Poetry Saturday—Joy In The Presence Of Jesus

How tedious and tasteless the hours
When Jesus no longer I see!
Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers,
Have all lost their sweetness to me;

The midsummer sun shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look gay;
But when I am happy in Him,
December’s as pleasant as May.

His Name yields the richest perfume,
And sweeter than music His voice;
His presence disburses my gloom,
And makes all within me rejoice;
I should, were He always thus nigh,
Have nothing to wish or to fear;
No mortal so happy as I,
My summer would last all the year.

Content with beholding His face,
My all to His pleasure resign’d,
No changes of season err place
Would make any change in my mind:
While blest with a sense of His love,
A palace a toy would appear;
And prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there. 

My Lord, if indeed I am Thine,
If Thou art my sun and my song,
Say, why do I languish and pine?
And why are my winters so long?
O drive these dark clouds from my sky;
Thy soul-cheering presence restore;
Or take me to Thee up on high,
Where winter and clouds are no more. —John Newton

Poetry Saturday—Presumption

Whenever I am prone to doubt or wonder—
   I check myself, and say, “That mighty One
Who made to the solar system cannot blunder—
   And for the best all things are being done.”
Who sent the stars on their eternal courses
   Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure plan.
Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces,
   Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man.

You cannot put one little star in motion,
   You cannot shape one single forest leaf,
Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean,
   Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief.
You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendor,
   Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall,
Nor send the pale moon fourth with radiance tender—
   And dare you doubt the One who has done it all?

“So much is wrong, there is such pain—such sinning.”
   Yet look again—behold how much is right!
And He who formed the world from its beginning
   Knows how to guide it upward to the light.
Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil
   At God’s achievements, but with purpose strong
To cling to good, and turn away from evil.
   That is the way to help the world along. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poetry Saturday—Wait, Trust, Rest

butterflyWait patiently wait,
God never is late;
Thy budding plans are in Thy Father’s holding,
And only wait His grand divine unfolding.
Then wait, wait,
Patiently wait.
Trust, hopefully trust,
That God will adjust
Thy tangled life; and from its dark concealings,
Will bring His will, in all its bright revealings.
Then trust, trust,
Hopefully trust.
Rest, peacefully rest
On thy Savior’s breast;
Breathe in His ear thy sacred high ambition,
And He will bring it forth in blest fruition.
Then rest, rest,
Peacefully rest! —Mercy A. Gladwin

Poetry Saturday—The Thought Of God

clouds-and-waterThe thought of God is like the tree 
Beneath whose shade I lie, 
And watch the fleet of snowy clouds 
Sail o’er the silent sky.

‘Tis like that soft, invading light 
Which in all darkness shines, 
The thread that through life’s sombre web 
In golden pattern twines. 

It is a thought which ever makes 
Life’s sweetest smiles from tears 
It is a daybreak to our hopes 
A sunset to our fears. 

One while it bids the tears to flow, 
Then wipes them from the eyes, 
Most often fills our soul with joy, 
And always sanctifies. 

Within a thought so great, our souls 
Little and modest grow, 
And, by its vastness awed, we learn 
The art of walking slow. —Frederick William Faber

Poetry Saturday—Overheard In An Orchard

dsc_0023Said the Robin to the Sparrow:
     “I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
     Rush about and worry so.”

Said the Sparrow to the Robin:
     “Friend, I think that it must be
They have no Heavenly Father
     Such as cares for you and me.”
—Elizabeth Cheney

How Wolves Change Rivers

wolfThe beauty, inter-depdence and resiliency that our Creator masterfully designed into His creation is breathtaking! As I watched this video, I couldn’t help but imagining God’s smile as scientists learn what He knew all along!

 

Poetry Saturday—The Oyster

Pearl oysterThere once was an oyster, whose story I’ll tell,
Who found that some sand had gotten into his shell.
It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain,
For oysters have feelings, although they are plain.
Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate
That had brought him to such a deplorable state?
“No,” he said to himself, “since I cannot remove it,
I’ll lie in my shell and think how to improve it.”
They years rolled around, as the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate destiny… stew.
Now the small grain of sand that had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.
This tale has a moral, for isn’t it grand,
What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?
Think… what could we do, if we’d only begin
With some of the things that get under our skin. —Anonymous (I heard this poem as a part of a brilliant message on dealing with life’s irritations)
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