Archive for December, 2008

Are You Serving?

We serve God by choice or

      we don’t serve Him at all.  – 5/21/08

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His hair was the color of new-mown straw,

His eyes were the color of ice, in the thaw,

His cheeks were the color of a fresh, pink rose,

And His teeth all stood in nice even rows.

I had a little kid.


He was the second in our family line.

He was “blessed” with a laugh just like mine.

He could eat like a man off a two-day fast;

And win my heart, the punishment past.

I had a little kid.


Lincoln Scarbrough Bryan was his full name;

Lincoln – that man of pure and honest fame,

Scarbrough – the maiden name of his NICE mom,

Bryan – the Irish ancestry that he came from.

I had a little kid.            – eab, 4/’70             [1]

[1] Our second son, born 12/29/66, Christ Hospital, Cincinnati; named for the greatest US President and my wife’s maiden name.

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“Almost Persuaded”

“Almost persuaded” now to believe;
“Almost persuaded” Christ to receive;
Seems now some soul to say,
“Go, Spirit, go Thy way,
Some more convenient day
On Thee I’ll call.”

“Almost persuaded,” come, come today;
“Almost persuaded,” turn not away;
Jesus invites you here,
Angels are lingering near
Prayers rise from hearts so dear;
O wanderer, come!

“Almost persuaded,” harvest is past!
“Almost persuaded,” doom comes at last!
“Almost” cannot avail;
“Almost” is but to fail!
Sad, sad, that bitter wail—
“Almost,” but lost!

Philip P Bliss died this date 12/29/1876, near Ashtabula, Ohio, in a train wreck.  It is said that he escaped death once (with the fall) but death caught him when he turned back into the burning train to try to rescue his wife.  He was only thirty-eight.  Of his many songs “I Will Sing of My Redeemer,” is interesting because it was discovered in trunk on different train that night.

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Are we adding to God’s Word


          by insisting on using a word (rapture),


                             not in His Word?                   5/26/08




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At times – who can but honestly admit the stage?

The family altar would be calm and dry.

No quiver filled the voice, no moisture trimmed the eye.

Yon Ancient History stayed just that – flat as the page.

Distant battles were read, but did not seem to rage.

Light, the soul of poetry, was not freshly lit.

Finally – devotions closed, they closed with a sigh.


Ah, but those other nights – precious, dear other nights,

In moments for which no dad or moma prepares;

A son [1] leading out in prayer, thanks God for his stairs.

Verses once seen but darkly, take on brighter lights,

God illuminates truth which once held no delights.

His Word will not return to Him void

He Himself, so solemnly declares.         – eab, 9/97

[1] Our second son, Lincoln, about the time he started school, did this – it brought a smile to my praying face and then (as I realized his sincerity) it brought tears to my eyes.  This family altar was on Goodbread Street, Nevada, OH.

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“My Home, Sweet Home”

Walking along life’s road one day,

I heard voice so sweetly say,

“A place up in heav’n I am building Thee,

A beautiful, beautiful home.”



Home, sweet home, home, sweet home,

Where I’ll never roam;

I see the light of that city so bright,

My home, sweet home.

N B Vandall (N stood for Napoleon) was born this date 12/28/1896, in Creston, VW.  He was converted to Christ at a camp meeting in/near Sebring, Ohio in 1920.  He also wrote “After” (“After the toil and heat of the day.”  Vandall died 8/24/1970.

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Get beyond the sounds

No more than you would equate mite with might


Please do not confuse “rite” with “right  – eab, 12/27/08

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