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27th December 2005

A Boy and His Dog

A boy and his dog make a glorious pair:

No better friendship is found anywhere-

For they talk and they walk and they run and they play

And they have their deep secrets for many a day.

And that boy has a comrade who thinks and who feels,

Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels-

He may go where he will and his dog will be there,

May revel in mud and his dog will not care.

Faithful he'll stay for the slightest command

And bark with delight at the touch of his hand-

Oh, he owns a treasure which nobody steals,

Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels.

No other can lure him away from his side;

He's proof against riches and station and pride-

Fine dress does not charm him, and flattery's breath

Is lost on the dog, for he's faithful to death.

He sees the great soul which the body conceals

Oh, it's great to be young with a dog at your heels!

Edgar Guest

Judge Gently

  Pray do not find fault with the man

Who limps or stumbles along the road –

Unless you have worn the shoes he wears

Or struggled beneath his load.

There may be stones in his shoes that hurt

Though hidden away from view -

Or the burden he bears - if placed on your back

Might cause you to stumble too.

Don't sneer at the man who's down today

Unless you have felt the blow -

That caused his fall or felt the shame

That only the fallen know.

You may be strong, but still the blows

That were his ... if dealt to you -

In the selfsame way at the selfsame time

Might cause you to stagger too.

Don't be too harsh with the man who sins

Or pelt him with word or stone -

Unless you are sure...yea!  doubly sure

That you have no sins of your own.

For you know...perhaps if the tempters voice

Should whisper as softly to you -

As it did to him ... when he went astray

Could cause you to falter too.

Tears

There is a sacredness in tears.

They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.

They speak more eloquently than 10,000 tongues.

They are the messengers of overwhelming grief,

of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

He who serves

He who serves and seeks for gain

And never follows but for form -

Will pack when it begins to rain

And leave thee in the storm.

Oh as we prove the life boat, so of't we prove a friend -

And those who promise least of all, are truest in the end.

He who gets and never gives

Will lose the truest friend that lives -

He who gives and never gets

Will break his friendship with regrets.

Giving and getting, these alone

A friendship lives or dies a moan.

      GROWING  OLD

~  Recited by George Walker  a Gospel Preacher when he

became 100 years of age.  ~

They call it going down the hill when we are growing old

They speak in mournful accents as if our tale was told -

They sigh when speaking of the past of days that used to be

As if the future was not bright with immortality.

But 'tis not going down the hill, 'tis climbing up much higher

Until we almost see the heights to which our souls aspire -

For if these natural eyes grow dim, 'tis but to dim the earth

While eyes of faith grow clearer to discern the Saviour's worth.

Who would exchange for shooting blade the waving golden grain?

Or when the corn is fully ripe would wish it green again?

And who would wish the hoary head found in the way of Truth

To be again encircled with the sunny locks of youth?

For though our outward man may perish and decay

The inward man can be renewed by grace from day to day -

Those implanted in the Lord unshaken in the root

Shall in their old age flourish and bring forth choicest fruit.

'Tis not years that make men old, the spirit can be young

Though fully three score years and ten the which of life have run -

God has Himself assured us in His Blessed Word of Truth

They that wait upon the Lord shall thus renew their youth.

 

So when the eyes now dim with tears shall behold the King

And ears now dull of hearing shall hear all heaven sing -

And on the head now hoary be placed the crown of gold

We shall know the lasting joy of never growing old.

'The Broken Harp'

In the corner, of the basement,

Stood a cobweb covered harp.

Broken now and so forsaken,

There it stood back in the dark.

No one, in the little village,

Could repair the harp again.

And, you'd never guess the music

Or the places it had been.

Came a ragged man a beggin'

For a place out of the cold,

He was bent and slightly limpin'.

He was lookin' frail and old.

So, the houseman gave permission.

He could sleep upon the floor

Of the basement, where was kept

The harp - with melody no more.

Soon, the house was filled with music!

'Twas as sweet as angels bring.

And, the household came a-runnin',

Just to see the vibrant strings!

Dusted now, it stood in beauty.

Every web was cleared away.

And, the ragged man was singing

Very softly as he played.

In his song, he told the story

How he'd made that harp, when new.

Since he'd made its first beginning,

Fixing wasn't hard to do.

Dear friend, if you are needing

Just a touch from God above,

Just remember Who has made you.

He can 'fix' you with His love.

He can fill the empty corners

Of your heart with song anew.

He can take each day and make

A special melody for you!

He can fix the broken pieces,

Better even than before,

And open wide the storehouse

Of His blessings evermore!

There is a never ending arbor

Where two may walk in peace

Along an autumn lane

Where loving cannot cease

Sheltered by the branches

Of bronzed all golden trees

O'er shadowing the emptiness

Protection from the wind

The trunks provide direction

A barrier to keep

The path along the very way

Two friends will want to be

The leaves whirl down as kisses

So soft, of pretty wing

Twirling in the breezes

The pretty notes we sing

The path beneath is firm

Yet, tender 'neath our feet

Of crunchy leaf and gentle moss

Foundation that we need

And here within God's canopy

We walk in Autumn winds

The torch framed path to winter

Where warm in Him we'll be

Nobody walks alone

Whenever the pathway of life seems rough

And under your burden, you groan

Just remember, wherever that path may go,

Nobody walks alone.

When all your friends have let you down

And all your dreams have flown,

Just keep reminding your heavy heart,

Nobody walk alone.

Then suddenly you’ll feel God’s hand in yours,

And his eyes uplifting your own

And you’ll hear His gentle forgiving voice,

Nobody walks alone

Sacred Flame

True love is a sacred flame

That burns with gentle warmth,

And none can dim its special glow

Or change its destiny.

True love speaks in tender tones

And hears with gentle ear,

True love gives with open heart

And true love conquers fear.

True love makes no harsh demands

It neither rules nor binds,

And true love holds with gentle hands

The hearts that it entwines.

The Pioneers

They came of bold and roving stock that would not fixed abide;

They were the sons of field and flock since e'er they learned to ride,

We may not hope to see such men in these degenerate years

As those explorers of the bush - the brave old pioneers.

'Twas they who rode the trackless bush in heat and storm and drought;

'Twas they that heard the master-word that called them further out;

'Twas they that followed up the trail the mountain cattle made

And pressed across the mighty range where now their bones are laid.

But now the times are dull and slow, the brave old days are dead

When hardly bushmen started out, and forced their way ahead

By tangled scrub and forests grim towards the unknown west,

And spied the far-out promised land from off the ranges' crest.

Oh! ye, that sleep in lonely graves by far-off ridge and plain,

We drink to you in silence now as Christmas comes again,

The men who fought the wilderness through rough, unsettled years -

The founders of our nation's life, the brave old pioneers