Poetry Saturday—Before The Throne Of God Above

November 27, 2021 — Craig T. Owens

Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple, Spotify, or Audible.

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea,
A great High Priest whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart;
I know that while in heav’n He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart,
No tongue can bid me thence depart. 


When satan tempts me to despair


And tells me of the guilt within,


Upward I look and see Him there


Who made an end of all my sin.


Because the sinless Savior died,


My sinful soul is counted free;


For God the Just is satisfied


To look on Him and pardon me,


To look on Him and pardon me. 




Behold Him there! The risen Lamb,


My perfect, spotless righteousness;


The great unchangeable “I AM,”


The King of glory and of grace!


One with Himself I cannot die,


My soul is purchased by His blood;


My life is hid with Christ on high,


With Christ, my Savior and my God,


With Christ, my Savior and my God. —Charitie Lees Bancroft




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Poetry Saturday—Upon A Life I Have Not Lived

June 12, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple or Spotify.



Upon a Life I have not lived,


Upon a Death I did not die,


Another’s Life; Another’s Death,


I stake my whole eternity.




Not on the tears which I have shed,


Not on the sorrows I have known,


Another’s tears; Another’s griefs,


On these I rest, on these alone.




O Jesus, Son of God,


I build on what Thy Cross has done for me;


There both my death and life I read,


My guilt, and pardon there I see.




Lord, I believe; O deal with me,


As one who has Thy Word believed!


I take the gift, Lord, look on me,


As one who has Thy gift received. —Horatius Bonar




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Poetry Saturday—Arise, My Soul, Arise

March 6, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple or Spotify.



Arise, my soul, arise,


shake off your guilty fears;


The bleeding sacrifice,


in my behalf appears;


Before the throne my Surety stands,


Before the throne my Surety stands,


My name is written on His hands.




He ever lives above,


for me to intercede;


His all redeeming love,


His precious blood, to plead;


His blood atoned for every race,


His blood atoned for every race,


And sprinkles now the throne of grace.




Five bleeding wounds He bears;


received on Calvary;


They pour effectual prayers;


they strongly plead for me:


“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,


“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,


“Nor let that ransomed sinner die!”




The Father hears Him pray,


His dear anointed One;


He cannot turn away


the presence of His Son;


The Spirit answers to the blood,


The Spirit answers to the blood


And tells me I am born of God.




My God is reconciled;


His pardoning voice I hear;


He owns me for His child;


I can no longer fear


With confidence I now draw nigh,


With confidence I now draw nigh,


And “Father, Abba, Father,” cry. —Charles Wesley




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Poetry Saturday—The Precious Blood

September 21, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Before Your Cross I kneel and see


the heinousness of my sin,


my iniquity that caused You to be


‘made a curse,’


the evil that excites the severity of divine wrath.




Show me the enormity of my guilt by


the crown of thorns,


the pierced hands and feet,


the bruised body,


the dying cries.




Your blood is the blood of incarnate God,


its worth infinite, its value beyond all thought.


Infinite must be the evil and guilt


that demands such a price.




Sin is my condition, my monster, my foe, my viper,


born in my birth,


alive in my life,


strong in my character,


dominating my faculties


following me as a shadow,


intermingling with my every thought,


my chain that holds me captive in the empire of my soul.




Sinner that I am, why should the sun give me light,


the air supply breath,


the earth bear my treat,


its fruit nourish me,


its creatures serve my ends?




Yet, Your compassion yearns over me,


Your heart hastens to my rescue,


Your love endured my curse,


Your mercy bore my deserved stripes.




Let me walk humbly in the lowest depths of humility,


bathed in Your blood


tender of conscience,


triumphing gloriously as an heir of salvation. —Arthur Bennett








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Thanksgiving Prayer

November 28, 2013 — Craig T. Owens 




This is part of George Washington’s Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1789—


George Washington at prayer“…May we also unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech Him—


To pardon our national and other transgressions,


To enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually,


To render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed,


To protect and guide all nations and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord,


To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science,


And generally to grant unto all mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as He alone knows to be best.”


Amen!






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