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Posts Tagged ‘East Tennessee’

Thank You Lord,

For Thy salvation plan,

The glorious privilege,

You have given man

To live above sin.

 

The privilege of moving

Forever out,

Of the quicksand traps

Of fear and doubt,

That man was born in.

          – eab, 7/76

Written while pastoring in East Tennessee, Blount Co, Friendsville

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To be a simple soul, with simple taste,

To love frugality while hating waste,

To love a lot, but require a lot less.

Is to make a life that will always bless.

A timely space on life’s path of haste.

 

The simple soul does not bespeak,

A simple minded, blinded freak.

The simple mind is dead to decisions,

The simple soul is one of precisions.

Pursuing the best, in a picture that is bleak.

 

The simple soul, whose demands are few,

Isn’t charmed by the magic words “modern” and “new.”

It’s the timeless values, centuries old and holding,

Bright and fresh, clear and never molding,

That interest him and truly satisfy too.

 

The simple is convenient, complete, and free.

The simple is open for all looking to see.

The simple is permanent, that is, nearly so,

And the simple is now, and always for me.

                        – eab, 6/15/75

Written while pastoring in East Tennessee just weeks before buying the campus in Friendsville, Blount Co.

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For thousands of years it had been thus;

Day – then dusk – and the dark.

Light to night. 

It seemed absurd,

That the negative would be the last to be heard,

And positive leave without a remark.

 

As it had done, now it came again,

Beauty – then border – and then black.

Light to night,

Brilliant to dull;

Beautiful landscapes and pastels now null,

By the absence of sunlight, Oh, the lack.  – eab, 12/14/79

Written in East Tennessee, while pastoring Christ Church-Bible Methodist

 

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People come, and people go,

And people are forgotten.

Pride is such a fleeting thing,

And fame – it is half rotten.

The Lord rules, and the Lord reigns,

The Lord, He is forever.

The only place of lasting worth,

Is in His holy favor.  – eab, 8/84

 

Penned in Blount Co., in East Tennessee

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Pick up the loose holly leaves,

Sweep the carpet and then,

Pack the wreath away to stay,

In the Christmas-stuff, storage bin.

Untwine the silver ribbons,

From chandelier so thin,

Slow down the pace of this place,

For Christmas is over again.

 

Chop the tree into firewood,

Place used boxes away.

The train for lad (and Dad),

Crate up for the next special day.

Candles and fancy paper,

In the seat by “the bay,”

Right beside the gowns that hide,

The shepherds in each Christmas play.

 

Does the Spirit of Christmas

Likewise, find Itself packed

And, with the pear tree, to be

In the far away attic stacked?

Oh – It will be used next year,

No luster will be lacked;

Unless abuse or disuse,

Find It broken or sadly cracked.

 

May the Spirit of Christmas be left intact.

Leave It, please leave It, unpacked!

The more that you choose It,

And prayerfully use It,

The less likely It is to be cracked.  – eab, 12/14/81

Penned in the Quaker-founded villege of Friendsville, TN (that is in East Tennessee, Blount Co.)

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If shepherds hadn’t been watching their charge,

As all good shepherds do.

If they hadn’t been dutifully faithful,

In spite of damp and dew.

If men of sheep hadn’t sheep-minded been,

The long winter night through;

They’d have missed that chorus grandly suspended,

Announcing centuries of prophecy ended,

In notes and quality, in minors and ranges, so large –

Masterfully blended.

 

If wise men hadn’t been looking upward,

As wise men want to do.

If ancient scholars hadn’t known the sky,

And humbly, knew, they knew.

If star-spangled men hadn’t known their flag,

The night that star first flew.

They’d have missed the invitation of all earth,

To rejoice in the King of Creation’s birth;

The astronomical discovery worthy of reward –

Announcing Royal worth.          – eab, 12/80

 

Written while I worked with Christ College and Christ Academy in East Tennessee.

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