OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRITOF MORTAL BE PROUD?(Lincoln's favorite poem.)Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of tbe wave,
Man passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.
The infant a mother attended and loved
The mother that infant's affection who proved;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all are away to their dwellings of rest.
The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure -- her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her, and praised,
are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne;
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn;
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave?
The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep;
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
Vile sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the muItitude goes, like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same that our fathers have been;
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen --
We drink the same stream and we view the same sun,
And we run the same course that our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink,
To the life we are clinging they also would cling;
But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.
They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;They scorned,
but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
They died, aye; they died; and we things that are now,
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow
Who make in their dwellings a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye,'tis the draught of a breath
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
-~WILLIAM KNOX
12 comments:
THE THREE BIDDERS
Will you listen, kind friends, for a moment,
While a story to you I unfold;
A marvelous tale, of a wonderful sale,
Of a noble lady of old;
How hand and heart, at an auction mart,
Soul and body she sold.
'Twas on the broad "king's highway."
Near a century ago,
That a preacher stood, whose heart overflowed,
Telling the fallen and low
Of a saviour's love and a home above,
And a peace that they all might know.
All crowded 'round to listen;
And they wept at the wondrous love
That could wash their sin, and receive them in
His spotless mansion above;
While slow through the crowd, a lady proud,
In her gilded chariot drove.
"Make room," cried the haughty outrider,
"You are closing the king's highway;
My lady is late, and their Majesties wait;
Give way there, good people, I pray."
The preacher heard, and his soul was stirred,
And he cried to the rider, "Nay!"
His eye like the lightening flashes;
His voice like a trumpet rings --
"Your grand fete-days
And your fashions and ways
Are all but perishing things.
'Tis the king's highway, but I hold it today
In the name of the King of kings."
Then -- bending his gaze on the lady,
And marking her soft eye fall --
"And now, in His name, a sale I proclaim,
And bids for this fair lady call.
Who will purchase the whole --
Her body and soul.
Coronet, jewels and all?
"I see already three bidders --"
The world steps up as the first;
"I will give her my treasures
And all the pleasures
For which my votaries thirst;
She shall dance each day, more joyous and gay,
With a quiet grave at the worst."
But out speaks the Devil boldly --
"The kingdoms of earth are mine.
Fair lady, thy name, with an envied fame,
On their brightest tablets shall shine;
Only give me thy soul, and I'll give the the whole.
Their glory and wealth to be thine."
"And pray, what hast Thou to offer --
Thou Man of Sorrows, unknown ?"
And He gently said, "My blood I have shed,
To purchace her for Mine own.
To conquer the grave, and her soul to save,
I bore the judgement alone.
"I will give her my cross of suffering,
My cup of sorrow to share;
But with endless love, in My home above,
All shall be righted there;
She shall walk in light, in a robe of white,
And a radiant crown shall wear."
"Thou hast heard the terms, fair lady,
That each hath offered thee.
Which wilt thou choose, and which wilt thou lose,
This life, or the life to be?
The fable was mine, but the choice is yet thine,
Fair lady! Which of the three?"
Nearer the stand of the preacher
The gilded chariot stole,
And each head was bowed, as over the crowd
The thundering accents roll;
And every word, as the lady heard,
Burned in her very soul.
"Pardon , good people," she whispered,
As she rose from her cushioned seat.
Full well, they say, as the crowd made way,
You could hear her pulses beat;
And each head was bare, as the lady fair
Knelt at the preacher's feet.
She took from her hands the jewels,
The coronet from her brow.
"Lord Jesus," she said, as she bowed her head,
"The highest bidder art Thou.
Thou gav'st for my sake Thy life, and I take
Thy offer -- and take it now.
"I know the world and its pleasures,
At best they weary and cloy;
And the Tempter is bold, but his honors and gold
Prove ever a fatal decoy.
I long for thy rest--- Thy bid is the best;
Lord I accept it with joy.
"Give me Thy cup of suffering,
Welcome earth's sorrow and loss,
Let my portion be to thank and praise Thee
For taking my place on the cross.
I Gladly lay down this coveted crown,
And count the World's glory but dross."
"Amen!" said the earnest preacher;
And the people wept aloud.
Years have rolled on -- and they all have gone
Who formed that awe-struck crowd.
Lady and throng have been swept along
On the wind like a morning cloud.
But the Saviour has claimed His purchase,
And around His radiant seat,
A mightier throng, in an endless song,
The wonderous story repeat.
And a form more fair is bending there,
Laying her crown at His feet.
******************************************************************
Dear Friend :
These bidders three, still bid for thee,
Their terms remain the same.
Which wilt thou choose, and which wilt thou lose,
This life or the life to be?
Author Unknown
**********************************************************************
--
There is a time, we know not when,
A point, we know not where,
That marks the destiny of men.
To glory or despair.
There is a line, by us unseen,
That crosses every path;
The hidden boundary between
God's patience and His wrath.
How far may we go on in sin?
How long will God forbear?
Where does hope end? and where begin
The confines of despair?
To the tune of ALAXANDER. C.M.
Wm B. Bradbury
EQUIPMENT
by Edgar A. Guest
Figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You've all that the greatest of men have had,
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes
And a brain to use if you would be wise.
With this equipment they all began,
So start for the top and say, "I can."
Look them over, the wise and great
They take their food from a common plate,
And similar knives and forks they use,
With similar laces they tie their shoes.
The world considers them brave and smart,
But you've all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill,
You can be great if you only will.
You're well equipped for what fight you choose,
You have legs and arms and a brain to use,
And the man who has risen great deeds to do
Began his life with no more than you.
You are the handicap you must face,
You are the one who must choose your place,
You must say where you want to go,
How much you will study the truth to know.
God has equipped you for life, but He
Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within,
The man must furnish the will to win.
So figure it out for yourself, my lad.
You were born with all that the great have had,
With your equipment they all began,
Get hold of yourself and say: "I can."
Very Old Recital - "Little Will"
A great crowd of people had gathered around
A small ragged urchin stretched out on the ground
In the midst of the street; and some cried "for shame!"
And others, "Can anyone tell us his name?"
For that poor little body, now bleeding and still,
Was all that was left of once bright little Will.
A great heavy cart had come rattling that way
Where Willi and others were busy at play,
And the poor little fellow, now stretched out on the stones,
Seemed only a mass of bruised flesh and crushed bones.
But still there was life; and a kind doctor said:
"We must take the child home and put him to bed,
He must have all the care we can possibly give,
And it may be the poor felllow will live."
But alas for poor Willie, he had no nice home;
He lived in an alley, in one little room;
And his poor mother, working from earliest light,
Had often no supper to give him at night.
But joy for poor Willie! for not far away
From the place where all bleeding and shatered he lay
Is a very large house standing back from the street,
With everything round it so quiet and neat
Which many good people had built in His Name
Who healed all the sick when from heaven He came;
And who promises blessings that ever endure
To those who shall comfort the sick and the poor.
So there in a room all cheerful and bright,
Little Willie was laid on a pillow so white.
The walls with bright pictures were covered all o'er;
Will never had seen such a clean place before.
Long rows of small beds with small tables between,
The coverlid white and the beds painted green;
And so many children, all sick, but so bright,
Will almost forgot his great pain at the sight.
But the poor little boy suffered terrible pain
When the good surgeon came to examine again
Those poor little limbs; an he said that next day
He must bring his sharp knives and cut both legs away.
Oh, how could he bear it? Oh what should he do?
So small and alone he could never get through.
And then he knew well that he never could run
And play with the boys as before he had done.
Poor Willie! he felt that in all that great city
There was no one to help him and no one to pity.
It was night; In the hospital ward all was still,
Save the low moans of anguish from poor little Will.
When a dear little girl in the very next bed
Turned round on her pillow and lovingly said,
"Little boy, what's the matter; are you very ill?"
"Oh yes", said por Willie; "What is worse still,
The doctor is going to hurt my legs so
Tomorrow, I never can bear it I know."
"But Jesus will help you", said dear little Sue;
"He suffered and died, you know , Willie , for you."
The child was astonished, and thus made reply;
"Why Susie who's Jesus and what made Him die?"
"Oh Willie! how sad; I thought everyone knew.
You dont go to Sunday school; isn't that true?"
"No I never have been", the boy made reply;
"But tell me of Jesus, and what made Him die?"
"Well, Jesus", said Susie, "came down long ago,
Because He was sorry we all suffered so,
And would be so naughty. And He was a child,
Just as little as we, but so gentel and mild.
And when He grew up, He went all through the land
And healed all the sick with the touch of His hand;
And He took little children right up on His knee-
Oh, Willie I wish it had been you and me.
But soon cruel men caught Jesus one day,
And beat Him and mocked Him and took Him away,
And nailed Him with nails to a great cross of wood.
Oh wasen't it hard, when he'd done them such good?
How He must have loved us, to die on that tree."
"But", said Will, "if He's dead, how can he help me?"
"Why, I'll tell you", said Susie;"though now He's in heaven,
In the book He has left us a promise is given,
That whene're we want , He'll come to our aid.
I'm so sure He loves me, I'm never afraid.
I know that He comes to this hospital here;
And though folks can't see Him, they feel He is near.
I know for I've tried it again and again,
He helps us bear sickness and sorrow and pain."
"Oh how good!" said the boy, with a long thankful sigh,
"But I;m so small, that He might pass me by;
So I'll put up my hand, just so He can see,
Then He'll know that I want Him, and come right to me;"
When the bright sun peeped in that little white bed,
The hand was still raised but dear Willie was dead!
The sad look of pain had gone from his face,
And the sweetest of smiles had taken it's place;
For far off in heaven, that beautiful land,
Kind Jesus had seen little Will's lifted hand;
The smile on his face Jesus' kisses had given
And he waked in the morning with Jesus in Heaven.
Dear friends who have read this sweet story, you see
That trusting in Jesus will save you and me.
Oh that all who of Jesus' great mercy have heard,
would, like dear little Willie, take Him at his word.
Author Unknown
My Country Tis of Thee - (changed)
My country tis tv
sweet land of sit an see
of thee I watch
Land where the villan dies
shot right between the eyes
by quick and fast drawing guys
let- six guns roar.
The Idol in your home
You have an idol in your home
With one great glaring eye?
He occupies the foremost place
And I will tell you why.
We sacrifice to him our time
Because he'll entertain,
And to our bulging eyes display
All life's sorry train -
Vice and crime and viciousness,
Horror, shame and sin -
(We've wasted many precious hours
Since we have let him in.)
But now he dominates our home.
For God we have no time.
Our eyes are dimmed by "Gunsmoke".
Our minds are filled with crime.
"I bring into your living room
Bartender, harlot, thief,
And from the sick commercials
I give you no relief.
"I brainwash children and prepare
Their minds by what they hear;
I make attractive violence,
Sin, cigarettes and beer.
"You speak of young delinquents
And deplore their vicious deeds?
But I continue merrily
To sow the vicious seeds.
"The cheating wife or husband
Is the accepted thing.
We're living in a 'modern' world.
Go to it! Have your fling!
"Away with outworn 'standards'?
Our day is modernized;
Such things as right and wrong!
For sin is glamorized.
"I set the world's criteria,
I am the household god.
(If you protest against me
You're a puritanic clod!)
"I'M the one that rules your home,
From God I turn your heart,
I fill your mind with banal trash
By foul, hypnotic art."
Once family altars occupied
The place where now we see
The glaring eye of Cyclops.
Only NOW he's called "T.V."
~Taken from the "The Gospel Standard", September, 1992
Christmas Poem
Yes Christmas is coming, the world will be merry,
With turkey, plum pudding; with port wine and sherry.
Sad hearts will be gladdened wherever you go,
With greetings and presents - with Yule logs aglow;
And houses all trimmed with the evergreen fir;
As Christmas you see, comes but once in a year.
What means this great feast-time the sad world is keeping?
Explain all the mirth that shall banish the weeping:
"The birthday of Jesus," perhaps you will say,
("No room in the inn, so they laid Him on hay")
When God the Eternal incarnate became,
To ransom a people from bondage and shame;
Bright angels in glory attended the birth
Of Him who created the Heavens and Earth.
Though Scripture is silent regarding December,
Some heart searching facts it would have us remember;
We stripped Him and flogged Him - we crowned Him with thorn,
Dividing between us the clothes He had worn:
With hammer and nails (how sad to repeat)
We fastened His hands - yes and also His feet,
Securely there to a terrible tree,
And raised Him aloft for humanity's glee.
"He's finished" we scoffed, as we sealed up the tomb;
Unwittingly then we were sealing our doom:
That God has forgotten, let none of us think,
While lauding the Babe as we banquet and drink:
No, surely consider, the grave and the stone
Were powerless to hold Him - He's now on the throne
And coming in judgment; - Oh how shall we stand,
Explaining the wounds in His feet or His hands?
For God has declared every knee shall be bowed
Unto Him who was mocked by the onlooking crowd.
Forgiveness is offered - just let me begin -
Salvation to all who acknowledge their sin;
But sinners alone - (no other may claim)
And only the ones who believe on His Name.
No Bethlehem stable completed His mission;
For the shedding of blood must accomplish remission.
The substitute victim God's counsel supplied.
So Jesus the sinless one willingly died.
A.E.H.
See Rev 1:1
22: 18,19
When all the great plants of our cities
Have turned out their last finished work;
When our merchants have made their last bargain
And dismissed the last tired clerk.
When our banks have raked in the last dollar
And have paid out the last dividend;
When the Judge of the earth says, "Close for the night,"
And asks for a balance - What then?
When the choir has sung its last anthem,
And the preacher has said his last prayer,
When the people have heard their last sermon
And the sound has died out on the air;
When the Bible lies closed on the pulpit,
And the pews are all empty of men,
When each one stands facing his record -
And the great book is opened - What then?
When the actors have played their last drama
And the mimic has made his last Pun;
When the movies have flashed the last picture,
And the billboard displayed its last run.
When the crowds seeking pleasure have vanished
And have gone into darkness again -
And the world that rejected its Saviour,
Is asked for a reason - What then?
When the bugle’s last call sinks in silence,
And the long marching columns stand still;
When the captain has given his last orders,
And they’ve captured the last fort and hill,
When the flag has been hauled from the masthead,
And the wounded afield have checked in,
When the trumpet of ages is sounded -
And we stand up before Him - What then?
When your life friend has run to a finish,
And the last you can do is then done;
When your work here on earth is all ended,
And eternity’s issues begun.
As you think of how long God has pleaded,
Of how Christ bore your sins on the tree;
And your soul stands there naked before Him,
And the Father denies you - What then?
Author unknown wmknapp55@gmail.com
Did you give him a lift? He's a brother of man,
And bearing about all the burden he can.
Did you give him a smile? He was downcast and blue,
And the smile would have helped him to battle it through.
Did you give him your hand? He was slipping down hill,
And the world, so I fancied, was using him ill.
Did you give him a word? Did you show him the road?
Or did you just let him go on with his load?
Do you know what it means to be losing the fight,
When a lift just in time might set everything right?
Do you know what it means - just a clasp of a hand,
When a man's borne about all a man ought to stand?
Did you ask what it was - why the quivering lip?
Why the half-suppressed sob, and the scalding tear's drip?
Were you brother of his when the time came of need?
Did you offer to help him or didn't you heed?
Unknown
WHERE ARE THE NINE? (LUKE 17:17)
I meant to go back but, well you may guess.
I was filled with amazement I cannot express;
To think that after those horrible years
What passion of loathing and passion of fears,
My sores unendurable, eaten, defiled:
My flesh was as smooth as the flesh of a child,
I was drunken with joy, I was raptured with glee,
I scarcely could walk and I scarcely could see
For the dazzle of sunshine where all had been black,
But I meant to go back,--oh, I meant to go back.
I had thought to return when my people came out
There were tears of rejoicing, laughter and shout
They embraced me, for years I had not known a kiss,
Ah, the pressure of lips is an exquisite bliss!
They crowded around me, they filled the whole place;
They looked at my feet, and my hands and my face.
My children were there and my glorious wife,
And all the forgotten allurements of life.
My cup was so full, I seemed nothing to lack;
But I meant to go back, I meant to go back.
I had started - yes, Luke , I had started to find
The Healer so mighty, so tender, so kind;
But work pressed upon me, my business you know,
For all of those years I was forced to let go:
I had tools to collect, I had orders to get
I found my poor family burdened with debt:
My time was all taken with labor and care,
The days went more swiftly than I was aware,
The practical problems I had to attack,
But I meant to go back - Oh, I meant to go back!
I never supposed He would wait my return,
Just one of the ten; and would linger and yearn
As you told me He did, Luke, why, Luke, had I thought,
There was no one on earth I would sooner have sought:
I'd show Him my body all perfect and strong,
I'd have thanked Him and praised Him before the great throng.
I'd have followed Him gladly forever and aye,
Had I thought that He minded my staying away:
He's so great, I so little and paltry, alack!
Had I only gone back, had I only gone back!
Author Unknown
Here is a story that tugs at our hearts, but with a great deal of uncomfortableness. If we are sensitive in the least, we can feel the heartache of Jesus in this situation. What disappointment rings in the words and voice of Jesus as He says, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Luke 17: 17
--
http://www.heaven4sure.com
TROUBLE IS A SERVANT
All of us know trouble--at least I hope we do;
Trouble is a servant, but known as such to few.
We are taught to shun her and, if she comes too near,
Seldom do we face her but run away in fear.
Good and bad must meet her in the universe around--
Sinners, saints, kings, and knaves--she comes where man is found.
Always make her serve you, for she can serve you well;
Just HOW you may use her your life will always tell.
Trouble is but passive--it's by our power to will
We make her either bless us or do the soul some ill.
How do you translate her from phrases filled with pain
To messages of strength--from loss to endless gain?
By faith we see behind the outer frightful mask
A servant in disguise, to do a gracious task.
Hearts may feel her wounding and life may suffer loss;
Faith translates her working, as freeing gold from dross.
Trouble will discover to any yielded heart
Hidden depths of power it only knew in part;
Sympathizing power, and love that understands;
Strength to help another with trouble-tested hands.
Trouble will release you from self and make you kind,
Adding new dimensions to heart and soul and mind.
Do not shun this servant, but look beyond her task
To beauty she will work---for which you daily ask.
Always see in trouble a chance to grow in grace,
Not a stroke of evil to hinder in your race.
Live the life triumphant above her fiery darts;
Rich fruitage will be yours to share with needy hearts.
--John Wright Follette
Are you really playing fair and square with your boy or are you cheating him
in any way?
The thought came to us the other day when the mail brought a newspaper
clipping from a good friend which we are reprinting for the benifit of fathers
who are not acting in the fifty fifty spirit:
"WHY ONE BOY LEFT THE FARM"
I left my dad, his farm, his plow
Because my calf became his cow;
I left my dad-- 'twas wrong, of course
Because my colt became his horse.
I left my dad to sow and reap
Because my lamb became his sheep;
I dropped my hoe and struck my fork
Because my pig became his pork.
The garden truck I haad to grow
Was his to sell and mine to hoe.
"WHY ANOTHER DIDN'T"
With dad an me it's half an half;
The cow I own was once his calf.
No town for myne, I will not bolt,
Because my horse was once his colt.
I'm going to stick right where I am,
Because my sheep was once his lamb.
I'll stay with dad--- he gets my vote
Because my hog was once his shoate.
It's fifty-fifty with dad an me,
A profit sharing company.
That's pretty good isn't it ! If the first verse
happens to hit you between the eyes, you are indeed
unfortunate; But if the second verse applies in your case, it makes you feel
glorious.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
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