord
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 51 part 3
The backslider restored.
O Thou that hear'st when sinners cry,
Though all my crimes before thee lie,
Behold them not with angry look,
But blot their mem'ry from thy book.
Create my nature pure within,
And form my soul averse to sin:
Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,
Nor hide thy presence from my heart.
I cannot live without thy light
Cast out and banished from thy sight:
Thine holy joys, my God, restore,
And guard me that I fall no more.
Though I have grieved thy Spirit, Lord,
His help and comfort still afford;
And let a wretch come near thy throne,
To plead the merits of thy Son.
A broken heart, my God, my King,
Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise
A broken heart for sacrifice.
My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns thy dreadful sentence just:
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemned to die.
Then will I teach the world thy ways;
Sinners shall learn thy sovereign grace;
I'll lead them to my Savior's blood,
And they shall praise a pard'ning God.
O may thy love inspire my tongue!
Salvation shall be all my song;
And all my powers shall join to bless
The Lord, my strength and righteousness.
poem by Isaac Watts
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I Will Keep Broken Things
I will keep
Broken
Things:
The big clay
Pot
With raised
Iguanas
Chasing
Their
Tails;
Two
Of their
Wise
Heads
Sheared
Off;
I will keep
Broken
things:
The old
Slave
Market
Basket
Brought
To my
Door
By Mississippi
A jagged
Hole
Gouged
In its sturdy
Dark
Oak
Side.
I will keep
Broken
things:
The memory
Of
Those
Long
Delicious
Nig ht
Swims
With
You;
I will keep
Broken
things:
In my house
There
Remains
An
Honored
Shelf
On which
I will
Keep
Broken
Things.
Their beauty
Is
They
Need
Not
Ever
Be
'fixed.'
I will keep
Your
Wild
Free
Laughter
Thoug h
It is now
Missing
Its
Reassuring
And
Gra ceful
Hinge.
I will keep
Broken
Things:
Thank you
So much!
I will keep
Broken
Things.
I will keep
You:
Pilgrim
Of
Sorrow.
I will keep
Myself.
poem by Alice Walker
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Forever Faithful
In spite of all my unfaithfulness, my Lord God is faithful unto me.
For my life God does surely bless, in many ways that others see.
And although I often fail the test, I remain secure for all Eternity.
I have above an eternal address, where with God I’ll forever be.
It all comes down to God’s Grace; every single day I live my life.
For me there was not a trace, or even a thought of Jesus Christ,
In my heart God had no place, as my will and desire did suffice.
But through God’s saving Grace, He became for me a sacrifice.
From a former life of unbelief, I now live to honor Christ as Lord,
Who for me experienced grief, upon that cross, that He endured.
It is more than just a small relief, to know that I was not ignored,
For soon upon hearts of unbelief, His Judgment shall be poured.
My friend the things I know to do, sometimes a simply set aside,
At times doing what I know not to, as I fight a battle deep inside,
Thus I’m to my own self untrue, when in Christ I don’t fully abide.
I need to live this life anew, following the model of Him who died.
Faithful to me He will always be, as He guides me with His Love,
Knowing He has prepared for me, a new home forever up above,
Where with Him I’ll live eternally, enveloped by His endless Love,
There to truly live forever faithfully, in a perfect paradise up above.
Stuck In A House (old poem revisited)
Stuck in a house thinking of a girl... my house
Wondering if one day she'd be my spouse
No matter what I do I can't douse
This fire in me, it burns for you
I hope you share it too
O my dear
I wish you were here
This time I have no fear
Not this time
Not this time I'm one who's fine
But I; 'm stuck behind this wall
It's like I'm not here at all
But this prison away from you... my prison
It's just a house right?
Then why isn't there comfort on this cold night...
Sure it's my house, but then why is it so lonely
Sure it's just a house but it's my prison and I'm waiting for you only
poem by David Knox
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Psalm 41
v.1-8
L. M.
Charity to the poor; or, Pity to the afflicted.
Blest is the man whose bowels move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow saints endure.
His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of gen'ral grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels too.
His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.
Or if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiv'n;
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heav'n.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Friendship bond
Friendship bond
I searched for parallel
Nothing could come unto level
Not even to some extent
I felt it like god sent
Why such feeling exits?
When child forcibly insists
To see child of neighbor
Extend hand with great labor
We can understand attachment
That is developed with holy movement
Parents shower on their children
They reciprocate it with gratitude even
Blood relation is something different
It is seen with eyes and is apparent
That exists even without telling
No mistakes in between for spelling
Such bonds do exists in different form
One such bond attracts no norms
Friendship bond is extraordinary
That does exists between rich and ordinary
We have one legendary story in epics
That shows how solid is the basic
Lord Krishna* favored poor Sudama*
Any one may praise and favor with words "Aha"! *
I recollect some good and memorable names
Hitler and Eva can be spared from ill fame
Prince Edward can be acclaimed as living example
But many names can be associated with troubles
God has even blessed with unconditional bond
Eve animals recreate and are very fond
We are human being and live with peace
What is there in name if life is not at ease?
*Sudama.. poor friend of Lord Krishna….
*Aha… exclamatory words for wow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Be Ready
Not ready for the rapture my friend; you aren't ready for the end,
An ending that shall overtake, this entire world, make no mistake,
An ending that'll shock the world, as God's Judgment is unfurled,
On a world that has gone awry, from The One Who reigns on high.
The Lord's Judgment is guaranteed, only the rapture will proceed,
His coming Judgment of every nation, a time of great Tribulation,
Against God the nations rage, so, on the world He turns the page,
The final pages out of prophecy, regarding all the nations destiny.
Those who've not feared the Lord, though by grace have endured,
Will see The Lord's uplifted hand, throughout each and every land,
From God's Heavenly Habitation, He will surely strike every nation,
All that were opposed to God, will be Judged by Christ's Iron Rod.
For those in Christ, a different story, as believers shall be in Glory,
For those, Christ has prepared, a place above, and will be spared,
All His Wrath and the desolation, for in the Lord we have salvation,
His Redeemed are on another path, that we shall not see His wrath.
In light of The Word, one can't afford, to not be found in The Lord,
For when the rapture does take place, that will be the end of grace,
It won't be a pretty place or time, for those on the earth left behind,
So dear friend believe in Christ, and you will be in the Book of Life.
(Copyright ©08/2012)
Lord, I give you all my praise. (To the tune of down at the cross)
O Lord, My God, I give you all my praise
You have cared for me all my days
You have comfort and strengthen me
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O’ Lord, My God, to you I lift my hand
You will bless me right where I stand
You will guide me along the way
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord My God to you I sing my praise
I surrender and beg for your grace
Please O’ Lord, forgive all my sins.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, my God I need your help today
Please send some aid quickly my way
Problems are so bad I can hardly pray
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, My God, thanks for all you have done
You have empowered me to overcome
Now, I can claim my battle as won
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes God has been good to me.
God has been so good me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
poem by Reginald Walker
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Pilgrimage to Our Lady of Health, Vailankanni (A Thanks-giving Poem)
With hearts afilled with joy and awe,
We come to thank you, Mother dear;
For all the good things done so far,
Throughout the past, and present year!
O Queen of heaven, soul divine!
O Mary, Mother of Christ Lord!
You kept our family so fine,
Believing, living by the Word.
Do bless us in the future days,
And intercede to Jesus Christ;
Help us to live as per God's ways,
With purity of soul, as first.
O Lady of Miracles, Health!
Answer our prayers said all life;
Give us the grace and needed wealth
To tide over our earthly strife.
O Virgin who bore Jesus King!
Help us to fight the maligned foe!
Teach us to obey God and sing
A hymn of praise, thanksgiving, Oh!
O Vailankanni, born sin-free!
Help us to be holy like you;
And keep our soul heaven-ready,
By giving love to Jesus, due!
Pray for us, O Lady of Health!
Protect us from the devils' snare;
Prevent the tempter's attacks stealth;
Keep us under your loving care!
By Mrs. Mercy, Cathy, Diana and Dr.Celestine, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-09-2012
poem by John Celes
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Where Could I Go But To The Lord
(words & music by j. b. coats)
Living below in this old sinful world
Hardly a comfort can afford
Striving alone to face temptation so
Now wont you tell me
Where could I go but to the lord
Where could I go oh where could I go
Seeking the refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to save me in the end
Wont you tell me
Where could I go but to the lord
Life here is grand with friends I love so dear
Comfort I get from gods own word
Yet when I face that chilling hand of death
Wont you tell me
Where could I go but to the lord
Where could I go but to the lord
Where could I go oh where could I go
Seeking the refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to save me in the end
Wont you tell me
Where could I go but to the lord
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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