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Posts Tagged ‘Friendsville’

A lone walnut chanced to drop upon the sod alone,

Where it seemed to lie and simply rot, quietly, forlorn.

Its form was changed, its symmetry gone.

Its kernel worthless to eat,

What an untimely end thus to met.

 

Deep inside its little heart new life was beginning.

Oh, for a fresh start (another game – not a new inning).

A root from it ranged, a shoot saw the dawn,

A tree, from apparent loss.

Victory is always worth the cross.  – eab, 1/16/78

Written while working with Christ College in Friendsville, TN  

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He was announced to Mary

His mother for earthly mold.

She knew He’d be special,

For she had been foretold.

 

And He was announced to Joseph

Temporal man at family’s head.

– Joseph married anyway –

His greatness is still read.

 

He was announced to herders,

‘Round campfires on Judah‘s hills;

Men know for their roughness –

Flesh, less frivolous frills.

 

Creatures from Glorious Yonder,

Harmonized them on the wing.

Announcements were made in verse.

Song is a wondrous thing!

 

He was announced to wise ones,

Far across Near Eastern sand.

Twilight’s lavender shade,

A new star joined the band.

 

“It can mean but one thing,” they said,

“A new head there is to crown.”

Camel and prince, and his gift

Traversed waves sifty, brown.

 

Each old herald in manner,

Is thanked for his timely thought,

But from their time, to ours,

The news had to be brought.

 

Burlap-clad, unsung, greats of yore

Told son’s sons, time on time.

Some traveled long, hard and late

In a worse, foreign clime.

 

Decades passed the Word along;

Announcements were made to tribes;

Were made in chieftain’s huts

Via tokens and bribes,

 

Were made inside the palace gates,

Were made to craftsman and slave,

To the weak, growing weaker,

To brawny man, thought brave.

 

Until, O Joyous Hour,

(After centuries of trust

It still was being told,

For telling it is a must)

 

Someone announced His birth to you –

To me, the story was clear.

Throughout this Christmas Season,

May their mem’ry be dear.        – eab, 12/83

 

Penned in Friendsville, Tennessee on the western edge of Blount County.

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Before the fall of satanic force,

When lucifer fell from realms of right,

Christ was totally in charge, of course,

The Commander of pre-sunshine light.

 

When Eden and its surroundings greened,

Immediately, to the Master’s phrase.

From the Scriptures, it is easily gleaned,

Christ was there, in His Creative days.

 

When Christ, the Commoner, graced the stall,

The sheep, nor their shepherds understood,

That the coming of this Newborn, small,

Would be to all humanities good.

 

Many years there lived and labored hard,

The Carpenter of Nazareth town.

Learned the trade without quota or card,

Before He laid all the mallets down.

 

Christ the Compassionate, He became;

Easing the ill ones, touching the blind,

Going where mortals were halt or lame,

Leaving a trail of walkers behind.

 

Sinful men rejected His teaching.

They schemed, and connived and even lied.

Pilate’s water could do no bleaching,

When Jesus died: Christ the Crucified.

 

The grave was guarded.  The stone? Immense.

Even the Roman seal was in place.

Then Christ, the Conqueror, came from hence,

Vanquishing death, when met face to face.

 

He came, He left, He will soon appear,

Forever, to be in fullest charge!

Christ the Commander, without a fear,

Ruling then, the universe-at-large.

 

Commander, Creator, Commoner,

Carpenter, Compassionate, all five.

Crucified, and then death’s Conqueror,

Without which there’d be no hope alive.

 

Commander again as once before;

The difference?  The life He lived with man.

That Gift man commemorates of yore.

Praise Him, Laud Him, for this wondrous plan. –eab, 12/76

 

Written while pastor of Christ Church-Bible Methodist and Associate Director of Christ College and Christ Academy, Friendsville, TN. 

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Christmas is more than an attitude,

            It is an awesome, appreciated action.

Christmas is more than a beatitude,

            It is a bountiful baptism of Blessing.

Christmas is more than commerce,

            It is the Christ child, commencing.

Christmas is more than a diversion,

            It is a Divine, daring Donation.

Christmas is more than an event,

            It is the encouraging entry to Eternity.

Christmas is more than a folly,

            It is the final fulfillment of Fidelity.

Christmas is more than genteelment,

            It is the grand Goodness of glory.

Christmas is more than holly,

            It is a hallowed, Holy harmony.

Christmas is more than an incident,

            It is an including, impelling Invitation.

Christmas is more than jolliness,

            It is Joseph with Jesus, journeying.

Christmas is more than a kaleidoscope,

            It is the kindly, knowledgeable King.

Christmas is more than lovely,

            It is a lighting, lifting, life-Love.

Christmas is more than monumental,

            It is multitudes of millennia moving.

Christmas is more than a nicety,

            It is a need, now and never ending.

Christmas is more than official,

            It is One, omnipotent Offering.

Christmas is more than perennial,

            It is a precious, personal Presentation.

Christmas is more than quantity,

            It is the quiet quintessence of Quality.

Christmas is more than a roast-corn rope,

            It is the Right, revealed religiously.

Christmas is more than a sensation,

            It is Salvation for souls in sincerity.

Christmas is more than tinsel,

            It is Triumph, truly and totally.

Christmas is more than the unusual,

            It is the unprecedented, urgent Union.

Christmas is more than a vacation,

            It is a vicarious Victory of valuing.

Christmas is more than wanting,

            It is a wandering world wondering.

Christmas is more than a xylophone,

            It is a xiphod, xyster, xenium.

Christmas is more than yearning,

            It is the yielding of a yeanling, you.

Christmas is more than a zest zone,

            It is the zenith of zeal in Zion.

Christmas is more than an Alphabet,

            It is Alpha & Omega, the Beginning & the Ending.

                        – eab, 12/4&5/76

 

Penned while pastoring Christ Church and working with Christ College in Friendsville, Tennessee.

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He was laid in a wooden manger.

Played with shavings from the plane;

Knew the smell of cedar – sawn,

Could distinguish the oaken grain.

 

He preached from a wooden sailboat.

Called down Zacchaeus from a tree;

He cursed the fruitless old olive,

And, it dried up thoroughly.

 

He carried a wooden cross.

Than another shouldered the frame.

And since that infamous, ancient day,

Wood, crosses, haven’t been the same–eab, 10/82

 

Written while I pastored Christ Church – Bible Methodist, Friendsville, TN

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A rock and a tree are side by side,

The one alive, the other never died.

The one trim and tall, the other squat,

One “changeless,” the other will rot.

The one was here when Adam was here,

When human’s first sin brought the first stinging tear.

It felt the lap of The Flood in its face,

And knew earth’s tremor, when Christ died in disgrace.   -eab, 11/77

 

Written while pastoring Christ Chruch-Bible Methodist, Friendsville, Tennessee

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For a brief moment only,

A butterfly landed,

Before it expanded,

Its wings and moved on.

But that moment revealed

Such orange and black splendor,

Such structure such form,

As only a Creator could render;

That one wonders why, with butterflies around,

Atheist, agnostics, or their kind can be found.

 

And another thought persists on presentation.

Such beauty, though of such brief revelation,

Was still beauty. 

Beauty, howe’er brief it may be,

Is still beautiful to see!

Friend, your life and mine,

Though complexed and completed by activities of time,

Is just as short by eternity’s standard,

As the moment an insect spent before it bounded.

Make it beautiful, friend, make it remembered by,

The color and structure, and years from now

When you’ve bounded away,

Its beauty will be able to stay.   -eab, 9/1975

 

Written after seeing a monarch at the first curve of graven road leading up to the water tower behind Friendsville, Tennessee.

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Be not angry with aging’s signs;

They’re but mile posts of life.

The fine, quaint lettering, interpret not with sting,
Nor quail from those neat lines

Etched by time’s trusty knife.

 

God in benevolent love,

Loving the yet unborn race,

(Imagine loving unknown, babies and adults full-grown;

Only that God-like feeling from above

Enables man to care for an exposed face!)

 

God could love, lovingly He did,

What only God would do;

He made man so outward signs would show

When life began to reach its “mid,”

The Creator thus hinted what He knew.

 

He could’ve made man and his mate,

To stay lifelong young,

To be in the prime all the time,

With no warnings of the date,

When death’s tolling had begun.

 

Instead, He planned that gradually,

With force, man’s body would signal

An ultimate truth – the passing of youth.

Signs an individual would see,

Inward, outward, very hard to make null.

 

God knew we would rush madly apace,

Be engrossed in buying and selling,

Be coming and going, “to-ing and fro-ing.”

So in wisdom, He planned the face,

As our clock for time-telling.

 

Be glad then for lines that planted

The crow’s feet and smile’s relief.

Your knowing brow signals the NOW,

Of life’s evening rays so well slanted,

And knowing – there need not be grief.  -eab, 7/80

 

written in Friendsville, Tennessee

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He made the tree on which He hung;

The earth to which it lately clung.

When innocent, it raised leafy arms,

While robins among them lived and sung.

 

He made the ore from which, by craft,

With forge white-hot and windy draft,

The town blacksmith sledged, with sinewed arms,

Long nails; innocent of greed or graft.

 

He made the sponge, carelessly raised,

Knew the near pool where it had “grazed,”

Commanding food with tiny arms,

Before beaching innocent and dazed.

 

He made the sources, rich in ink,

Where artist oft gave his pen drink,

Scrolling with careful, innocent arms:

“The King of the Jews,” making folks think.

 

He made the men, that unmade Him.

Knew their thoughts, goals, and every whim.

And as they nailed holy feet and arms,

Heaven’s innocence He prayed on them. -eab, fall ‘82

 

written in Friendsville, Tennessee

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The mighty oak from an acorn came,

Bursting, throbbing, growing in strain;

Pulled up by the light, pushed up by the rain.

It didn’t happen over night.

 

No stalwart man is instant made.

It takes pressure, decisions, days of shade;

Pulled up by prayer, pushed by reading, rare.

Small souls and fires quickly fade.  -eab, 9/75

 

Written in Friendsville, Tennessee

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