Poetry Saturday—Awake My Soul

Awake, my soul, and with the sun 
Thy daily stage of duty run; 
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise, 
To pay thy morning sacrifice. 
Thy precious time misspent, redeem, 
Each present day thy last esteem, 
Improve thy talent with due care; 
For the great day thyself prepare. 
By influence of the Light divine 
Let thy own light to others shine. 
Reflect all Heaven’s propitious ways 
In ardent love, and cheerful praise. 
In conversation be sincere; 
Keep conscience as the noontide clear; 
Think how all seeing God thy ways 
And all thy secret thoughts surveys. —Thomas Ken

Poetry Saturday—Christ In Me

What would it be like? To have Christ within?
To have my voice, but Him speaking.
My steps, but Christ leading.
My heart, but His love beating
in me, through me, with me.
What’s it like to have Christ on the inside?

To tap His strength when mine expires
or feel the force of heaven’s fires
raging, purging wrong desires.
Could Christ become my self entire?

So much Him, so little me
that in my eyes it’s Him they see.
No longer I, but Christ in me. —Max Lucado

Poetry Saturday—Above All

Grant me, sweet Jesus, to rest in You above every creature; 
above all health and beauty, 
above all glory and honor, 
above all power and dignity,
above all knowledge and skillfulness, 
above all riches and arts, 
above all joy and exultation, 
above all fame and praise, 
above all sweetness and consolation, 
above all hope and promise, 
above all gifts that You can give, 
above all joy the mind is able to receive; 
above everything that You, O my God, are not. —Thomas à Kempis

Poetry Saturday—I Am Praying

 

I am praying, blessed Savior,

To be more and more like Thee;
I am praying that Thy Spirit
Like a dove may rest on me.

Thou who knowest all my weakness,
Thou who knowest all my care,
While I plead each precious promise,
Hear, oh hear, and answer prayer.

I am praying to be humbled
By the power of grace divine,
To be clothed upon with meekness,
And to have no will but Thine. —Fanny Crosby

Poetry Saturday—Against A Thorn

 

Once I heard a song of sweetness,
As it cleft the morning air,
Sounding in its blest completeness,
Like a tender, pleading prayer;
And I sought to find the singer,
Whence the wondrous song was borne;
And I found a bird, sore wounded,
Pinioned by a cruel thorn.
 
I have seen a soul in sadness,
While its wings with pain were furl’d,
Giving hope, and cheer and gladness
That should bless a weeping world;
And I knew that life of sweetness,
Was of pain and sorrow raw borne,
And a stricken soul was singing,
With its heart against a thorn.
 
Ye are told of One who loved you,
Of a Saviour crucified,
Ye are told of nails that pinioned,
And a spear that pierced His side;
Ye are told of cruel scourging,
Of a Saviour bearing scorn,
And He died for your salvation,
With His brow against a thorn.
 
Ye “are not above the Master.”
Will you breathe a sweet refrain?
And His grace will be sufficient,
When your heart is pierced with pain.
Will you live to bless His loved ones,
Tho’ your life be bruised and torn,
Like the bird that sang so sweetly,
With its heart against a thorn? —Carrie Ellis Breck

Poetry Saturday—In Light Or Darkness

 

If God says “Yes” to our prayer, dear heart,
And the sunlight is golden, the sky is blue,
While the smooth road beckons to me and you,
And the song-birds warble as on we go,
Pausing to gather the buds at our feet,
Stopping to drink of the streamlets we meet,
Happy, more happy, our journey will grow,
If God says “Yes” to our prayer, dear heart.

If God says “No” to our prayer, dear heart,
And the clouds hang heavy and dull and gray;
If the rough rocks hinder and block the way,
While the sharp winds pierce us and sting with cold;
Ah, dear, there is home at the journey’s end,
And these are the trials the Father doth send
To draw us as sheep to His Heavenly fold,
If God says “No” to our prayer, dear heart. —Jessie E. Schindle

Poetry Saturday—Exhortation To Prayer

William CowperWhat various hindrances we meet
In coming to a mercy-seat!
Yet who that knows the worth of prayer,
But wishes to be often there?

Prayer makes the darken’d cloud withdraw,
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw,
Gives exercise to faith and love,
Brings every blessing from above.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight,
Prayer makes the Christian’s armor bright;
And satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

While Moses stood with arms spread wide,
Success was found on Israel’s side;
But when through weariness they fail’d,
That moment Amalek prevail’d.

Have you no words? Ah! think again,
Words flow apace when you complain,
And fill your fellow-creature’s ear
With the sad tale of all your care.

Were half the breath thus vainly spent
To Heaven in supplication sent,
Your cheerful song would oftener be,
“Hear what the Lord has done for me.” —William Cowper

 

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