Poetry Saturday—Give Me Jesus

April 24, 2021 — Craig T. Owens

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Gracious Lord, incline Thine ear,
My requests vouchsafe to hear;
Hear my never-ceasing cry,
Give me Jesus, or I die.


Wealth and honor I disdain,


Earthly comforts, Lord, are vain;


These can never satisfy;


Give me Jesus, or I die.




Lord, deny me what Thou wilt,


Only save my soul from guilt;


Suppliant, at Thy feet I lie,


Give me Jesus, or I die.




Weak, unholy, and unclean,


I am much defil’d with sin,


On Thy mercy I rely,


Give me Jesus, or I die.




Thou dost freely save the lost,


In Thy grace alone I trust;


With my earnest suit comply,


Give me Jesus, or I die.




Thou hast promis’d to forgive


All who in Thy Son believe;


Lord, I know Thou cans’t not lie,


Give me Jesus, or I die. —Williams Hammond




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Poetry Saturday—Eternal Spirit

April 17, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Eternal Spirit, we confess


And sing the wonders of Your grace!


Your power conveys our blessings down


From God the Father and the Son.


Enlightened by Your heavenly ray,


Our shades and darkness turn to day.


Your inward teachings make us know


Our danger and our refuge, too.


Your power and glory work within,


And break the chains of reigning sin,


Does our imperious lusts subdue,


And forms our wretched hearts anew.


The troubled conscience knows Your voice,


Your cheering words awake our joys;


Your words allay the stormy wind,


And calm the surges of the mind.




*Spurgeon used this poem as a conclusion to his sermon entitled Human Depravity and Divine Mercy. I was unable to find this poem attributed to anyone else, so I am assuming it was written by Spurgeon himself. 


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Poetry Saturday—Standing On The Promises

April 10, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Standing on the promise of Christ my King,


Through eternal ages let His praises ring,


Glory in the highest, I will shout and sing,


Standing on the promises of God.




Standing on the promises that cannot fail,


When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,


By the living Word of God I shall prevail,


Standing on the promises of God.




Standing on the promises I now can see


Perfect, present cleansing in the blood for me;


Standing in the liberty where Christ makes free,


Standing on the promises of God.




Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord,


Bound to Him eternally by love’s strong cord,


Overcoming daily with the Spirit’s sword,


Standing on the promises of God.




Standing on the promises I cannot fall,


Listening every moment to the Spirit’s call


Resting in my Savior as my all in all,


Standing on the promises of God. —Russell Kelso Carter




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Poetry Saturday—Depth Of Mercy

April 3, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Depth of mercy! can there be


Mercy still reserved for me?


Can my God His wrath forbear,


Me, the chief of sinners, spare?




I have long withstood His grace,


Long provoked Him to His face,


Would not hearken to His calls,


Grieved Him by a thousand falls.




Kindled His relentings are:


Me He now delights to spare;


Cries, “How shall I give thee up?”


Lets the lifted thunder drop.




There for me the Savior stands,


Shows His wounds and spreads His hands.


God is Love; I know, I feel;


Jesus weeps, but loves me still. ―Charles Wesley




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Poetry Saturday—Easter

March 27, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Break the box and shed the nard;




Stop not now to count the cost;


Hither bring pearl, opal, sard;


Reck not what the poor have lost;


Upon Christ throw all away:


Know ye, this is Easter Day.




Build His church and deck His shrine,


Empty though it be on earth;


Ye have kept your choicest wine—


Let it flow for heavenly mirth;


Pluck the harp and breathe the horn:


Know ye not ‘tis Easter morn?




Gather gladness from the skies;


Take a lesson from the ground;


Flowers do ope their heavenward eyes


And a Spring-time joy have found;


Earth throws Winter’s robes away,


Decks herself for Easter Day.




Beauty now for ashes wear,


Perfumes for the garb of woe,


Chaplets for dishevelled hair,


Dances for sad footsteps slow;


Open wide your hearts that they


Let in joy this Easter Day.




Seek God’s house in happy throng;


Crowded let His table be;


Mingle praises, prayer, and song,


Singing to the Trinity.


Henceforth let your souls alway


Make each morn an Easter Day. —Gerard Manley Hopkins




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Poetry Saturday—Truth

March 20, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Since the dear hour that brought me to Thy foot,


And cut up all my follies by the root,


I never trusted in an arm but Thine,


Nor hoped, but in Thy righteousness divine:


My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled,


Were but the feeble efforts of a child;


Howe’er perform’d, it was their brightest part,


That they proceeded from a grateful heart:


Cleansed in Thine own all-purifying blood,


Forgive their evil and accept their good:


I cast them at Thy feet—my only plea


Is what it was, dependence upon Thee:


While struggling in the vale of tears below,


That never fail’d, nor shall it fail me now.


Angelic gratulations rend the skies,


Pride fall unpitied, never more to rise,


Humility is crown’d, and Faith receives the prize. —William Cowper




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Poetry Saturday—My Blessing, My Proof

March 13, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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I will not be dissuaded from my view


that we shall see revival not long hence;


there’s just too much persuasive evidence


to make me think God’s promise is not true.


The many and abundant blessings, new


each day, with which we are surrounded—dense


with love divine, portending heaven, whence


they come to us, and which they witness to—


betoken greater, worldwide blessings, due


when God is pleased that they their sweet descents


should make. Our daily bounty thus presents


fresh hope that soon revival will ensue.


   My daily blessings coalesce in you,


   my Proof and foretaste of what God will do. —T.M. Moore (based on Psalm 67:6-7)




This poem is from T.M. Moore’s enjoyable book of poetry Bricks and Rungs.


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Poetry Saturday—Arise, My Soul, Arise

March 6, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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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—Yesees and Noees

February 27, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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The Yesees said yes to anything


That anyone suggested.


The Noees said no to everything


Unless it was proven and tested.


So the Yesees all died of much too much


And the Noees all died of fright,


But somehow I think the Thinkforyourselfees


All came out all right. —Shel Silverstein




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Poetry Saturday—Must I My Brother Keep?

February 20, 2021 — Craig T. Owens 




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Must I my brother keep,


And share his pain and toil;


And weep for those who weep,


And smile with those who smile;


And act to each a brother’s part,


And feel his sorrows in my heart?




Must I his burden bear,


As though it were my own,


And do as I would care,


Should to myself be done;


And faithful to his interests prove,


And as myself my neighbor love?




Then Jesus at Thy feet


A student let me be,


And learn as it is meet,


My duty, Lord, of Thee;


For Thou didst come on mercy’s plan,


And all Thy life was love to man.




Oh! make me as Thou art;


Thy Spirit, Lord, bestow—


The kind and gentle heart


That feels another’s woe.


May I be thus like Christ my Head,


And in my Savior’s footsteps tread! —Thomas Raffles




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