Poetry Saturday—Clinging To Thee

January 11, 2020 — Craig T. Owens
O Holy Savior, Friend unseen,
Since on Thine arm Thou bidst me lean,
Help me throughout life’s varying scene
   By faith to cling to Thee.


Blest with this fellowship divine,


Take what Thou wilt, I’ll ne’er repine;


E’en as the branches to the vine,


   My soul would cling to Thee.




Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed,


Here she has found her place of rest;


An exile still, yet not unblessed,


   While she can cling to Thee.




Without a murmur I dismiss


My former dreams of earthly bliss;


My joy, my consolation this,


   Each hour to cling to Thee.




What though the world unfaithful prove,


And earthly friends and joys remove;


With sure and certain hope of love,


   Still would I cling to Thee.




Oft when I seem to tread alone


Some barren waste, with thorns o’ergrown,


Thy voice of love, in gentle tone,


   Whispers “Still cling to Me.” 




Though faith and hope may oft be tried,


I ask not, need not aught beside;


How safe, how calm, how satisfied,


   The soul that clings to Thee!




They fear not satan, nor the grave—


They feel Thee near and strong to save;


Nor dread to cross e’en Jordan’s wave,


   Because they cling to Thee.




Blessed is my lot, whate’er may befall;


What can disturb me, who appall,


While as my Strength, my Rock, my All,


   Savior, I cling to Thee? —Charlotte Elliott








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Poetry Saturday—Out Of Touch With Your Lord

January 4, 2020 — Craig T. Owens 




Only a smile, yes, only a smile,


That a woman o’er burdened with grief


Expected from you; ‘twould have given relief


For her heart ache sore the while;


But weary and cheerless she went away,


Because as it happened, that very day


You were “out of touch“ with your Lord.




Only a word, yes, only a word,


That the Spirit’s small voice whispered, “Speak”;


But the worker passed onward, unblessed and weak,


Whom you were meant to have stirred


To courage, devotion and love anew,


Because when the message came to you,


You were “out of touch“ with your Lord.




Only a note, yes, only a note,


From a friend in a distant land;


The Spirit said, “Write,” but then you had planned


Some different work, and you thought


It mattered little, you did not know


‘Twould have saved a soul from sin and woe;


You were “out of touch“ with your Lord.




Only a song, yes, only a song,


That the Spirit said, “Sing tonight—


Thy voice is thy Master’s by purchased right“;


But you thought, “Mid this motley throng


I care not to sing of the City of Gold,”


And the heart that your words might have reached grew cold;


You were “out of touch“ with your Lord.




Only a day, yes, only a day!


But, oh, can you guess, my friend,


Where the influence reaches, and where it will end


Of the hours that you frittered away?


The Master’s command is, “Abide in Me,”


And fruitless and vain will your service be,


If “out of touch“ with your Lord. —Jean H. Watson








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Poetry Saturday—Like A River Glorious

December 28, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Like a river, glorious


Is God’s perfect peace,


Over all victorious


In its bright increase;


Perfect, yet it floweth


Fuller every day,


Perfect, yet it groweth


Deeper all the way.




Stayed upon Jehovah,


Hearts are fully blest;


Finding, as He promised,


Perfect peace and rest.




Hidden in the hollow


Of His blessed hand,


Never foe can follow,


Never traitor stand;


Not a surge of worry,


Not a shade of care,


Not a blast of hurry


Touch the spirit there.




Stayed upon Jehovah,


Hearts are fully blest;


Finding, as He promised,


Perfect peace and rest.




Every joy or trial


Falleth from above,


Traced upon our dial


By the sun of love;


We may trust Him fully


All for us to do—


They who trust Him wholly


Find Him wholly true.




Stayed upon Jehovah,


Hearts are fully blest;


Finding, as He promised,


Perfect peace and rest. —Frances Ridley Havergal








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Everywhere, Everywhere Christmas Tonight

December 24, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 








christmas-stockings-and-treeEverywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight!


Christmas in lands of the fir tree and pine,


Christmas in lands of the palm tree and vine;


Christmas where snow-peaks stand solemn and white,


Christmas where corn-fields lie sunny and bright;


Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight.




Christmas where children are hopeful and gay,


Christmas where old men are patient and gray,


Christmas where peace, like a dove in its flight,


Broods o’er brave men in the thick of the fight;


Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight.




For the Christ-child who comes is the Master of all,


No place too great and no cottage too small;


The Angels who welcome Him sing from the height,


“In the city of David, a King in His might.” 


 Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight.




Then let every heart keep its Christmas within


Christ’s pity for sorrow, Christ’s hatred for sin.


Christ’s care for the weakest, Christ’s courage for right,


Christ’s dread of the darkness, Christ’s love of the light.


Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight.




So the stars of the midnight which compass us round


Shall see a strange glory, and hear a sweet sound,


And cry, “Look! the earth is aflame with delight,


O sons of the morning, rejoice at the sight.” 


Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight. —Phillips Brooks 










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Poetry Saturday—Angel Hymn

December 21, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Glory to You who have shown us the light.


Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, goodwill to all people.


We praise You, we bless You, we worship You, we glorify You, we give thanks to You for Your great glory.


Lord, King, heavenly God, Father, Almighty; Lord, the only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and Holy Spirit.


Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on us, You who take away the sins of the world. —Angel Hymn / Doxology (~300 AD)




Glory to God in the highest


and peace to His people on earth.


Lord God, heavenly King,


Almighty God and Father,


we worship You, we give You thanks,


we praise You for Your glory.


Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father,


Lord God, Lamb of God,


You take away the sin of the world:


have mercy on us;


You are seated at the right hand of the Father:


receive our prayer.


For You alone are the Holy One,


You alone are the Lord,


You alone are the Most High,


Jesus Christ,


with the Holy Spirit,


in the glory of God the Father. Amen. —updated in the Book of Common Prayer (~1975)






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Poetry Saturday—Thou Didst Leave Thy Royal Throne

December 14, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Thou didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown,


When Thou camest to earth for me;


But in Bethlehem’s Home was there found no room


For Thy Holy nativity.




O come to my heart, Lord Jesus


There is room in my heart for Thee.




Heaven’s arches rang when the angels sang,


Proclaiming Thy royal degree;


But of lowly birth didst Thou come to earth,


And in great humility.




The foxes found rest and the birds their nest


In the shade of the forest tree


But Thy couch was the sod, O Son of God


in the deserts of Galilee 




Thou camest, O Lord, with the living Word


That should set Thy people free;


But with mocking scorn, and with crown of thorn,


They bore Thee to Calvary. 




When the heavens shall ring, and the angels sing,


At Thy coming to victory


Let Thy voice call me home, saying “Yet there is room,


There is room at My side for thee.”


 


My heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus,


When Thou comest and callest for me. —Emily Elliott








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Poetry Saturday—On A Day When Men Were Counted

December 7, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




On a day when men were counted, God became the Son of Man,


That His name in every census should be entered was His plan.


God, the Lord of all creation, humbly takes a creature’s place;


He whose form no man has witnessed has today a human face.




On a night, while silent shepherds watched their flocks upon the plain,


Came a message with its summons brought by song of angel train:


Lo, in Bethlehem’s little village has arrived the shepherd King,


And each shepherd to his Master must his sheep as offering bring.




When there shone the star of David in the spangled eastern sky,


Kings arrived to pay their homage to the Christ, the Lord Most High.


Yet not all, for lo, there soundeth through the streets a fearful cry;


For a king who will not worship has decreed that Christ must die.




Yet it’s Christmas, and we greet Him, coming even now to save;


For the Lord of our salvation was not captive to the grave.


Out of Egypt came the Savior, man’s Immanuel to be—


Christmas shines with Easter glory, glory of eternity. —Daniel Thambyrajah Niles








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Poetry Saturday—Thanksgiving

November 30, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




We walk on story fields of white 


And do not see the daisies, 


For blessings common in our sight 


We rarely offer praises. 


We sigh for some supreme delight 


To crown our lives with splendor, 


And quite ignore our daily store 


Of pleasures sweet and tender.




Our cares are bold and push their way 


Upon our thought and feeling; 


They hang about us all the day, 


Our time from pleasure stealing. 


So unobtrusive many a joy 


We pass by and forget it, 


But worry strives to own our lives, 


And conquers if we let it.




There’s not a day in all the year 


But holds some hidden pleasure, 


And, looking back, joys oft appear 


To brim the past’s wide measure. 


But blessings are like friends, I hold, 


Who love and labor near us. 


We ought to raise our notes of praise 


While living hearts can hear us.




Full many a blessing wears the guise 


Of worry or of trouble; 


Far-seeing is the soul, and wise, 


Who knows the mask is double. 


But he who has the faith and strength 


To thank his God for sorrow 


Has found a joy without alloy 


To gladden every morrow.




We ought to make the moments notes


Of happy, glad thanksgiving; 


The hours and days a silent phrase 


Of music we are living. 


And so the theme should swell and grow 


As weeks and months pass o’er us, 


And rise sublime at this good time, 


A grand thanksgiving chorus. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox






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Poetry Saturday—I Do It Unto Thee

November 23, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Lord of all pots and pans and things,


since I’ve no time to be a great saint


by doing lovely things…


make me a saint by getting meals,


and washing up the plates.


Warm all the kitchen with Thy love,


and light it with Thy peace;


forgive me all my worrying,


and make my grumbling cease.


Thou Who didst love to give men food,


in room, or by the sea,


accept the service that I do,


I do it unto Thee.


Amen. —Brother Lawrence








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Poetry Saturday—Come, Thou Fount

November 16, 2019 — Craig T. Owens 




Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace; 


streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. 


Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above. 


Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it, mount of Thy redeeming love. 




Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by Thy help I’m come; 


and I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home. 


Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God; 


He, to rescue me from danger, interposed His precious blood. 




O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be! 


Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee. 


Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;


here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above. —Robert Robinson








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