Poetry Saturday—Don’t Quit

Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low but the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit…
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit!

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many failures turn about
When we might have won had we stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow…
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out…
And you can never tell how close you are
It may be near when it seems so far.
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit. —Edgar A. Guest

 

Poetry Saturday—Smiles

Smile a little, smile a little, 
    As you go along, 
Not alone when life is pleasant, 
    But when things go wrong. 
Care delights to see you frowning, 
    Loves to hear you sigh; 
Turn a smiling face upon her, 
    Quick the dame will fly.

Smile a little, smile a little, 
    All along the road; 
Every life must have its burden, 
    Every heart its load. 
Why sit down in gloom and darkness, 
    With your grief to sup? 
As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic 
    Smile across the cup.

Smile upon the troubled pilgrims 
    Whom you pass and meet; 
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms 
    Oft for weary feet. 
Do not make the way seem harder 
    By a sullen face, 
Smile a little, smile a little, 
    Brighten up the place.

Smile upon your undone labor; 
    Not for one who grieves 
O’er his task, waits wealth or glory; 
    He who smiles achieves. 
Though you meet with loss and sorrow 
    In the passing years, 
Smile a little, smile a little, 
    Even through your tears. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poetry Saturday—O Little Flock, Fear Not The Foe

O little flock, fear not the Foe
Who madly seeks your overthrow;
Dread not his rage and power.
What though your courage sometimes faints,
His seeming triumph o’er God’s saints
Lasts but a little hour.

Be of good cheer; your cause belongs
To Him who can avenge your wrongs;
Leave it to Him, our Lord.
Though hidden yet from mortal eyes,
His Gideon shall for you arise,
Uphold you and His Word.

As true as God’s own Word is true.
Not earth nor hell with all their crew
Against us shall prevail.
A jest and byword are they grown;
God is with us, we are His own;
Our victory cannot fail. —Johann M. Altenburg

 

Poetry Saturday—What Do You Have?

Moses had a staff.
David had a sling.
Samson had a jawbone.
Rahab had a string.
Mary had some ointment.
Aaron had a rod.
Dorcas had a needle.
All were used of God.
What do you have? —Max Lucado, in You!

Poetry Saturday—Love In Triplets

The Father says, “I love you, child.”
But those by baser things beguiled
ignore the witness of things wild.

The Son extends His hands to say,
“I love you, child; come, walk My way.”
 We nail His hands, then turn astray.

The Spirit, armed with saving grace,
“I love you!” says, right in your face
and takes your heart in His embrace.

So when that small, bright bloom you see,
that lure waved by the Deity,
then from those leaflets, one in three,
receive God’s love, unhurriedly. —T. M. Moore, Bricks and Rungs

“Love’s Labor”

Work is no curse; from the beginning we
were made for work, to seek the goodness of
the Lord, to multiply His beauty, love,
and truth, and serve His creatures happily.
When work is as a gift and ministry
received, a sacred calling from above,
then will each labor be engaged with love
and excellence, imparting dignity
and grace to those it serves, that they may see
in every labor a reflection of
the God who by His sacrifice of love
has worked the miracle that sets us free.
   You are love’s labor, everyone can see,
   especially as you labor long with Me. —T.M. Moore, from his book Bricks And Rungs

“Common Things”

You never, Heraclitus claimed,
step in the same stream twice.
Appearances may seem the same
(familiarity’s to blame,
or each things never-changing name),
but heed that Greek’s advice.
There’s more to life than meets the eye
or dances on the ear.
The moments of our lives flow by,
fraught with potential we might try;
yet, deaf to their sweet siren cry,
we neither see nor hear.
But hidden in each common thing
and every routine sound,
in leafless trees, on flashing wing,
the song that common sparrows sing,
and each arriving email’s “Ding!”
are wonders to be found.
Step through, then, into unseen worlds
where mysteries abound.
Eternal truths will be unfurled,
and nagging doubts behind you hurled
when your poor soul is slowly swirled,
turned upright and around
in common things profound. —T.M. Moore, from his book Bricks And Rungs
%d bloggers like this: