Poem by John F. Brand — One Thing More Beautiful

The little girl hated her freckles,

Of which she had quite a few,

And when someone would tease her

She didn’t know what to do.

Grandma said, “They’re beautiful!

I wanted some when I was small.

Now name me one thing that’s prettier,

Just name one thing, that’s all.”

The little girl quickly dried her tears,

And looking up into Grandma’s face,

She said just one word ---- “Wrinkles”

And a smile did her tears replace.

Anecdote by Unknown — Christian Comparison

            Max Jukes lived in New York . He did not believe in Christ, and refused to take his children to church even when they asked to go. He had 1,026 descendants; 200 were sent to prison for an average term of 13 years, 190 were prostitutes and 680 were admitted alcoholics. The family has, thus far, cost the state in excess of $5 million. For all intents and purposes, they have made little or no contribution to society.

            Jonathan Edwards lived in the same state; at the same time. He loved the Lord, and made sure his children were in church each Sunday as he served the Lord to the best of his ability. He had 929 descendants. Of these, 430 were ministers, 96 became university presidents, 75 authored books, five were elected representatives and two became U.S. senators. One became Vice President of our country. His family cost the state not ONE DOLLAR, but has contributed immeasurably to the life of plenty that you and I enjoy.

            This brings the question. What is Christian behavior? Where is it found in everyday life? In the home, it is kindness; in business, it is honesty; in work, thoroughness; in play, it is fairness; toward the fortunate, it is congratulations; toward the unfortunate, it is pity; toward the weak it is help; toward the strong, it is trust; toward the penitent; it is forgiveness; toward God, it is reverence and love.

Poem by George Matheson — Make Me A Captive

Make me a captive, Lord,

  And then I shall be free;

Force me to render up by sword,

  And I shall conqueror be,

I sink in life’s alarms

   Where by myself I stand;

Imprison me within Thine arms,

  And strong shall be my hand.

My heart is weak and poor

  Until it master find;

It has no spring of action sure ---

  It varies with the wind.

It cannot freely move

  Till Thou hast wrought its chain;

Enslave it with Thy matchless love,

   And deathless it shall reign.

My power is faint and low

  Till I have learned to serve;

It wants the needed fire to glow,

  It wants the breeze to nerve;

It cannot drive the world

  Until itself be driven;

Its flag can only be unfurled

  When Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

My will is not my own

   Till Thou hast made it Thine;

If it would reach a monarch’s throne

   It must its crown resign;

It only stands unbent

   Amid the clashing strife,

When on Thy bosom it has leant

   And found in Thee its life.

Poem by Joyce Kilmer — The King Of Glory Enters In

No longer of Him, be it said,

“He hath no place to lay His head.”

In every land a constant lamp

Flames by His small and mighty camp.

There is no strange and distant place

That is not gladdened by His face.

And every nation kneels to hail

The splendor shining through its veil.

Cloistered beside the shouting street

Silent, He calls me to His feet.

Imprisoned for His love of me,

He makes my spirit greatly free.

And through my life that uttered sin

The King of Glory enters in.

Poem by John Newton — Looking Unto Jesus

Since Christ the Saviour I have known

My rules are all reduced to one

To keep my Lord, by faith, in view,

This strength supplies, and motives, too.

To look to Jesus as He rose,

Confirms my faith, disarms my foes,

Satan I shame and overcome,

By pointing to my Saviour’s tomb.

Exalted on His glorious throne,

I see Him make my cause His own,

Then all my anxious cares subside,

For Jesus lives and will provide.

By faith I see the hour at hand,

When in His presence I shall stand;

Then it will be my endless bliss

To see Him where and as He is.

Poem by Unknown — You Tell On Yourself

You tell what you are by the friends you seek,

By the very manner in which you speak,

By the way you employ your leisure time,

By the use you make of dollar and dime.

 You tell what you are by the things you wear,

By the spirit in which you burdens bear,

By the kind of things t which you laugh,

By records you play on the phonograph.

You tell what you are by the way you walk,

By the things of which you delight to talk,

By the manner in which you bear defeat,

By so simple a thing as how you eat.

By the books you choose from the well-filled shelf;

In these ways and more, you tell on yourself,

S there’s really no particle of sense

In an effort to keep up false pretense.

Poem by Robert Murray M’Cheyne — I Am A Debtor

When the passing world is done,

When has sunk yon glaring sun,

When we stand with Christ in glory,

Looking o’er life’s finished story;

Then, Lord, shall I fully know ----

Not till then ---- how much I owe.

When I stand before the throne,

Dressed in beauty not my own;

When I see Thee as thou art,

Love thee with unsinning heart,

Then, Lord, shall I fully know ----

Not till then ---- how much I owe.

Chosen not for good in me,

Wakened up from wrath to flee;

Hidden in the Saviour’s side,

By the Spirit sanctified;

Teach me, Lord, on earth to show,

By my love, how much I owe.

Poem by William Cowper — Light Shinning Out Of Darkness

God moves in a mysterious way,

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,

And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace;

Behind a frowning providence,

He hides a smiling face.

His purpose will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan His work in vain;

God is His own interpreter,

And He will make it plain

Poem by O. W. Holmes — O Love Divine

O Love Divine! That stooped to share

Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,

On Thee we cast each earth-born care,

We smile at pain, while Thou art near.

Though long the weary way we tread,

And sorrow crown each lingering year,

No path we shun, no darkness dread

Our hearts still whispering, Thou are near.

On Thee we fling our burdening woe,

O Love Divine, forever dear;

Content to suffer, while we know

Living or dying, Thou are near!