Kids Scream

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Kids scream for a multitude of reasons,

In summer, winter, fall, and other seasons.

They scream because they’re joyous,

And they scream because they’re not.

They scream when they are cold and wet,

And when they’re wet and hot.

They vibrate their vocal cords

When by themselves, or in huge hordes,

And scream because they’re slightly “mad”

Or when chased by their playful dad.

But whatever the reason, or season,

Kids will go on screaming.

Giving the world of ours

A little more depth of meaning.

 – eab, 6/73

 

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^[1] We had an enjoyable summer in our little cottage on Goodbread Street, Nevada, Ohio. Little lot had pear tree, apple tree, three kinds of berries.

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God Gave

God gave the heavens of starry suns,

And the bright meteor’s streaks.

He gave the moon, now tramped by man,

(Not green, point-headed freaks).

He gave the sun, a central source

Of life, food, and living’s heat.

And made the “day star,” in His great plan,

The ultimate source of meat.  – eab, 12/74

 

Written in Nevada, Ohio 

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There’s Proof

There’s the beauty of rain,

As it sheets across the way.

The beauty of snow,

As it blurs a winter day.

And the beauty of hail,

As it balls – bouncing, on the roof

There’s beauty, There’s God, There’s proof!  -eab, 11/73

Written in Nevada, OH as we lived on Goodbread Street

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Wyandot Christian School Memories

In August of nineteen seventy-two,

A new school started for you, and you.

In northern Ohio (fairest of states),

With textbooks, paper, and pencils, brand new,

(Erasers soon showed a trillion mistakes.)

 

That building remade with paint and a brush,

At eight-thirty (What?) stilled to a meek hush.

Green, young students (the intelligent sort),

Closed the gap from May with such a mad rush,

They couldn’t receive an interim report.

 

Grammar, and algebra, history, and shop,

Quizzes and tests, there was no place to stop;

Bible and other classes taught the rule,

To study, to read, to not be a flop,

Attending Wyandot Christian School.

 

Then came the fall outing (Remember that?)

A basketball game, the slim ‘gainst the fat.

Hot dogs were served (Yours were cold did you say?)

Three deep made some run; while others fell flat.

Cider, coco, and donuts (?) closed the day.

 

Tonight we are met in this banquet hall,

Behind lies the past, behind the quick fall,

Ahead lies the birthday of our Great Lord;

Vacation time, snow time, gift time, and all,

May you be blest with all heaven’s accord.

 

May you be – Oh, I forget to mention,

Miss Knaul, in the hall and noon‘s detention,

A trio girl who visits the jury,

Jogging, Perkins, a raccoon’s dissection.

Good-bye.  We’ll see you in seventy three.  – eab, 12/72

Penned while Principal of Wyandot and living at 205 Goodbread Street in Nevada, OH.

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Devotions – Family Style

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

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[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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They Came

They came.

They came on camels – (probably),

Lumbering hoofed ships,

On a shifting, sandy sea (wind, lea).

 

They gave.

Three tokens at least (myrrh, “gum,” gold),

Presents for the King,

In royal David’s household (foretold).

 

They left.

A different way. (Don’t all men?)

Time’s most Focal Point,

Confronts, converts, men from sin (Within).

 

But wait!

Were their gifts alive? (flesh, blood, soul?)

To hearken is best;

Obedience gains the goal (Not dole).

 

Dear Lord,

Accept these our gifts (howe’er fine)

Earth’s joys signed below.

Make them God forever Thine (Not mine).

 

E. Andrew 9, Lincoln S. 6, Laura C. 3,

Heather Colwell born Nov. 6th, wt 9# 1/2 oz

            In loving gratitude, Unselfish Lord

            Use our sons and daughters to spread Thy Word. – eab, 12/73

 

Written while principal of Wyandot Christian School and living at 205 Goodbread Street, Nevada, OH. 

 

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His Name Is

Star, Scepter, Potentate, Jesus Christ,

Truth, True Vine, Wonderful, Governor,

Author and Finisher, First and Last,

Root ‘ Offspring, Prince of Peace, Counselor,

 

Lamb of God, Good Shepherd of the sheep,

Author of eternal salvation,

Morning Star, Light of world, God’s Image,

Bread of life, Beginning ‘ Creation,

 

Blessed Branch, Great High Priest, Lord of lords,

Redeemer, Preserver, Omega,

Advocate, Law Giver, King of kings,

Nazarene, Son of man, Messiah,

 

Corner-stone, Beloved, Might One,

Holy Child, Begotten, David’s Son.       – eab, 12/72

Bryan’s Card written at Nevada, Ohio

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Away

Creatures of time for a moment,

Creatures of eternity for aye,

Living once and so briefly,

Then passing forever away.

 

But away to what? Is the question,

To freeze the very soul;

Away to the place where one had

Planned to make his final goal?

 

Or away to the unexpected? 

Away to the undesired?

Where the sky is never blessed

With a morning sun, newly fired.

 

Away to the region of sorrows and griefs,

Here-to-fore unknown,

Away to reap the abundant harvest

Of “wild oats” carelessly sown.

 

Away to a place without babies,

To divert from the problem at hand.

Away to a scene, worse by far,

Than Alamo, or Custer’s Last Stand.

 

Away to separation – Separation  

– How sad that word, how sad!

Separation from a praying Mother,

Separation from a faithful Dad.

 

O God, may I die as the righteous,

Peaceful, Calm, Prepared.

And come to the brink of the river,

Knowing I have not spared.   -eab, 11/1973

 

Written in Nevada, Ohio

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S. M. A.

Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego

To the furnace were sent.

And Daniel to the den,

They hoped that he’d be rent.

They put ole John on the Patmos Isle,

To suffer in that place.

But God saved them all;

He still can YOU,

By His wondrous grace. – eab, 7/73

 

Written in Nevada, Ohio          

 

 

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