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Sometimes


Sometimes
By: Unknown Author

Sometimes when
The land is dry
No water
To be found
A pouring rain
Falls from the sky
And drenches
Thirsty ground

Sometimes when
My heart is dry
No joy there
To be found
You send from heaven
A drenching rain
And your perfect
Love abounds

Sometimes when
A potter's hands
Find fault with
Molded clay
He gently bends
And shapes until
It's perfect in
Every way

Sometimes when
The Potter's hands
Find bitterness in
My heart
He gently moves me
To forgive
And heals the
Wounded part

Sometimes when
A tiny child
Bears alone a
Heavy load
A caring friend
Will take his hand
And help him
Down the road

Sometimes when
This tiny child
Strains under
This life's load
Jesus comes and
Picks me up and
Carries me
Down the road







Poetry On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All Rights Reserved

The Race - I Love This Poem!

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The Race

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”

But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.

As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”

So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”

So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.

Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.

But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

Author Unknown

Buy The Truth: Running The Race Of The Christian Life

Poetry On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries. This Includes Personal Evangelism And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All Rights Reserved

But Only in my Picture Book! - By: Peter Roberts

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But Only in my Picture Book!
By: Peter Roberts

On rainy days I like to look
At animals in my picture book:
And, to my great delight, I see
The creatures looking back at me.

I see a zebra in the zoo,
An elephant and kangaroo;
A leopard, leaping in a tree,
And, eating fruit, a chimpanzee

I touch a tiger's pouncing paws,
A crocodile with open jaws;
And, in a big-top circus cage,
A roaring lion in a rage.

The dolphin in the pool is bright
The polar bear is cold and white;
A baby seal in sunshine lies,
And, in the sea, a penguin cries.

I'm pleased to see on every page,
Wild anaimals of every age,
But sad to think, that some I see,
Will not survive the future free.

And some, like blue-sea whales, will die
To be, like memories gone by:
For them, tomorrow's men will look,
But only in my picture book!


http://www.audlembaptistchurch.org.uk/

Poetry On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All Rights Reserved

Set Apart




Set Apart.

Frances Ridley Havergal


‘Know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for Himself.’ Psalm 4:3

SET apart for Jesus!
Is not this enough,
Though the desert prospect
Open wild and rough?
Set apart for His delight,
Chosen for His holy pleasure,
Sealed to be His special treasure!
Could we choose a nobler joy?—and would we if we might?


Set apart to serve Him!
Ministers of light,
Standing in His presence,
Ready day or night!
Chosen for the service blest,
He would have us always willing,
Like the angel host fulfilling
Swiftly and rejoicingly each recognized behest.


Set apart to praise Him,
Set apart for this!
Have the blessed angels
Any truer bliss?
Soft the prelude, though so clear:
Isolated tones are trembling;
But the chosen choir, assembling,
Soon shall sing together, while the universe shall hear.


Set apart to love Him,
And His love to know!
Not to waste affection
On a passing show.
Called to give Him life and heart,
Called to pour the hidden treasure,
That none other claims to measure,
Into His beloved hand! thrice blessed ‘set apart!’


Set apart for ever
For Himself alone!
Now we see our calling,
Gloriously shown.
Owning, with no secret dread,
This our holy separation,
Now the crown of consecration
Of the Lord our God shall rest upon our willing head!

1Numbers 6:7.

Will You Find Us Watching?


Will You Find Us Watching?

By: Susan Y Nikitenko
April 2, 2011

You have continually shown your love and grace;
You are a wonderful Father in heaven.
Man can not perceive your compassion, your love;
Nor your great forgiveness given unto men.

So small are we and so small our gratefulness.
So small our thoughts and small our memory.
Will we seek to know you more, to hold you dear;
To love your Word and joyfully worship thee?

Do the trees reach high into the sky in praise?
Is the whippoorwill aware of how much you care?
Does nature itself cry out to You above?
Clapping leaves , sounding rains, music in the air

If you stood before us in the clouds today;
If your trumpet proclaimed this moment-come home:
Would our hearts be ready? Would our arms reach high?
Would we be living for you when we hear that cry?

Will you find us watching? Will you find us praying?
Will you find us sinning? Will you find us straying?
When the trumpet will blast and you've come at last;
When the heavens proclaim your beautiful name;

When the bright light of grace descends from the clouds;
In your white raiment of marriage come calling.
Will we be ready to take, your wonderful hand ;
And ready to live out ,the plans you have planned?

Oh, Jesus- May your children be found watching;
And ready, trusting in your shed blood alone.
Trusting in the redemption you have rendered;
By grace, At the seat of your heavenly thrown.


1John 2:28 ¶ And now, little children, abide in him; that, when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming.

All My Poems Are Free For Christian Bible Centered Ministries. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. All Rights Reserved

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