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Archive for January 25th, 2011

All week-days are “weak” days

compared to the Strength of the Lord’s

 Day.         

 – eab, 1/9/11

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What think ye of the universe?

 

Was in written in prose,

 

or in blank verse

– eab, 1/8/11

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I love you Lord Jesus, I love you fine Lord,

Who can wondrously, carelessly, joyfully afford,

To wind up your wind machine and run it all night,

To help humble Jews escape Egypt, in flight.

It plowed through the Sea called red burrowing, pushing

Water to north of it, water to south creating an isthmus

Creating the opposite of a stream mouth.

The wind came from the east, plowing a groove

Of dry sandy, marching ground in the sea’s belly,

Piling water north of it, stacked up like jelly,

And water to south of it equally stood,

(Waves folded their hands, as all good waves should.)

And when you were done proving You could

Do what those gods were falsely proclaimed,

(Showing how they were all illfully named)

You closed up your wind machine, closed it so tightly,

Egyptians were caught in it, sadly but mightily.

 

I love you Lord Jesus, I love you fine Lord,

Who out of your heavenly cabinet and board,

Could skillfully, willingly, immensely let rain,

A small seed-like substance again and again.

It covered the ground around camp and then some,

Till the slowest and lowest had finally come

And picked up their pot-full of heaven’s light bread

Carrying it tent-ward on shoulder or on head.

You send down the manna one morning, then two,

One-hundred times, then thousands (days flew!)

And when finally the last Jew had placed his dry sandal,

On the west bank of Jordan forty years later,

Your bounty could’ve (without poverty or scandal)

Furnished more manna, yes, manna galore.

Who knows the amount of God’s kitchen-store?

 

I love you Lord Jesus, I love you fine Lord

Who can cause selfish followers have an accord,

(“See eye to eye?” – Didn’t say that

Some still wore odd color or a strange little hat)

But heart-wise they stood united at last,

Divisions o’er power and popularity past,

Each loved his sister and loved his brother,

Preferring the glory be shared with another,

Pride had all vanished, blown away by the “Wind”

That hearty and heavenly one, You did send.

Love was now uppermost in the upper room,

Joy was abundant, gone was all gloom.

Peace, You gave unto them, Peace by-the-pail,

And along came longsuffering, that never did fail,

Rough fishermen and a rougher collector of money,

Became gentle in heart, and sweeter than honey.

Your boundless and beautiful goodness you lent them,

It stood good that day and wherever You sent them,

And faith O, such faith as only You could impart,       

You poured in faith here, and faith there, at the start,

And as they used it, You supplied faith the more,

There was faith to raise the dead, faith to implore,

And twenty hundred years away from that great day,

Faith’s still available – Help me Lord I pray.

 

You precious Jesus, You loving Lord,

Supplied Your men meekness.  Meekness You afford.

Not weakness under pressure but power to be still,

Awaiting the outcome of a Savior’s loving will.

Oh, the luscious fruit of the Upper room.

Oh, the life that came from an empty tomb.

God give us today a newness of vision,

An awareness that Your miraculous provision,

Stopped not with the shores of distant Galilee,

But flows on today, flows on to me,

And finally temperance, You gave without measure;

(Having a little can also be great treasure.)

Saying “no” to a meal or “no” to a drink

Might make the glutton and drunkard think,

That there’s more to life than plate or cup,

Don’t look down at “de feet” Look up, Look up.

The God who drove the groove, through the ancient sea,

And supplied manna without charge, bill, or fee,

And sent His Comforter in Pentecost past,

Still lives, Still loves, Still yearns to cast,

Ones carnal old troubles away from His men,

And place all the fruit of the Spirit within.

Great God of the Testaments, glorious and bold,

Revisit Your people as You did of old.

I love you Lord Jesus, I love you fine Lord,

Living, eternal, loving, gentle Word.   

                – eab, ‘03

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On this date, 1/25/1738, John Wesley is said to have penned in his journal,

“I went to America to convert the Indians.  But oh!  Who shall convert me?  I have a fair summer religion…But let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled.”

He had come here as a “missionary.”     (How many modern pastors are unconverted?) 

Thank the Lord John Wesley was genuinely converted to Christ on May 24th (of that same year) at 8:45 PM, at Aldersgate Chapel, London.  To his journal he again turned, stating, “I felt my heart strangely warmed…”

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