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Posts Tagged ‘Hobe Sound’

Antique bed.[1]

Beside a bed he gladly said,

His prayers years ago,

Or knelt

In prayer very near there

At a chest three feet long or so.[2]

 

A dark room.[3]

In a room his soul to groom,

He went alone in student years.

Dim den,

That praying place to seek God’s face,

With voice and silent tears.

 

A new floor.[4]

A concrete floor and nothing more

He paced and prayed and praised.

Moonlight,

Satellites, revealed answers sealed;

His prayers with arms upraised.

 

Southern woods.[5]

Piney woods testified the goods

His inmost man possessed.

In path,

Calmly praying, trees heard him saying,

“Thank You” for meeting needs confessed.

 

Old school ground.[6]

Abandoned ground his heart next found;

And paths that lay beyond.

Night, Day,

In mattered not, quiet he sought,

Memories of triumphs were fond.

 

Solitude.[7]

White solitude, cool latitude,

It really doesn’t matter…at all.

Answers,

Pleas, a song (off far from the throng)

To problems gigantic and tall.

– eab, 7/77


[1] Bed at home near Rushville, Ohio as a child.

[2] This would be the cedar chest Dad built when he was 17.

[3] The dingy old Men’s Prayer Room at God’s Bible School.

[4] The (then) new tabernacle (now CEC) at Hobe Sound.

[5] The piney woods behind our house on James Street.

[6] The land west of the old Public School in Paris, Ohio.

[7] The back lot (and park near the house) in Akron.

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School and church are outgrowths of the teaching and temple of the home.

Little things bother us because we are so little.

The surest way to lose a truth is to exaggerate it.

When we put the Word to the test of our experience, we’ve gone modern.

When wise men see the Savior they always go home a different way.

                                                                        – from various messages

Stephen D. (Douglas) Herron was born this date (6/19/1917) in West Blockton, Alabama.  His journey took him to Central Wesley College and Bob Jones University, to various pastorates and eventually to the founding of Hobe Sound Bible College, Hobe Sound, FL.

He had a sharp wit, a theological bent, and a good sense of humor.  He was passionate about Christian Education.  He was truly one of the greatest men I ever met.  His administration was marked by a care for his staff.  He made you feel a part of HSBC.

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Tis a blessing to me and my kin

To have food, tall pantry and bin.

Our store is thick, not lean nor thin,

For all this I praise you Lord,

Living, Giving, Loving Lord.

 

It’s good to have clothes and more,

In dresser and behind closet door,

And shoes and boots on scattered floor,

For abundance I thank you Lord,

Great, Gallant and Faithful Lord.

 

Of far more blessings (by miles not feet),

Is the mate you allowed me to meet,

And four little Bryans to make us complete,

Thou who lovest family, Creative Lord,

My thanks for being a Love-making Lord.

 

Most of all I’m so grateful to be,

Redeemed and passed through my own Red Sea,

Through “Jordan” you also have guided me,

Redeeming and Sanctifying Lord, my Lord,

You surely deserve all the praise I afford. – eab, 11/24/99

   

Written at Hobe Sound, Florida 

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The wind delivered a seed,

(Though nature’s not known for speed)

To a notch in the niche of time.

Delivered its parent weed,

Of what is commonly feed,

For the fowls of the southern clime.

 

Its diameter was flat,

As it lit with a “splat,”

On the aqua that was color lime.

But its profile changed – fat,

As it stood and later sat,

On the comfortable, friendly, bottom slime.

 

All the minerals that were due,

Were there with water too,

Standing well above its newly budded head.

And the warmth that filtered through,

From the sun and wind that blew,

Found it lying, living on its bed.

 

It grew straight and tall,

And the roots – it let them fall,

Opposite of the way the stem had led.

It answered maturity’s strong call,

And produced its one small ball,

Before it left the living for the dead.

 

Now that might have been the end,

Of the tale that I rend,

If there had not been an arthropod,

Who came, the stem to bend,

And tether it to a “friend,”

Out there many yards from sod.

 

The spider’s personal trail,

That descended from his tail,

Took hold of each slim sturdy rod;

Made a home that looked quite frail,

But could withstand any gale,

As planned by The Architect – God.

 

The slender, cylinder, tower died

And in its death was satisfied,

Propagating its own peasant herd.

Little knowing, its form complied,

To the arachnids web that tied

It with another, and then a third.

 

Men may likewise thoughtless be,

About what they leave, effecting eternity;

Failing to understand what has occurred.

Having eyes that cannot see,

Often like you, and like me,

Not giving others a place to gird.  -eab, 10/69

 

Written after dove hunting, west of Hobe Sound, Florida

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The Greeks had a god for rain,

And another one for the sun.

And why did they have two?

Because it is plain

Zeus and Helios weren’t big enough to do,

The work of Jehovah, The One.   -eab, 4/1968

 

Written while teaching literature at Hobe Sound Bible College, Florida.

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It really doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all,

I’m in my Father’s care.

He rules this footstool here below,

From His great big, heavenly chair.

He’s in charge of my little life,

My fame and fortune, children and wife,

So it really doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all,

I’m in my Father’s care.  -eab, 12/1969

 

Written on the slab of what is now Carrol Auditorium, Hobe Sound Bible College,Florida

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Today, Tomorrow, To eternity,

In pause-less time and pace.

To get, to gain, to servility,

As the noted rodent race.

 

To gather, to garner, to glean;

As though life were all bread,

And men, as mice, were seen, 

And their hearts as heavy lead.  -eab, 10/67

 

(T.T.T. is borrowed from Piet Heim, Danish, WW II poet.)

 

Written at Hobe Sound Bible College,Florida.

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