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Archive for the ‘Poem’ Category

Who Pays?

Posted in Jesus, Poem, Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 1, 2016| 2 Comments »

Who Pays?

He should pay for what he’s done

Jesus paid it all.

I want to exact a price
He hurt me
He stole from me
He betrayed me
He broke my heart

Jesus paid it all.

I want him to pay
Pay for what he did
Pay for what he didn’t do
Pay for what he said
Pay for what he didn’t say

Jesus paid it all.

He’s getting away
He’s not being accountable
He’s not doing his part
He’s not stopping
He’s not sorry

But…

Jesus paid it all.

Oh, praise the One who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!
Oh, praise the One who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!
Copyright MaryBeth Mullin 7/2016

 

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Jar of Clay (cracked pot)

Posted in Poem, tagged , , on July 12, 2016|

JAR OF CLAY (Cracked Pot)

Your Spirit, ever with me
I resist
yielding
I hear You whisper
“You are mine.”
And I know resistance is futile
my tears fall
resistance leaving my body

Your Word is ever before me
truth washes me
comfort enfolds me
I resist
yielding
I hear You whisper
“I am for you.”
And I know resistance is futile
I throw myself into Your bosom
sobbing over my dark heart
wishing I could be better

The white fields surround me
ripe for harvest
my view ever myopic
I resist
yielding
I hear Your voice whisper
“If I be lifted up, I draw all men to Me.”
I know resistance is futile
I open my hands
to give as You gave
to love as You loved
Your Spirit quickens
the flickering flame
faith
this little light
this cracked pot
this clay jar
this foolish heart
A glorious supernova
illuminating darkness
in the hand of the One
Who spoke light into existence

This is amazing grace

IMG_1460

Copyright/photo credit MaryBethMullin 2016

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The puppeteer

Posted in Poem, Uncategorized, tagged on April 9, 2016|

<soft sobbing>

“Child, what’s the matter?”
“Papa, I am so mad it’s making me cry.”
“Mad about what?”
“‘They are telling lies about you, but I’m afraid to tell them to stop.”
“What kind of lies?”
“They say you aren’t fair.”
“Hmm.”
“How can you be so calm? They’re lying about you.”
“You need to see something.”
“What?”
“Go back and stand a safe distance from them. Look up. You will see them.”
“See what?”
“The strings.”
“Strings?”
“Of the puppeteer.”
“Who?”
“Go look.”

I went back as my Papa told me. I hid behind the boxes. From my hiding place, I looked up. I could just make out the strings. Strings attached to their heads. Strings attached to their jaws. As I looked to where the strings began, I saw him – the enemy of my Father – the deceiver. He was so intent on working the strings on his puppets he didn’t see me, but seeing him, a shiver ran down my spine.

Copyright 2014

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Count Your Blessings

Posted in hymns, Poem, Thanksgiving, tagged , , , on November 17, 2012|

  1. When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
    When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
    Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
    And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

    • Refrain:
      Count your blessings, name them one by one,
      Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
      Count your blessings, name them one by one,
      *Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.
      [*And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.]
  2. Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
    Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
    Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
    And you will keep singing as the days go by.
  3. When you look at others with their lands and gold,
    Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
    Count your many blessings—money cannot buy
    Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.
  4. So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
    Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
    Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
    Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

Johnson Oatman, Jr.

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To God Be the Glory by Andrae Crouch

Posted in Poem, tagged , , , on November 5, 2012|

How can I say thanks
for the things you have done for me
Things so undeserved
Yet you give to prove your love for me
The voices of a million angels
Cannot express my gratitude
All that I am or ever hope to be
I owe it all to Thee

(Chorus)
To God be the glory
To God be the glory
To God be the glory
For the things He has done
With His blood, He has saved me
By His power, He has raised me.
To God be the glory
For the things he has done

(Bridge)
Just let me live my life
And let it be pleasing, Lord to Thee
And should I gain any praise,
Let it go to Calvary.

With His blood, He has saved me
By His power, He has raised me.
To God be the glory
For the things he has done.

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Just As I Am

Posted in hymns, Poem, tagged , , , , on October 17, 2012|

  1. Just as I am, without one plea,
    But that Thy blood was shed for me,
    And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
  2. Just as I am, and waiting not
    To rid my soul of one dark blot,
    To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
  3. Just as I am, though tossed about
    With many a conflict, many a doubt,
    Fightings and fears within, without,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
  4. Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
    Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
    Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
  5. Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
    Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
    Because Thy promise I believe,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
  6. Just as I am, Thy love unknown
    Hath broken every barrier down;
    Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
    O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

By Charlotte Elliott, English Poet and Hymnwriter, March 18, 1789 – September 22, 1871

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Be Thou My Vision

Posted in hymns, Poem, tagged , , on October 10, 2012|

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
 

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
 
 Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure

This Irish Poem was translated into English by Mary Elizabeth Byrne, a scholar in Dublin, Ireland.  Eleanor Hull of Manchester, England, another scholar, took the translation and made it into verses with rhyme and meter.  It was subsequently set to a traditional Irish folk song, “Slane,” which was named for an area in Ireland where St. Patrick reportedly challenged local Druids with the gospel.

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Hymn – Francis Scott Key

Posted in Poem, tagged , , , on September 26, 2012|

Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise thee
For the bliss they love bestows,
For the pardoning grace that saves me,
And the peace that from it flows.
Help, O God! my weak endeavor,
This dull soul to rapture raise;
Thou must light the flame, or never
Can my love be warmed to praise.
 
Lord! this bosom’s ardent feeling
Vainly would my lips express;
Low before thy foot-stool kneeling
Deign thy suppliant’s prayer to bless.
Let thy grace, my soul’s chief treasure, 
Love’s pure flame within me raise;
And, since words can never measure,
Let my life show forth they praise.

–Francis Scott Key

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Poem – All Hail, Thou Noble Guest

Posted in Poem, tagged , , , on September 19, 2012|

All hail, Thou noble Guest, this morn,

Whose love did not the sinner scorn;

In my distress Thou com’st to me;

What thanks shall I return to Thee?

Were earth a thousand times as fair,

Beset with gold and jewels rare,

She yet were far too poor to be,

A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.

Ah dearest Jesus, Holy Child,

Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,

Within my heart, that it may be

A quiet chamber kept for Thee.

–Martin Luther, Translated by A.T.Russell and C. Winkworth

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Poem – Amy Carmichael

Posted in Amy Carmichael, Poem, tagged , , , on September 12, 2012|

Across the will of nature

Leads on the path of God;

Not where the flesh delighteth

The feet of Jesus trod.

Oh Jesus, Thy care is not to make

The desert a waste no more,

But to keep our feet, lest we miss the track

Where Thy feet went before.

–Amy Carmichael, Candles in the Dark

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