POEMS and Sayings for the PREACHER
I have gathered these poems over the years. Some I use over and over again. I may have them punctuated incorrectly. I will be pleased if you can help me make corrections. The titles may not be correct, and many authors I do not know. Any help you can pass along I will appreciate.

From John Newton's poem:

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopp'd my wild career:

I saw One hanging on a Tree
In agonies and blood,
Who fix'd His languid eyes on me.
As near His Cross I stood.

Sure never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look:
It seem'd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke:

"I've tried in vain a thousand ways, My fears to quell, my hopes to raise;
But all I need, the Bible says, is Jesus.
My soul is night, my heart is steel, I cannot see, I cannot feel,
For life, for light, I must appeal to Jesus.
He died, He lives, He reigns, He pleads, There's love in all His words and deeds,
All-All the guilty sinner needs is Jesus.
Though some will mock, though some will blame, In spite of fear, in spite of shame,
I'll go to Him, because His name is Jesus."

I had walked life's path with an easy tread, Had followed where comfort and pleasure led;
And then by chance in a quiet place -- I met my Master face to face.
With station and rank and wealth for goal, Much thought for body but none for soul,
I had entered to win this life's mad race -- When I met my Master face to face.
I had built my castles, reared them high, Their towers had pierced the blue of the sky;
I had sworn to rule with an iron mace -- When I met my Master face to face.
I met Him and knew Him, and blushed to see, That His eyes full of sorrow were fixed on me;
And I faltered, and fell at His feet that day, My castles vanished and melted away.
Melted and vanished; and in their place, I saw naught else but my Master's face;
And I cried: "Oh, make me meet, To follow the marks of Thy wounded feet."
My thought is now for the souls of men; I have lost my life to find it again
Ever since alone in that holy place, My Master and I stood face to face.

When Jesus came to Golgotha, they hanged Him on a tree. They drove great nails through hands and feet, And made a Calvary
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, Red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days, And human flesh was cheap.
When Jesus came to THIS AREA, they simply passed Him by,
They never hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die; For men had grown more tender,
And they would not give Him pain, They only passed on down the street,
And left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried, "Forgive them For they know not what they do."
And still it rained the winter rain, That drenched Him through and through.
The crowds went home, and left the street, Without a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall, "And cried for Calvary."

THE SECRET (by Ralph Cushman)
I met God in the morning, When my day was at its best,
And His presence came like sunrise, Like a glory in my breast.
All day long the presence lingered; All day long He stayed with me;
And we sailed in perfect calmness, O'er a very troubled sea.
Other ships were blown and battered, Other ships were sore distressed,
But the winds that seemed to drive them, Brought to us a peace and rest.
Then I thought of other mornings, With a keen remorse of mind,
When I too had loosed the moorings, With the Presence left behind.
So I think I know the secret, Learned from many a troubled way;
You must seek Him in the morning, If you want Him through the day.

"I saw One hanging on a tree, In agony and blood,
He fixed His languid eyes on me, As near His cross I stood.
Sure never till my latest breath, Can I forget that look;
It seamed to charge with His death, Tho not a word He spoke.
My conscience felt owned the guilt, And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins His blood had spilt, And helped to nail Him there.
Alas, I know not what I did, But now my tears are vain
Where can my trembling soul be hid, For I the Lord have slain?
A second look He gave which said, `I freely all forgive';
This blood is for they ransom paid, I died that thou may'st live.
O can it be, upon the tree, The Savior died for me?
My soul is filled, my heart is thrilled, to think He died for me."

Give us a watchword for the hour. A thrilling word, a word of power;
A battle-cry, a flaming breath, That calls to conquest or to death;
A word to rouse the church from rest, To heed her Master's high behest,
The call is given: Ye hosts arise, Our watchword is Evangelize!
The glad evangel now proclaim, Through all the earth in Jesus' name;
This word is ringing through the skies, Evangelize! Evangelize!
To dying men, a fallen race, Make known the gift of gospel grace;
The world that now in darkness lies, Evangelize! Evangelize!

He wasn't much for stirring about: It wasn't his desire.
No matter what the others did, He was sitting by the fire.
Same old story day by day: He never seemed to tire.
While others worked to build their church, He was sitting by the fire.
At last he died as all must do: They said he went up higher.
But if he is doing what he used to do, He is sitting by the fire.

STEWARDSHIP--By George Wiseman
It is not what we EARN that makes us rich, As riches are really known,
But how HONEST we are as we lay our hand, On what we call our own.
It is not what we KEEP that gives us peace, In the age when peace is rare,
But how TRUTHFUL we are as we lay aside, Our own and the Master's share.
It is not what we SPEND that brings us joy, For life can't be bought with gold,
But how CAREFUL we are that nothing we buy, Will tend to destroy our soul.
So it's not what we EARN or KEEP or SPEND, that gives us an honest glow,
But how RIGHTEOUS we are in the face of each, When only ourselves will know.

I said, "Let me walk in the fields." He said, "No, walk in the town."
I said, "There are no flowers there." He said, "No flowers, but a crown."
I said, "But the skies are black, There is nothing but noise and din";
And he wept as he sent me back; "There is more," he said, "There is sin."
I said, "But the air is thick, And fogs are veiling the sun."
He answered, "Yet souls are sick, And souls in the dark undone."
I said, "I shall miss the light, And friends will miss me, they say,"
He answered, "Choose tonight, If I am to miss you, or they."
I plead for a time to be given, He said, "Is is hard to decide?
It will not seem hard in Heaven, To have followed the steps of your Guide."
I cast one look at the fields, Then set my face to the town,
He said, "My child, do you yield? Will you leave the flowers for the crown?"
Then into His hand went mine; And into my heart came He;
And I walk in a light divine, The path I had feared to see.

"Tend That for Me"
Father, where shall I work today?" And my love flowed warm and free.
Then He pointed me toward a tiny spot, And said, "Tend that for Me."
I answered quickly. "Oh, no, not that, Why, no one would ever see,
No matter how well my work was done, In that little place for me."
And the word He spoke, it was not stern, He answered me tenderly:
"Ah, little one, search that heart of thine, Art though working for them or Me?
Nazareth was a little place, And so was Galilee."

Good Timber
The tree that never had to fight, For sun and sky and air and light,
That stood out in the open plain, and always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king, But lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to toil, To heaven from the common soil,
Who never had to win his share, Of sun and sky and light and air,
never became a manly man, But lived and died as he began.
Good timber does not grow in ease; The stronger wind, the tougher trees;
The farther sky, the greater length; The more the storm, the more the strength;
By sun and cold, by rain and snows, In tree or man, good timber grows.
Where thickest stands the forest growth, We find the patriarchs of both;
And they hold converse with the stars, Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and of much strife -- This is the common law of life.
--Douglas Malloch

When you get what you want in your struggle with life, And the world makes you king for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say.
For it isn't your father, or mother, or wife, Whose judgment upon you must pass;
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life, Is the man staring back from the glass.
He's the man to please, never mind all the rest; For he stays with you to the end;
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test, If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may mimic Jack Horner and chisel a plum, And think you're a wonderful guy;
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum, If you can't look him straight in the eye.
You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years, And get pats on the back as you pass;
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears, If you've cheated the man in the glass.

"'Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed; Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;
But over its terrible edge there had slipped, A duke and full many a peasant;
So the people said something would have to be done, But their projects did not at all tally.
Some said, `Put a fence `round the edge of the cliff.', Some, `An ambulance down in the valley.'
But the cry for the ambulance carried the day, For it spread through the neighboring city;
A fence may be useful or not, it is true; But each heart became brimful of pity
For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff, And the dwellers in highway and alley
Gave pounds or gave pence, not to put up a fence, But an ambulance down in the valley.
`For the cliff is all right, if you're careful,' they said, And if folks even slip and are dropping,
It isn't the slipping that hurts them so much, As the shock down below when they're stopping.'
So day after day as these mishaps occurred, Quick forth would the rescuers sally,
To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff, With their ambulance down in the valley.
Then an old sage remarked, `It's a marvel to me, That people give far more attention
To repairing results than to stopping the cause, When they'd much better aim at prevention.
Let us stop at its source all this mischief,' cried he, Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;
If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense With the ambulance down in the valley.'
Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old, For the voice of true wisdom is calling;
`To rescue the fallen is good, but 'tis best, To prevent other people from falling.'
Better close up the source of temptation and crime, Than deliver from dungeon or galley;
Better put a strong fence round the top of the cliff, Than an ambulance down in the valley"

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
"I asked for help, that I might do greater things.
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
"I asked for riches, that I might be happy. I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
"I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life, I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
"I got nothing that I asked for--but everything I had hoped for.
Despite myself, my prayers were answered. I am, among all men most richly blessed.!"

There it stands, like a mighty rock, In the midst of a raging sea;
The Bible stands, though men may mock, and attack if vehemently!
Why do men mock and hate it so? This Book of eternal salvation!
Could it be that wicked men know, It warns of their condemnation?
They have burned it, and spurned it, And explained it away;
They have denied and spiritualized, But the Book is here to stay!
And though wicked men like Jehoiakim, May take their penknives and whittle,
The Bible will not be expired by them, Not even one jot or tittle!
For should they destroy it from the earth, This Book which God has given;
`Tis settled forever from the first, And has been preserved in heaven!
They shall be judged by this Holy Word, All those sins have not been atoned,
When they meet a thrice-Holy God, At the great white judgment throne!
by Kathryn Perrish

The Set of the Sails
One ship sails East, And another West,
By the selfsame winds that blow;
`Tis the set of the sails, And not the gales,
That tells them the way to go!
Like the winds of the sea, Are the waves of Time,
As we voyage along through life; Tis the set of the soul
That determines the goal, And not the calm or the strife!

Ten minus one equals more than ten
When the tenth is given to Him
Ten minus one equals more than ten
To withhold it is a sin
Ten minus one equals more than ten
Do you give it every week?
Ten minus one equals more than ten
Tithe if God's blessing you seek
Ten minus one equals more than ten
Into the storehouse it all should go
Ten minus one equals more than ten
Give it and watch it grow
Ten minus one equals more than ten
Would a man rob God of His due?
Ten minus one equals more than ten
The tithe applies to you

"If a man would be a soldier, He'd expect of course to fight;
And he couldn't be an author, If he didn't try to write.
So it isn't common logic, Doesn't have the right true ring
That a man, to be a Christian, Doesn't have to do a thing.
If a man would be a hunter, He must go among the trees;
And he couldn't be a sailor, If he wouldn't sail the seas.
How strange for any member, Of the church to think that he
Can stay away from worship, And a worthy Christian Be!"

DREAM BIG A Living Faith
I've dreamed many dreams that never came true,
I've seen them vanish at dawn,
But I've realized enough of my dreams, thank God,
To make me want to dream on.
I've prayed many prayers when no answer came
Though I waited patient and long,
But answers have come to enough of my prayers
To make me keep praying on.
I've trusted many a friend that failed,
And left me to weep alone,
But I've found enough of my friends true blue,
To make me keep trusting on.
I've sown many seed that fell by the way,
For the birds to feed upon,
But enough golden sheaves in my hands
To make me keep sowing on.
I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain
And gone many days without song,
But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life
To make me want to live on.

Nine Ways to Say "I-AM" in Hebrew
I am that I am
I am that I was
I am that I shall be
I was that I am
I was that I was
I was that I shall be
I shall be that I am
I shall be that I was
I shall be that I shall be
Absolutely timeless & endless, God is not subject to time, time doesn't change God.

Today upon the bus, I saw, A lovely maid with golden hair
I envied her--she seemed so gay -- And oh, I wished I were so fair.
When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle;
She had one foot and wore a crutch, But as she passed, a smile.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine; I have two feet--the world is mine.
And when I stopped to buy some sweets, The lad serving had such charm.
He seemed to radiate good cheer, His manner was so kind and warm.
I said, "It's nice to deal with you, Such courtesy I seldom find."
He turned and said, "Oh, thank you, sir!" And I saw that he was blind.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine; I have two eyes--the world is mine.
Then, when walking down the street, I saw a child with eyes of blue.
He stood and watched the others play; It seemed he knew not what to do,
I stopped a moment, then I said: "Why don't you join the others, dear?"
He looked ahead without a word, And then I knew; He could not hear.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine; I have two ears--the world is mine.
With feet to take me where I'd go, With eyes to see the sunset's glow,
With ears to hear what I should know: I'm blessed indeed,
The world is mine: Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.

Ah, when I look up at that Cross, Where God's great Steward suffered loss
Yea, loss of life and blood for me! A trifling thing it seems to be
to pay the tithe, dear Lord, to Thee,
Of time or talent, wealth or store -- Full well I know I owe Thee more;
A million times I owe Thee more!
But that is just the reason why, I lift my heart to God on high,
And pledge Thee by this portion small, My life, my love, my all in all!
This holy Token at Thy Cross, I know, as gold, must seem but dross;
But in my heart, Lord, Thou dost see, How it has pledged my all to Thee,
That I steward true may be!

I wonder why the Lord did ask, For tithes, from you and me;
When all the treasures of the earth Are His--eternally?
But He said to bring our little, And He would add His much;
Then all the heavenly windows, Would be opened at His touch.
And blessings running over-- Even more than has been told--
Will be ours; but there's no promise If His portion we withhold.
Are we afraid to prove Him? Is our faith and love so small,
That we tightly grasp our little, When He freely gave His all?

Christ has no hands but our hands, To do his work today;
He has no feet but our feet, To lead men in His way;
He has no tongue but our tongues, To tell men how He died;
He has no help but our help, To bring them to His side.
We are the only Bible, The careless world will read;
We are the sinner's Gospel, We are the scoffer's creed;
We are the Lord's last message, Written in deed and word--
What if the line is crooked? What if the type is blurred:
What if our hands are busy, With other work than His?
What if our feet are walking, Where sin's allurement is?
What if our tongues are speaking, Of things His lips would spurn?
How can we hope to help Him, Unless from Him we Learn?
Annie Johnson

A city full of churches, Great preachers, lettered men,
Grand music, choirs and organs, If these all fail--what then?
Good workers, eager, earnest, Who labor by the hour:
But where, oh where my brother, Is God's Almighty Power.
Refinement-education, They have the very best.
Their plans & schemes are perfect, They give themselves no rest.
They get the best of talent, They try their uttermost,
But what they need my brother, Is God -- the Holy Ghost.

They borrowed a bed to lay His head
When Christ the Lord came down;
They borrowed the ass in the mountain pass
For Him to ride to town;
But the crown that He wore and the cross that He bore
were His own-- The cross was His own.
He borrowed the bread when the crowd He fed
On the grassy mountainside;
He borrowed the dish of broken fish
With which He satisfied;
But the crown that He wore and the cross that He bore
were His own-- The cross was His own.
He borrowed the ship in which to sit
To teach the multitude;
He borrowed a next in which to rest;
He had never a home so rude;
But the crown that He wore and the cross that He bore
were His own-- The cross was His own.
He borrowed a room on His was to the tomb,
The Passover lamb to eat;
They borrowed a cave for Him a grave,
They borrowed a winding sheet;
But the crown that He wore and the cross that He bore
Were His own-- The cross was His own.

An old man, traveling a lone highway, Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and deep and wide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim - The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side, And built a bridge to span the tide.
"Old man," said a pilgrim standing near, "You are wasting your strength in building
Your journey will end with the closing day; You never again will pass this way.
Why build this bridge at eventide?"
The builder lifted his old gray head: "Good friend, in the path I've come," he said,
"There followeth after me today, A youth whose feet must pass this way;
The chasm that has been as naught to me, To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;
He too must cross in the twilight dim- Good friend, I'm building this bridge for him."

A saloon is sometimes called a bar, A bar to Heaven, a door to hell
Whoever named it named it well.
A bar to manliness and to wealth, A door to want and broken health.
A bar to honor pride and fame, A door to sin and grief and shame.
A bar to hope, a bar to prayer, A door to darkness and despair.
A bar to honored useful life, A door to brawling, senseless strife.
A bar to all that's true and brave, A door to every drunkard's grave.
A bar to joys that home imparts, A door to tears and aching hearts.
A bar to Heaven, a door to hell, Whoever named it, named it well.

If you want to get a favor done
By some obliging friend,
And want a promise safe and sure
On which you may depend.
Don't go to him who always has
Much leisure time to plan,
But if you want your favor done,
Just ask the busy man.
The man of leisure never has
A moment he can spare;
He's busy "putting off" until
His friends are in despair;
But he whose every waking hour
Is crowded full of work,
Forgets the art of wasting time--
He cannot stop to shirk.
So when you want a favor done,
And want it right away,
Go to the man who constantly
Works twenty hours a day.

I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord
Real service is what I desire.
I'll say what you want me to say dear Lord,
But please don't ask me to sing in the choir.
I'll say what you want me to say dear Lord,
I like to see things come to pass.
But don't ask me to teach girls or boys, dear Lord--
I'd rather just stay in my class
I'll do what you want me to do, dear Lord.
I long for the kingdom to thrive.
I give you my nickels and dimes, dear Lord.
But please don't ask me to tithe.
I'll do what you want me to do, dear Lord.
I long to be in the thick of the fight.
I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord.
But please not to church on Sunday night."

I took a piece of plastic clay, And idly fashioned it one day;
And as my fingers pressed it still, It moved and yielded to my will.
I came again when days were past, The bit of clay was hard at last.
The form I gave it still it bore, But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay, And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art, A young child's soft and yielding heart.
I came again, when years were gone, It was a man I looked upon;
He still that early impress bore, And I could change it nevermore.

1. He has but one great purpose.
2. He has removed every hindrance.
3. He has placed himself at God's disposal.
4. He has learned how to prevail in prayer.
5. He is a student of the Word.
6. He has a vital message for a lost world.
7. He is a man of faith who expects results.
8. He works in the anointing of the Holy Spirit.

We need good sight to avoid being fall guys
Give us good vision that we may know where to stand
and what to stand for, because unless we stand for
something, we shall fall for anything.
--Peter Marshall in MR. JONES MEETS THE MASTER

I am only one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything, but I can to something.
What I can do, I ought to do:
What I ought to do, I will do.

To every man there openeth, A way, and ways, and a way,
And the high soul climbs the high way, And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between, on the misty flats, The rest drift to and fro.
But to every man there openeth, A highway, and a low.
And every man decideth, The way his soul shall go.

I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser, For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow, And not a word said she;
But, oh, the things I learned from her, When Sorrow walked with me!
Robert B. Hamilton

"It takes a little courage, And a little self-control,
And some grim determination, If you want to reach a goal.
It takes a deal of striving, And a firm and stern set chin,
No matter what the battle, If you're really out to win.
"There's no easy path to glory, There's no rosy road to fame,
Life, however we may view it, Is no simple parlor game;
But its prizes call for fighting, For endurance and for grit,
For a rugged disposition, And a "don't know-when-to-quit."

"Master, where shall I work today?", And my love flowed warm and free;
And He pointed out a tiny plot, And He said, "Tend that for Me."
But I answered quickly, "Oh, no, not there; Not any one could see
No matter how well my task was done -- Not that little place for me!"
And His voice, when He spoke, it was not stern, But He answered me tenderly:
"Disciple, search that heart of thine; Are you working for them, or for Me?
Nazareth was just a little place, And so was Galilee."

"I came to your church last Sunday, I walked up and down the aisle,
I noticed your seat was vacant," Said the Master, with a kindly smile.
"Yes, I was at home," I answered, "Some folks from up Salem way
Drove down for a week-end visit, So we stayed in the house all day.
Or, "I had an awful headache," "I had a roast in the pan,"
Or, "We overslept this morning, But I go whenever I can."
The Master gazed at me sadly, As He was about to speak,
"My child," He replied, "are there, not six other days in the week?"
I saw I had grieved my Master, As slowly He turned away,
And I vowed He'd not find me absent, Again on His holy day.

If you should wake some dreadful day. Before His throne, and hear Him say:
"I am the Way you did not take, Although I died, for your sake;
I am the Truth you did not heed, You were so sure you had no need
I am the Light you did not see -- Now, darkness for eternity!"
You cannot say, "I did not know." He plainly wrote and told you so.
And if you would not read His Word, That Word still stands,
"Thus saith the Lord."

Beautiful is the large church, With stately arch and steeple;
Neighborly is the small church, With groups of friendly people;
Reverent is the old church, With centuries of grace;
And a wooden church or a stone church, Can hold an alter place.
And whether is be a rich church, Or a poor church anywhere,
Truly it is a great church, If God is worshiped there.
--Author unknown

Once I was a tadpole, grubbing in the mire, Till I became ambitious and started to aspire,
I rubbed my tail so hard against a sunken log, It disappeared completely and
I became a frog.
I struggled from my puddle and jumped upon land, And the feeling within me was glorious and grand.
It made me kind of frisky, so I hopped around a tree, Till I landed in the branches as happy as could be.
And there I spent some aeons, evolving without fail, Till I became a monkey and grew another tail.
But still I had ambitions, as the aeons quickly sped, I climbed down from the tree and walked the earth instead.
My tail got tired with trailing on the hard earth every day, And twice within my "process" that appendage passed away;
Once again I evoluted, and believe it, if you can, I awoke one summer morning and found myself a man!
Now, you tadpoles, in the mire just think what you may be, If you'll only in your puddles start to climb the family tree; I'm the genus Homo, "finished" for all the world to see, For when I told my story I was given a Ph.D.

Daddy had a little boy, his soul was white as snow, He never went to Sunday School,
cause Daddy wouldn't go!
He never heard the Word of God that, thrills the childish mind--While other
children went to class, this child was left behind.
As he grew from babe to youth, Dad saw to his dismay; a soul that once was
snowy white become a dingy gray.
Dad even started back to church and Bible study, too, He begged his preacher,
"Isn't there something you can do?"
The preacher tried and tried and said, "We're just too far behind; I tried to tell
you years ago, but you would pay no mind.
And so another soul was lost, that once was white as snow. Sunday school
would have helped, but Daddy wouldn't go!
Author Unknown

It's SILENCE when your words would hurt,
It's PATIENCE when you brother is curt,
It's DEAFNESS when some gossip flows,
It's COMPASSION for a brother's woes,
It's COURAGE when misfortune falls,
It's FIRMNESS when one's duty calls,
It's WILLINGNESS to help another,
It's TRUSTING and especially a brother,
It's RESTITUTION made when due,
It's FORGIVING when asked of you.
Author unknown

My friend, I stand in the judgment now, And feel that you're the blame some how;
On earth I walked with you day by day, And never did you point the way.
You knew the Lord in Truth and Glory, But never did you tell the story.
My knowledge then was very dim; You could have led me safe to Him.
Tho we lived together on the earth, You never told me of the second birth.
And now I stand this day condemned, Because you failed to mention Him.
You taught me many things, that's true, I called you "friend" and trusted you.
But I learn, now that it's too late, You could have kept me from this fate.
We walked by day and talked by night, And yet you showed me not the light.
You let me live, and love, and die, You knew I'd never live on High.
Yes, I called you "friend" in life. And trusted you through joy and strife.
And yet, on coming to this end, I cannot now call you "My Friend"!

Gentlemen, before you wed, Ascertain how you'll be fed,
Delve into every pan and pot, That your bride-to-be has got.
Though her kisses always please, What about her recipes?
Though her glamor makes you sigh, Can she bake an apple pie?
Now, before it is too late, Learn your gastronomic fate.
Do not trust your burning ardor, Till you've snooped around her larder.
More than once has sex appeal, Died with that initial meal.

It was a miracle when He walked on water, And a miracle when He calmed the troubled sea;
And, yes, I really do believe, That He can still do a miracle for me.
It was a miracle when He raised the dead; And a miracle when He caused the blind eyes to see.
And, yes, I still do believe, That He can do a miracle for me.
It was a miracle all the punishment He took; A miracle how He died upon the tree; But He isn't still dead, and I believe, He can still do a miracle for me.
Tommy Leake
(This young man died still looking for a physical miracle. In heaven he received something much better.)

Don't Quit
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low,  and the debts are high,
And you want to smile,  but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit -
Rest if you must,  but don't you quit.
Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar.
So, stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things go wrong that you mustn't quit.
-Author Unknown


I've dreamed many dreams that never came true,
I've seen them vanish at dawn.
But I've realized enough of my dreams, thank God
To make me want to dream on.

    I've prayed many prayers when no answer came,
    Tho' I've waited patient and long.
    But answers have come to enough of my prayers,
    To make me keep praying on.

I've trusted many a friend that failed,
And left me to weep alone.
But I've found enough of my friends true blue,
To make me keep trusting on.

    I've sown many seed that fell by the way,
    For the birds to feed upon.
    But I've had enough golden sheaves in my hand,
    To make me keep sowing on.

I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain,
I've gone many days without song.
But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life,
To make me want to live on.

The Anvil

           Last eve I paused before a blacksmith’s door
           and heard the anvil ring the vesper chime.
           And looking in, I saw old hammers on the floor,
           Worn by the beating years of time.

           “How many anvils have you had,” said I,
           “To wear and batter all these hammers so?”
           “Just one,” said he, then with a twinkle in his eyes,
           “The anvil wears the hammers out you know.”

           And so I thought, the anvil of God’s word,
           For ages skeptic blows have beat upon.
           Yet though the noise of falling blows was heard
           The anvil is unharmed—the hammers gone!
        Source unknown


"The proper way for a man to pray,"  Said Deacon Lemuel Keys,
"And the only proper attitude Is down upon his knees."

"No, I should say the way to pray,"  Said Reverend Doctor Wise,
"Is standing straight with outstretched arms And rapt and upturned eyes."

"Oh, no, no, no, said Elder Slow,  "Such posture is too proud,
A man should pray with eyes fast-closed  And head completely bowed."

"It seems to me his hands should be Austerely clasped in front,
With both thumbs pointing toward the ground," Said Reverend Doctor Blunt.

"Last year I fell in Hidgekin's well Headfirst," said Cyrus Brown,
With both my heels a-stickin' up And my head a-pointin' down.

"And I made a prayer right then and there,  The best prayer I ever said,
The prayingest prayer I ever prayed, A-standin' on my head!"


Mommy went to Heaven,
but I need her here today,
     My tummy hurts and I fell down,
I need her right away.
      Operator can you tell me
how to find her in this book?
      Is heaven in the yellow part,
I don't know where to look.
      I think my daddy needs her too,
at night I hear him cry.
      I hear him call her name sometimes,
but I really don't know why.
      Maybe if I call her,
she will hurry home to me.
      Is Heaven very far away,
is it across the sea?
      She's been gone a long,long time
she needs to come home now!
      I really need to reach her,
but I simply don't know how.
      Help me find the number please,
is it listed under "Heaven"?
      I can't read these big big words,
I am only seven.
       I'm sorry operator,
I didn't mean to make you cry,
      Is your tummy hurting too,
or is there something in your eye?
      If I call my church
maybe they will know.
      Mommy said when we need help
that's where we should go.
      I found the number to my church
tacked up on the wall.
      Thank you operator,
I'll give them a call.

                     WHAT SATAN FEARS MOST

                           What Satan fears most        Is a man on his knees;
                          Not vast marching armies    With great weaponry.

                           He knows he can stand           Against the power of men;
                           To engage us in battle      Is mere sport to him.

                           But a man on his knees                   With his head bowed in prayer
                         Is something quite different      To the prince of the air.

                         For when he sees us in prayer    To our God most high,
                           He knows we have seen             Through his devilish lies.

                         That's why Satan fears most       A man on his knees;
                         And we'll keep him trembling              If our prayers never cease.

Copyright ©1996 by Jan McIntosh

Stumbling-Block or Stepping-Stone

       Isn't it strange that princes and kings
       And clowns that caper in sawdust rings
       And common folks like you and me
          Are builders of eternity?

       To each is given a bag of tools, --
       A shapeless mass and a book of rules;
       And each must make, ere life is flown,
       A stumbling-block or a stepping-stone.

                R. L. Sharpe  "Verses I like" selected by Major Edward Bowes,

by A.M. Overton

My Father's way may twist and turn,
My heart may throb and ache,
But in my soul I'm glad I know
He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,
My hopes may fade away,
But still I'll trust my Lord to lead
For He doth know the way.

Tho' night be dark and it may seem
that day will never break;
I'll pin my faith, my all in Him,
He maketh no mistake.

There's so much now I cannot see,
My eyesight's far too dim;
But come what may, I'll simply trust
And leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift
And plain it all He'll make,
Through all the way, tho' dark to me,
He made not one mistake.

Return to Preach Him Home Page.

Return to Preach Him Sermon Index.