Poem

Oh, what of the day, when sin passed away

And glory surrounded the soul

Gone was my night, all was pure light

Christ had made me wholly whole.

His way was best – my soul had soul-rest.

– eab, 1/27/10

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“SELECTED”

Ever see a poem “- Selected”?

Did its author feel neglected?

Good publishers all, of course,

Always show the correct source,

Responsibility reflecting.

 

But if some printer has refused,

Really, why make him feel abused

Yield to his unkind “Edit.”

Allow failure for “credit.”

(Notice above the First Letters used.) J – eab, 11/29/05

Penned in Kingston (eastern) Ontario, Canada.  

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They’re Gathering

There’s a crowd gathering on another shore,

The group’s grower larger every day.

They are gathering in from all directions,

Yet all came there by God’s narrow way.

 

That crowd had skins of different shades,

Spoke languages to each other quite unknown,

But they are connected by one Royal Blood,

For Christ firmly owns them for His own.

 

That crowd landed where they planned to land.

They found their long sought heavenly goal.

They weathered all life’s threatening storms,

Insisting on “saving” (at all cost) their soul.

 

Soon, Friend, you may be gathered with them,

Soon I may join the celestial number,

Where the Son is the light for all the day,

(And where we’ll need no night for slumber.)

 

Let us then be Faithful with a capitol “F,” 

To the Lord who rules that group, that shore,

And gather with the enumerable saints, young and old.

Gather to Christ, and gather to part nevermore.        – eab, 8/25/08  

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Isaac Watts – death, Nov. 25, 1748

“Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed?”  (stanzas 1,3,5)

 

Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

Refrain

At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!

 

Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

 

Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.       (Underlining -eab)

 

Isaac Watts died this day in England, his native land.  He is known for many worshipful hymns and, of course for, “Joy to the World.”  The average reader may be unaware that Watts also wrote, Logick (1725)  Knowledge of the Heavens and Earth (1726)  Philosophical Essays (1733)  The Improvements of the Mind (1741) all used for decades at Cambridge, Oxford, Harvard, and Yale!

 

Watts is said to have rhymed so much as a kid that his dad wanted it stopped to which Isaac replied “O father, do some pity take

                                                And I will no more verses make.”

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Donald W Stump

Let a big drift so softly sift

Its way between the streets.

Let rain come down, all over town,

In blowing, whited sheets.

Let sleet and hail not one time fail

To come when they desired.

Why so adjure the weather?

I’m a postman that’s retired. ^[1]

 

May Dobermans make lanes their runs

And jump on every man.

May German sheps plague the back steps

Of white and blue marked vans.

May Saint Bernards and Great Danes charge

The walker most admired,

Cause I’m no longer out there –

I’m a postman that’s retired.

 

“I didn’t get my first class yet.”

“But I don’t know their zip.”

“Of course, I’m mad, I know it had

A…a stamp.”  Oh loud lip!

“You’re late again; it’s a big sin

This wage at which you’re hired!”

Their gripes I’ll no more endure –

Tell the next man.  I’m retired.

 

Here comes the first, with its date cursed

By mailings once a month.

Here comes junk mail, the annual sale,

Bulk printings by the “tonth.”

And the season with the reason,

To dislike cards inspired.

Ah, it bothers me not;

Not this Christmas, I’ve just retired. -eab 11/24/85  

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A Grandkid’s Thanks

Thank you God for ten fingers, and my running toes,

Thank you for my two big ears and my runny nose.

Thank you for the hair on my head,

And for sentences my eyes have read,

Thanks for the words my tongue just said,

And thank You for my tummy–well fed.

 

Thank you for the good Mother of mine,

Who does my cloths and supper so fine.

Thank You God for my grand ole dad

Though at times he makes me sad,

Spanking (he thinks I’m been bad!)

All other hours he makes me glad.

 

Thank You God for your Holy Bible,

Because by it our family is able,

To read the promises that are very old,

To hear the story of David so bold,

Be warned to be either hot or cold,

And read of parables which are ten-fold.

 

And Lord, I’d really be remiss,

(Image my grandchild saying this.)

If I forgot to thank You for

Gram and Gramp (wish they lived next door).

Thanks for cousins, aunts, uncles and more,

Thanks for blessings, blessings galore.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ! ! !

            -Gramp, Thursday, November 23, 2000.

Written while Associate Professor of Bible, Hobe Sound Bible College, Florida

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Achan

Ole Achan saw, coveted, took;

Became a bad name in the good Book.

Coveting is against God’s law,

Though the sin was not that he saw.

Watch – Do not take that second look.  –eab, 11/20/05

 

Written in eastern Ontario (Frontenac County) while pastoring with the Pilgrims.

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John Yates – birth, Nov 21, 1837

“Faith Is the Victory”   (stanza 1) 

 

Encamped along the hills of light,
Ye Christian soldiers, rise.
And press the battle ere the night
Shall veil the glowing skies.
Against the foe in vales below
Let all our strength be hurled.
Faith is the victory, we know,
That overcomes the world.

 

John Henry Yates was born this date in Batavia, NY.  Yates was a shoe salesman and later a hardware store manager.  Eventually he became a Baptist minister who was influenced by Ira D. Sankey.  Yates also penned “The Harbor Bell” “The Model Church” and “The Old Book Stands.”

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Fanny Crosby – converted to Christ, Nov 20, 1850

“Praise Him! Praise Him!”   (stanza 2)

Praise Him! Praise Him! Jesus, our blessèd Redeemer!
For our sins He suffered, and bled, and died.
He our Rock, our hope of eternal salvation,
Hail Him! hail Him! Jesus the Crucified.
Sound His praises! Jesus who bore our sorrows,
Love unbounded, wonderful, deep and strong.

Francis Jane Crosby wrote thousands of hymns in her later life.  She is credited with 8000.  She did not write her first one until she was 45 years of age.  This means within 50 years she wrote 8000 hymns (an average of 160 a year or about three a week.  What a writer!   

Fanny was religious as a youth but was soundly converted to Jesus at a Methodist revival at age thirty.  She said of this day,  “The Lord planted a star in my life and no cloud has ever obscured the light.”

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Temple Talk

He went into the temple

Where you’d think one could look up.

But his attitude was humble,

He saw “dregs” in his cup.

 

He asked God for mercy;

He beat upon his chest,

Called himself a sinner

(Not better than the rest).

 

He cast his eyes downward,

They sought the lowly ground.

But God, who measures all things:

The simple, the profound,

 

Liked his honest spirit,

Heard his call and cry,

Knew he meant his temple-talk,

Knew it more than “humble pie,”

 

And justified his soul;

He went back to his own place,

With a calm in his heart,

And heaven’s smile upon his face.

 

Friend, the next time you go to meeting,

The next time you’re in church

Avoid petty piousness,

Avoid the highest perch.

 

Look at God, worship Him,

And see yourself contrasted,

As this man of old did. 

His grace has ever lasted.            – eab, 5/2000

 

Written while Associate Professor Bible at Hobe Sound Bible College, Florida

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