SPIRITUAL POETRY

The Pull of His Love

I wandered one day to the top of a hill,
Where a lad with a string scanned the sky.
"Just why are you here, lad, please tell if you will."
"I am flying my kite way up high."
Then I quickly replied, "Lad, I see no such kite,
Nought but clouds chasing birds on the wing."
"Never fear," said the lad, "All is well with my flight.
I can tell by the pull on the string."

"Just how do you know there's a God way up high?"
Asked the one with no songs left to sing.
Then I pondered but failed for no help could supply,
Till I thought of the lad with the string.
Tho' God's face I've not seen, still the joy that He gives,
And the peace that He sends from above
Prove my God is not myth, for I know that he lives,
I can tell by the pull of His love.

God's Decree

"Grow old, --but do it gracefully."
T'is said by those who fail to see--
That age and grace are leagues apart;
For grace needs youth to ply her art.
She scorns the need for wooden canes,
Has never learned to smile through pains.
One stumbles so when eyes are blurred;
So, "gracefully" is not the word.

"Grow old, --but do it gratefully,"
For golden years which soon may flee;
For breath of life; for deeds well done;
For splendor of the setting sun;
But best of all for hovered hands--
Of Him who loves and understands.
For time moves on, it's His decree,
"Grow old, --but do it gratefully."

My Song

Jesus loves me, this I know,
Sweet refrain of long ago.
Little ones to Him belong;
Sing again that childhood song.

Helter-skelter is our pace,
Striving vainly for first place.
Hurry, hurry, 'long life's way,
Seldom pausing just to pray.
O dear Lord, is there no end
To this ever madding trend?

In the stillness of the night
Comes sweet strains of sheer delight.
Jesus loves me, though I'm old;
Sweetest story ever told.

A Carpet, Red

A missionary needing rest,
Stepped off his plane at God's request.
He was surprised to hear and see --
A welcome crowd wave joyfully.
The crimson carpet they unrolled,
But not for him, he then was told.

"Please God," he prayed, most fervently,
"For Thee I've toiled, - please grant to me --
If I have favor in Thy sight --
A carpet, red, to walk aright."

Then, looking down, God heard his plea.
"My son, you've labored faithfully.
A carpet, red, - in time you'll get;
Your home you have not reached, - just yet."

A Piece of the Rock

I now own, by His grace, quite a Piece of the Rock.
Not a mite could I pay towards the price of this Block.
It was purchased for me,
On the old rugged tree,
And I'll hide in it's Cleft till His arms 'round me lock.

Somebody but Who?

On a hill that's called Mars' stood a statue of stone.
T'was erected to God though His name was not known;
And today that dear name is oft slighted by man -
When he sings with great gusto as only he can.

"There is Sombebody greater than you, friend, or I,"
For this reverent "Man now upstairs" in the sky -
And "Who's got the whole world in His hands" so secure,
Is the "Someone who cares" and who "likes me" I'm sure.

If your God is worth singing or chanting about,
Your allegiance to Him never should be in doubt;
So, instead of a "Someone" who's true to the end,
It's far better to claim Him as God and your Friend.