Poems

The Man with the Consecrated Car

Author Unknown

He couldn’t speak before a crowd; He couldn’t teach a class, But when he came to Sunday School He brought the folks ‘en masse. ’

He couldn’t sing to save his life; In public couldn’t pray; But always his ‘jalopy’ was Just crammed on each Lord’s Day.

And though he couldn’t sing, nor teach, Nor even lead in prayer, He listened well; he had a smile, And he was always there---

With all the others whom he brought Who lived near and far--And God’s work was greatly prospered For he had a consecrated car.

Note: “Churches need people to do ordinary things in extraordinary ways.“

That’s My Boy Down There

Author Unknown

Please don’t curse that boy down there; He is my son, you see; He’s only just a boy you know, But he means the world to me.

I did not raise my son, dear fan, For you to call him names; He may not be a super-star But these are high school games.

You don’t know those boys down there, They do the best they can; They’ve never tried to lose a game, They’re boys and you’re a fan.

The game belongs to them, you see, You’re really just a guest, They do not need a fan that gripes, They need the very best.

If you have nothing nice to say, Please leave the boys alone, And, if you’ve forgotten your manners, Then please just stay at home.

So, please don’t curse Those boys down there, They’ll hustle ‘til they’re done, And win or lose or tie, you see, To us, they’re number one!

The Indispensable Man

Author Unknown

Sometime, when you’re feeling important, Sometime, when your ego’s in bloom; Sometime, when you take it for granted You’re the best qualified in the room;

Sometime, when you feel that your going Would leave an unfillable hole, Just follow these simple instructions, And see how it humbles your soul.

Take a bucket and fill it with water, Put your hand in it, up to the wrist; Pull it out, and the hole that’s remaining, Is a measure of how you’ll be missed.

You may splash all you please when you enter, You can stir up the water galore, But stop, and you’ll find in a minute That it looks quite the same as before.

The moral in this quaint example, Is do just the best that you can; And be proud of yourself, but remember There’s no indispensable man.

A Teacher’s Prayer

By Dorothy Smith

Lord I need not be a preacher To minister Thy truth Just let me be a Teacher Of searching, trusting, youth !

I need not speak with eloquence Or in language high and grand, Just let me encourage them to build On the Rock and not on sand !

Oh, just to be a Teacher ! No greater joy I ask Grant me Thy help and guidance For this most important task Amen

The Bridge Builder

By Will Allen Dromgoole

An old man going on a lone highway, Came, at the evening cold and gray, To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide, Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

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 fellow pilgrim, near, “You are wasting strength with building here; Your journey will end with the ending day; You never again must pass this way, You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide, Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head: “Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said. “There followeth after me today, A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught for me, To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be. He, too, must cross in the twilight dim; Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.”

Heartprints

Author Unknown

Whatever our hands touch--We leave fingerprints! On walls, on furniture, On doorknobs, dishes, books, As we touch we leave our identity.

O God, wherever I go today, Help me to leave heartprints! Heartprints of compassion, Of understanding and love, Heartprints of kindness And genuine concern. May my heart touch a lonely neighbor, Or a runaway daughter, Or an anxious mother, Or, perhaps, a dear friend!

Lord, send me out today To leave heartprints. And if anyone should say, “I felt your touch,” May that one sense thy love Touching through me.

Judge Gently

Author Unknown

Don’t 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 tacks in his shoes that hurt, Though hidden away from view, Or the burden he bears, 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 tempter’s voice Should whisper as softly to you As it did to him when he went astray, It might cause you to falter too.

My Christmas Card List

By George A. Gladden, Sr.

I have a list of folks I know, all written in a book, And every year when Christmas comes, I go and take a look. That is when I realize these names are all a part, Not of the book they’re written in, but of my very heart

For each name stands for someone who has crossed my path sometime, And in that meeting they’ve become the rhythm in each rhyme. While it may sound fantastic for me to make this claim, I really feel that I’m composed of each remembered name.

And while you may not be aware of any special link, Just meeting you has changed my life much more than you may think. For once I’ve met somebody, the years cannot erase “ The memory of a pleasant word or of a friendly face. So, never think my Christmas cards are just a mere routine Of names upon a Christmas list, forgotten in between.

For when I send a Christmas card that is addressed to you, It’s because you’re on the list of folks I’m endeared to.

For I am but a total of the many folks I’ve met, And you happen to be one of those I prefer not to forget. Whether I have known you for many years or few, In some way you have had a part in shaping things I do.

And every year when Christmas comes I realize anew, The best gift life can offer is meeting folks like you. So, may the spirit of Christmas that forevermore endures Leave its richest blessings in the hearts of you and yours.

DAY BY DAY

Author Unknown

Let me be a little kinder, Let me be a little blinder To the faults of those about me; Let me praise a little more.

Let me be when I am weary Just a little bit more cheery, Let me serve a little better Those that I am striving for.

Let me be a little braver When temptation bids me waver; Let me strive a little harder To be all that I should be.

Let me be a little meeker With the brother that is weaker, Let me think more of my neighbor And a little less of me.

Let me be a little sweeter, Make my life a bit completer; Keep me faithful to my duty Every minute of the day.

Let me toil without complaining, Not a humble task disdaining; Let me face the summons calmly When death beckons me away.