P.o.t.W.

Poem by Sarah.

Photo via Pinterest.

P.o.t.W.

It's been a while since we've posted a Poem of the Week...

Where is God's Power?

Samuel Stevenson

A city full of churches

Great preacher, lettered men,

Grand music, choirs and organs;

If all these fail, what then?

Good workers, eager, earnest,

Who labour hour by hour:

But where, oh where, my brother,

Is God's Almighty power?

It is the Holy Spirit,

That quickeneth the soul.

God will not take man-worship,

Nor bow to man's control.

No human innovation,

No skill, or worldly art,

Can give a true repentance,

Or break the sinner's heart.

Great God, revive us truly!

And keep us every day;

That men may all acknowledge,

We live just as we pray.

The Lord's hand is not shortened,

He still delights to bless,

If we depart from evil

And all our sins confess.

P.o.t.W.

Pinterest

Overheard in an Orchard

Elizabeth Cheney

Said the Robin to the Sparrow,

"I should really like to know

Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so."

Said the Sparrow to the Robin,

"Friend, I think that it must be

That they have no heavenly Father

Such as cares for you and me."

But he does care for us!

"Look at the birds of the sky: They don't sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you worth more than they?"

Matthew 6:26, HCSB

Do not worry.

"Don't worry about your life... Isn't life more than food and the body more than clothing?"
Matthew 6:25, HCSB

P.o.t.W.

Google

Face to Face

Carrie Breck

Face to face with Christ my Savior,

Face to face -- what will it be --

When with rapture I behold Him,

Jesus Christ who died for me?

Only faintly now I see Him,

With the darkling veil between;

But a blessed day is coming

When His glory shall be seen.

Face to face! O blissful moment!

Face to face -- to see and know;

Face to face with my Redeemer,

Jesus Christ who loves me so.

P.o.t.W. [A Psalm of Life]

Pinterest

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act -- act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

P.o.t.W.

The Touch of the Master's Hand

Myra Brooks Welch, quoted in The Tale of the Tardy Oxcart by Charles R. Swindoll

Google

'Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But he held it up with a smile:

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

"Who'll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar, then Two! Only two?

Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

Three dollars once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three--" but no,

From the room, far back, a gray-haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening up the loose strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,

And going, and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not understand

What changed its worth." Swift came the reply:

"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,

Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;

A game -- and he travels on.

He is "going once," and "going" twice,

He's "going" and almost "gone."

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought

By the touch of the Master's hand.

P.o.t.W.

Ship Across the Sky

Louis L'Amour

White wings across the morning,

Dark sails against the moon,

Scudding along in the spindrift

While the trade-winds croon;

Dark hull against the blue,

White spars across the sky --

Like a song from out of the distance

And clear as the seagull's cry;

Hull down against the horizon

And royals across the gray,

I saw it fade into the distance

Sailing my dreams away.

P.o.t.W.

Pinterest

A commonplace life, we say and we sigh,

But why do we sigh as we say?

The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky

Makes up the commonplace day.

The moon and the stars are commonplace things,

And the flower that blooms and the bird that sings;

But dark were the world and sad our lot,

If the flowers failed and the sun shown not.

And God who studies each separate soul

Out of commonplace lives makes His beautiful whole.”

F.W. Boreham, The Poppies in the Corn

P.o.t.W.

Photo credit to Pinterest, poem by Sarah (aka Sarah Sackett - pen name)

P.o.t.W.

Pinterest

I saw tomorrow marching

On little children's feet;

Within their forms and faces read

Her prophecy complete.

I saw tomorrow look at me

From little children's eyes;

And thought how carefully we'd teach

If we were really wise.

Unknown

P.o.t.W.

DeviantART

No Longer a Flame

Prayer of the Lukewarm Christian

written by Sarah

In days gone by, I was a light;

On fire for God, His image and delight.

A burning flame without a care,

Sent to spread His love everywhere.

But as days went on, trial to trial,

My flame slowly faded, no longer a fire.

I wonder, what do people see?

When they look through the window at me?

Is it a true Follower, who would give their all?

Or the shell of a mask, like a beautiful doll?

Through the motions I went every day,

On the outside, the perfect Christian in every way.

Thoughts would come, which I dismiss.

Then a passage I heard, said this: 

      "Neither hot nor cold, are you,

But wretched, poor, and blind is true.

Buy from Me the purest gold,

Dress in the white garments I hold.

Open your eyes to the poison-deceit;

Fall on your knees, fall at My feet.

For I stand and knock at your door;

Pay attention! Listen! I shall settle the score.

If you will hear and answer My call,

A crown you shall wear, riches and all!

With the right to My throne, a victor you'll be,

Just as I Am also, having won the Great Victory."

As I pondered these words,

New hope sprang forth as a bird

And soared so high, I could feel the wind

Like a breath of love from Heaven's skin.

I see now, O King, the mask I've lived:

To myself, for myself - alone - I've give'd.

Accept my apology, I repent.

From now on, O Lord, I'm all in!

Light my candle, once again;

Mold me, use me more - amen!

Forgive me, Lord, I take the blame;

Ignite a fire, feed my flame!

----------------------------------------

Click here to read the story behind this poem at Sarah's blog.

P.o.t.W

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In the Bleak Midwinter

Christina Rossetti

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind did moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Heaven cannot hold Him, nor the earth sustain;

Heav'n and earth shall flee away, when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter, a stable place sufficed;

Lord, our God incarnate, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshiped the Beloved with a holy kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man, I would do my part;

Yet what can I give Him, I give to Him my heart.

P.o.t.W.

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1863

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along th' unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:

'There is no peace on earth, ' I said

'For hate is strong, and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till, ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Riddle of the Week

I have written another poem! In fact, I actually wrote a riddle!  I love riddles... See if you can guess the answer.  Most of you, I'm sure will get it right off.  Maybe I made it too easy... Ah, well, it was fun!

Enjoy!

Who Am I?

I am from the beginning;

Formed before creation, before the world's birth.

Present when my Lord established the heavens,

And laid the foundations of the earth.

I am my Lord's delight, to His people I serve.

Through me reign judges and kings.

When they heed my instruction,

O how my heart gladly sings!

I am mother to all who accept me,

Yet I have no body, no form.

Those who follow me are happy,

In their plight, my strength keeps them warm.

I am worth more than silver,

Yea, my fruit more than solid gold.

Far better than jewels, am I;

I house wondrous treasuries untold.

My home is full of riches and honor;

To my children's inheritance, I give wealth.

He who listens to what I say

Gains knowledge, understanding, and health.

I stand at every door, call out at every gate;

Though many dismiss me, I will be heard.

If they would only lend ear and listen,

With whole heart and mind, to my every word.

Don't ignore my instruction,

For it could very well be your death.

But those who find me, find life

And a purpose with every breath.

Those who search long for me will find me,

No one can deny.

My ways can hurt and heal,

Can you guess,

who am I?

Maybe next time I'll host a prize for the winner... But I think this one is too easy.  My family knew it right away... 

Can you tell me where the "info" is found?

Please leave a comment of your answer! 

Have a great week!

Blessings,

Sarah

P.o.t.W.

Changing Seasons

Katherine Knight

Summer days are here at last,

Days of school are in the past,

Summer skies will turn to grey,

And summer's warmth will fade away,

Autumn comes and leaves fall down.

Winter comes, snow covers the ground,

Spring comes and brings new life,

And ends all of the winter's strife.

All seasons come and go,

From summer's heat to winter's snow.

_________________________________

Coming soon:

A long-delayed post of the Fort Loudoun Trade Fair.

My (Sari's) Trip to AZ

Song of the Week

Featured Book

Blessings!

Sarah

P.o.t.W

Laughter Came From Every Brick

Teresa of Avila

Just these two words He spoke

      changed my life,

      "Enjoy Me."

What a burden I thought I was to carry -

      a crucifix, as did He.

Love once said to me, "I know a song,

      Would you like to hear it?"

And laughter came from every brick in the street

      and from every pore

      in the sky,

After a night of prayer, He

      changed my life when

                                   He sang,

                                        "Enjoy Me."

P.o.t.W.

O, For the Love of Cheesecake

written by Elisera

I can hear it calling me

From a fridge far, far away.

That sweet, delectable goodness!

I could shout, "Hooray, hooray!"

For already I can taste the yummy graham

Beneath that cream cheesy fluff,

And loudly my heart sings out

Anxiously awaiting the stuff!

I could dance, I could fly

After first look at such a treat;

Creamy filling so light and fluffy,

Topped with strawberries sweet.

Should you ever find a certain lonely pie,

Do save a piece for my sake!

I'd be yours forever...

O, for the love of cheesecake!

(Photo credit to Google Images)

P.o.t.W

A Girl Worth Waiting For

                 written by Elisera

Lord God, my King,

      I humbly pray

For a heart as Yours

      To guide me each day.

For Your tender compassion,

      Mercy and love,

To be a blessing

      And Light from above.

I ask also, dear Friend,

      For a sweet and gentle spirit;

You alone, my Saviour,

      Can, undoubtedly, give it.

Create in me a servant's heart,

      Every day, forevermore,

And help me be

      A girl worth waiting for.

(image credit to linzarcher.deviantart.com)

P.o.t.W

A Song From the Suds

Louisa May Alcott

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,

While the white foam rises high,

And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,

And fasten the clothes to dry;

Then out in the free fresh air they swing

Under the sunny sky.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls

The stains of the week away,

And let water and air by their magic make

Ourselves as pure as they;

Then on the earth there would be indeed

A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life

Will heart's-ease ever bloom;

The busy mind has no time to think

Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;

And anxious thoughts may be swept away

As we busily wield a broom.

I am glad a task to me is given

To labor at day by day;

For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,

And I cheerfully learn to say - 

"Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;

But hand, you shall work always!"

(photo credit to Google Images)

P & V.o.t.D.

Acts 3:19

"Therefore repent and turn back, so that your sins may be wiped out, that seasons of refreshing may come from the presence of the LORD."

(HCSB, emphasis added)

If all the skies were sunshine

Our faces would be fain

To feel once more upon them

The cooling splash of rain.

Henry Van Dyke

(Photo by Elisera)