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Posts Tagged ‘the first’

It was evening on Golgotha,

For the second time that day. [1]  

They had taken down a Form,

Grave-wrap’d and carried it away

Rome, its mission over,

Clattered off with cadent pride.

It was dark in old Jerusalem. 

The Prince of Peace had died.

v 2

It was silent in the chamber

Where eleven men had fled

He had promised so much victory,

Oh, the glor’ous things He’d said.

But they’d heard the thud of hammers,

Seen the life-blood flow.

They thought their senses told them,

All they’d need to know.

v3

Now the Spirit says expressly

That a drifting trend will come.

Oh, the world be too much with us,

Seems to us too much like home

But the Father, He is with us;

Helps us meet our goal

There’s vict’ry for the sinner,

There’s filling, un- fill’d soul.

v4     

O, remember saint, Christ loves you,

Always has, and always will.

And the morning soon will open,

Fill’d with joyous, raptured thrill!

All four kingdoms of the world,

Will bow before our King.

Millions, past and present will,

Join voices as we sing.

Chorus

Christ was triumphant over sin. Is now triumphant.

And He’ll always Conquer’r be.

He is triumphant.  He is triumphant.

He has brought man victory. [2]

          – 9/29/2000

 

 


[1] In some ways the hardest line of any poem is the first. This idea came as a new thought – two evenings in one day.

[2] Written in my associate professor office during the week and sung in the night service 10/1/2000.  (Pastor Pierpoint thought someone he’d known years ago had written it.)

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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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