So many times, the path seems so long,
And signposts are really just wishes.
When problems appear that turn me around,
The road through the woods is a prison.
Pride like a cloud blocks out the Light
So Truth is a place in the distance.
Patience collapses as fear overwhelms
And life is a cheerless existence.
The moments of happiness fail to return
Like all of my dreams of promotion.
The darkness takes hold as time becomes stale
And thoughts yield to wayward emotions.
With no hope within, I search for some peace
But life in the world is deceiving.
Stuck in the realm of flowers and weeds,
I cannot find love or its meaning.
But now I wait only for God and His love,
So Faith in His word must sustain me.
Sometimes a sign may find me at home,
And God will encourage and bless me.
Perhaps I am walking the path of the Light,
But I can’t perceive the direction.
Feelings and thought are changeable guides,
But God is the road to perfection.
Faith, Love, And Patience
None loves me, Father, with Thy love,
None else can meet such needs as mine;
O, grant me, as Thou shalt approve.
All that befits a child of Thine!
From every doubt and fear release.
And give me confidence and peace.
Give me a faith shall never fail,
One that shall always work by love;
And then, whatever foes assail,
They shall but higher courage move
More boldly for the truth to strive.
And more by faith in Thee to live:
A heart, that, when my days are glad,
May never from Thy way decline.
And when the sky of life grows sad.
May still submit its will to Thine, -
A heart that loves to trust in Thee,
A patient heart, create in me!
Poet: William C. Gannett
It were a blessed faith to think
That God, the great and good,
Had once enshrined himself in man,
And on his fair earth stood;
Had visited his children here,
And with a brother's voice,
Hiding his father-tone, had bid
The world in him rejoice;
Had taught us that we need not shun,
With heart or lip, to say,
"Our Father" to the One unseen
Who fills the night and day;
And that our hope man does not die
Is but the shadow far
Of faith too vast to see direct,
So deep in it we are.
A blessed faith! and men by it
The opened heavens have seen,
And known God is who always else
Blind wanderers had been.
And yet if I to win this faith
Must own the common earth
Is bare of its Creator's form;
That he who gave it birth
Did leave no sign in me that I
Was bom of him, nor spoke
His words of cheer for children now
His silence no more broke, —
Then keep that faith, O God, and give
To me, thy yearning one,
The other, greater bond, to be
Here, now, thy very son!
And dim that little hope, but teach
The one embracing trust.
That what is good God does, and says, -
God's self says, - "This I must."
And then I want no other sign;
Reveal thyself no more;
That human semblance orphans me.
Seen, but so long before.
And if to me to live seem good,
Thy goodness conquers mine;
Or should not life, but death, await,
My choice I glad resign.
Sure still that there is higher good.
That life is not my gain,
That what I think is happiness
Thou knowest would be pain.
Poetry that emphasizes that God does answer prayers, but we need to have faith, trust Him and realize He knows best.
God Is True
by M. G. Plantz
God answers prayer; sometimes
When hearts are weak.
He gives the very gifts believers seek.
But often faith must learn a deeper rest;
And trust God's silence, when He
Does not speak;
For he whose name is Love
Will send the best;
Stars may burn out nor mountain
But God is true; His promises are sure
To those who seek.
Be inspired by this Christian poem. During challenging times never lose your faith. God does know best!
Earth's Dark Day
Poet: Mary C. Plummer
Why look so sad, old earth?
Your clouds are hanging low,
You look as though you're going to weep.
What has disturbed you so?
Oh, yes I plainly understand,
Your hidden secret I know,
You're wondering if the selfish folk
Would be pleased with rain or snow.
Now do not ponder quite so deep.
But make your worry less;
Remember that 'tis God above
Who sends down what is best.
Life wasn’t meant to be easy, a time to lay down and rest,
Life’s a process of learning with many a trial and test.
Life’s not a bed of sweet roses or a sunny beach on the shore,
The hurdles we face are many, there’s much that one must endure.
Yet all the while we are traveling God is fully aware,
We’re pilgrims, this place is not permanent, a wee space of time that we share.
But we have a mission, a duty, a call to the lost must go out,
The message of Jesus the Saviour is what our journey’s about.
It’s true, we’ll find much rejection, many will treat us with scorn,
But life was not meant to be easy, at best we might feel quite forlorn.
He knows when you feel like a failure, He knows when your plans don’t succeed,
He feels the pressure you’re facing, He knows where your future will lead.
Take heart, the Master of Glory knows when you’re tattered and torn;
There’s nothing that’s hid from the Saviour, the sins that cause you mourn.
When folks reject what you stand for, the message that falls on deaf ears,
The personal message of Jesus that caused Him the taunts and the jeers.
Try to remember your calling, this whole thing is not about you;
God has requested your service, and to that mission you need to be true.
God’s not concerned about numbers, it’s faithfulness that He desires,
You take the message of Jesus; the Spirit’s the One who inspires.
Leave the results with the Saviour, diligently pray and prod;
Earnestly follow His guidance, and leave the results up to God.
Poet: Hezekiah Butterworth
I look upon the clock, - 'tis noon;
The hour of day I know full well:
It may be noon of life with me, -
It may be, but I cannot tell.
I cannot see the hand divine
That marks of life's short day the time.
I would not set the hand of fate
Back on its dial: I draw near
The thousand suns whose golden gates
Before my Saviour's throne appeal'.
That world I would not dare to claim
Except by faith in Jesus' name
God's Love In The Flowers
Poet: Mary Howitt
God might have made the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small,
The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,
Without a flower at all.
He might have made enough, enough,
For every want of ours.
For luxury, medicine, and toil;
And yet have made no flowers.
The clouds might give abundant rain.
The nightly dews might fall;
And the herb that keepeth life in man
Might yet have drunk them all.
Then wherefore, wherefore, were they made,
And dyed with rainbow light.
All fashioned with supremest grace,
Upspringing day and night, -
Springing in valleys green and low,
And on the mountain high,
And in the silent wilderness.
Where no man passes by?
Our outward life requires them not;
Then wherefore had they birth?
To minister delight to man;
To beautify the earth;
To comfort man; to whisper hope
Whene'er his faith is dim:
For He that careth for the flowers
Will care much more for him.
Poet: Lizzie York Case
There is no unbelief;
Whoever plants a leaf beneath the sod,
And waits to see it push away the clod,
Trusts he in God.
Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky,
"Be patient, heart! light breaketh by and by,"
Trusts the Most High.
Whoever sees 'neath winter's field of snow
The silent harvest of the future grow,
God's power must know.
Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep,
Content to lock each sense in slumber deep,
Knows God will keep.
Whoever says, "To-morrow," " The unknown,"
"The future," trusts that Power alone
He dares disown.
The heart that looks on when the eyelids dose.
And dares to live when life has only woes,
God's comfort knows.
There is no unbelief;
And day by day, and night, unconsciously,
The heart lives by that faith the lips deny;
God knoweth why.
My Faith Begins
Poet: Alice Wellington Rollins
My faith begins where your religion ends,
In service to mankind. This single thread
Is given to guide us through the maze of life,
You start at one end, I the other; you.
With eyes fixed only upon God, begin
With lofty faith, and, seeking but to know
And do His will who guides the universe,
You find the slender and mysterious thread
Leads down to earth, with God's divine command
To help your fellowmen; but this to me
Is something strangely vague, I see alone
The fellowmen, the suffering fellowmen.
Yet, with a cup of water in my hand
For all who thirst, who knows but I one day,
Following faithfully the slender thread.
May reach its other end, and kneel at last
With you in heaven at the feet of God?
Poet: John Grant Newman
You gaze at distant mountains bathed in light;
You've seen some lonely tree by frost turned red;
Or rosebush gay, which seemed in winter dead.
You've wondered, charmed, at many a mystic sight,
From sunset, to the glow-worm in the night.
You've studied insects, and the birds they fed!
This world seemed strangely grand as thought has led
Your soul to see God's wondrous love or might.
Are you the only creature, then, forgot?
Is your poor life outside the master plot
Of Him whose wisdom planned for all else here?
Nay, nay; God cares; you are His dearest thought;
No matter who you are, or where, or what.
Let faith in Him, then, keep your heart from fear.
I Will Not Doubt
Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea
Come drifting home with broken masts and sails;
I will believe the Hand which never fails,
From seeming evil worketh good for me.
And though I weep because those sails are tattered,
Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered,
'I trust in Thee.'
"I will not doubt, though all my prayers return
Unanswered from the still, white realm above;
I will believe it is an all-wise love
Which has refused these things for which I yearn;
And though at times I cannot keep from grieving.
Yet the pure ardor of my fixed-believing
Undimmed shall burn.
"I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain.
And troubles swarm like bees about a hive;
I will believe the heights for which I strive
Are only reached by anguish and by pain;
And though I groan and writhe beneath my crosses,
I shall yet see through my severest losses
The greater gain.
"I will not doubt, well anchored is this faith.
Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale;
So strong its courage that it will not quail
To breast the mighty unknown sea of death.
0, may I cry, though body parts with spirit,
'I do not doubt,' so listening worlds may hear it.
With my last breath."
There's A Way
Poet: Georgia C. Elliott
There's a way that no fowl knoweth
And no vulture's eye hath seen;
Over it no lion goeth,
Neither passeth aught unclean.
There's a way where weary mortals
Find release from sin and strife;
'Tis a way that's everlasting,
Blessed way and truth and life.
'Tis a way that's straight and narrow,
Where we walk by simple faith,
Even through the midst of trouble
And the shadowy vale of death.
'Tis a way beside still waters,
Where are found the paths of peace,
Where we rest amid green pastures,
And our sighs and sorrows cease.
There's a way, and walk ye In It
Meekly, humbly with thy God;
They shall run and not be weary,
That are hid with Christ in God.