Thursday, September 30, 2010

Apology

I know not what to think of my own mind,
against my good and health it seems to work.

When seeing well, it often strikes me blind,
and makes me treat my friend as but a turk.

So many times an issue seems resolved,
and then solutions seem not to apply.

It brings in many things that aren't involved,
and sometimes makes me wish that I could die.

If I could but master mind and heart,
to make them work concordantly.

Then could I play the better part,
and live my life so joyfully.

Oh wretched mind, why dost thou so afflict,
to cause me pain and unending grief?

E'en when I strive to rule thee ever strict,
it seems that I will never have relief.

So forgive me friend that I so often wound,
I would not hurt the for the gold of Jove.

I hope that my bad parts still may be pruned,
and so be ever true to those I love.

To Ashley

My darling brother who I scarcely knew,
whom cruel fate has taken from this earth.

Cursed be the day on which your lot God drew.
You left the world and with you went all mirth.

Much have I missed because you now lay dead,
I've missed your love, your manner, and your speech.

Perhaps you now would comfort me when overcome with dread,
and I would be at rest if I had but you to teach.

You would by now be fully grown; a man,
preparing to go out into the world.

What joy it would have been to help you find your place,
to see you charge with manhood's flag unfurled.

How many nights might we have set and talked,
and passed the time so pleasantly.

How many fields might we have gayly walked,
the thought of it is heavenly.

But now, alas, those joys shall not be mine.
I must press on without those pleasures rare.

If God above should to my words incline,
I hope that he may greet you, brother fair.

One Cannot Slay His Thoughts

I would that all my foes would come with sword and mace,
and strive my life to end in combat on the field.

Then I could stand to look my attacker in the face,
against my wretched enemy my own sword could I wield.

Oh joy of joys and bliss divine to kill that wretched foe,
to leave the field of battle with his blood upon my sword.

But thoughts cannot be slain though they fill my soul with woe,
they come from every side attacking like an hoard.

Whence came you monsters, demon race, that do my soul afflict?
Stay your hands from this mission base and give my mind some rest.

No matter what I should conclude some one will then convict,
I wish I never learned to think, then would I be bless't.

For thoughts can be as precious as an ancient jewel,
and yet some times as fatal as losing at a duel.

A Table Prayer

+ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.  Amen.

Almighty God, I thank you for this food which I have received from your gracious hand.  Help it to strengthen and nourish me so that with full vigor I might serve and glorify you.  In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen

Christmas 2009

Christ is come to visit man,
and work salvation's glorious plan.

Forsaking throne and crown and all,
to break down Satan's prison wall.

He came to pay the toll for sin,
that we might be sons of God again.

Born to die on our behalf,
He is our sacrificial calf.

He's sacrifice and great high priest,
this king who made himself the least.

Forsaking glory, pow'r and might,
to sleep with cattle on that night.

He was brought low to be raised high,
upon a cross of woe to die.

The blameless dying for out sin,
that we might be raised again with him.

Oh praise his name you sinful souls,
He's scribed your names upon his scroll.

He's made us sons and heirs with him,
heirs of a kingdom that shall not end.

Of Sanctification

Grief Despair and uttermost dread,
What shall become of my soul when I’m dead?
In glory it may be where the Lord can be seen,
Or in darkest of Hells where the company is mean.
Oh pray to the Lord thy soul to protect,
To purge thy black soul where sin he detect.
For the blood of our Lord does cleanse and make white,
The spirit that once was dark as the night.
Sing praises to Him when thy life doth look grim,
In trials so sore do sing Him an hymn.
Glory to God the Father of all,
Praise ye the Son who victory won.
Adore ye the Spirit so holy and just,
In the three that are one, now place all your trust. 

The Agnostic’s Recovery

Oh doubting heart and straying mind,
I pray you quit your course.

You both are feeble and quite blind,
You’ll only reap remorse.

For God is there you know it’s true,
He reigns from up above.

He does with live all men endue,
And nurtures them with love.

“Show yourself” you oft’ demand,
Of the Lord of all.

You must but look to see his hand,
On this terrestrial ball.

His name is on the scroll of blue,
That stretches up above.

His face in every pretty hue,
His voice is in the dove.

Whence came all this without our God?
I implore you, answer me.

Pay homage to the one whose blood,
Did wet that rugged tree.

For he did make you from the dust,
And gave you breath to breathe.

He then did save you from sin’s lust,
When your sins His heart did grieve.

So prostrate now your sinful self,
And praise the ageless King.

In Him alone you’ll find your wealth,
In Him your everything.

The Agnostic’s Musing

Oh, would that I could know if god is there,
Concern’ed with the cares of mortal men.

Who else produced this tender world and fair?
Who else with tempest does the heavens rend?

But can these things for him prove evidence,
When many other causes there could be?

What then of evil and of violence,
And what of the biggot’s imbicility?

If the world should be beneath his governance,
The world then is most vexed by his inconstancy.

Could the god of such a world be held so wise,
Who cannot from this sphere the evil drive?

But then who holds the stars up in the skies,
And who did put the beauty in man’s face?

What stings the heart of man when he tells lies,
Why else would men see thievery as base?

And why would I be comforted in prayer,
If the god that hears me is not there?

But if some one receives the prayers of men,
Why then do hunger and sickness still remain?

If some one hears, would he not answer them,
And give the children just a little grain?

The Knight to His Lady

I take up my sword on thy behalf, 
And in thy service do I bear my staff. 
For, Thou art my lady and I thy knight, 
And for thee always will I go to fight. 
Thy glorious hero I would be, 
For I am nothing apart from thee. 
‘Tis for thy glory I do fight, 
In thy service with all my might. 
So if all friends should thee leave in flight, 
I shall remain through darkest night. 
Fear not my dearest and cower never, 
Think not of trials nor stormy weather. 
I shall be with thee until the end, 
And give my life thee to defend 


This poem was published in the winter edition of the Putnam County Literary Magazine in 2010.  

The Last Breath

I would to thee confession make, 
Before my last breath I do take. 
For I shall die no more to wake, 
And in His presence shall I quake. 
Chief of sinners I am indeed, 
But it was for me that Christ did bleed. 
Bound am I by pride and greed, 
But by his passion I am freed. 
No more to serve that awful master, 
Absolved am I declares the pastor. 
Glory to His name on high! 
I am not afraid to die.

A Christian’s Answer to Temptation

I cannot give myself to you for I am not my own, 
My heart is held by the Lord of All who sits upon his throne. 
He it was that made me and quickened me to life, 
And ever I’ll go with him through battles or through strife. 
When e’er I fall he lifts me up and sets me on the road, 
And if I stray he drives me back as with a shepherd’s goad. 
Some times my heart grows weary forgetting what he’s done, 
And in a fit of madness from him I’ll try to run. 
But then he does remind me of his precious son, 
And how he came to save me although I was undone. 
For I had sold my soul to a master oh so black, 
But Christ did liberate me and give my freedom back. 
So ever I shall serve him until the day I die, 
And then I’ll go to praise him forever more on high.