Quotes about psalm, page 18
Running the Race Of Life
As we run this finite race of life
To the finish line in swiftness of soul,
We undress ourselves of the baggage of strife
Take love in our steps to reach our goal.
Forgetting whatever lies behind
We set our hearts on the eternal price
Fixing our eyes on Jesus we find
His strength and power in us will arise.
As we number our days like fleeting mist
And our frailty of body declaring
The end line maybe right here in our midst
Our life may be in for a proper accounting.
For Death like a Thief always comes uninvited
And will cut through the race with his sickle
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Purpose Of Poetry
When first Man strove his thoughts to form,
New words became his goal,
Expressing hot and cold and warm
And spirit, body, soul
And heart and mind and conscience, too,
His dreams and his extremes
And ever-changing points of view
Turned into reams and reams...
From papyrus to paper size,
From words etched into stone,
Are truths writ there before our eyes
And laws that must be known...
As writers scratched their inky quills,
Inventors thought ahead
And simply by their thinking skills
Came fountain pens instead...
Computers came, both good and bad,
At our own risk, take care...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Ocean
They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
~ Psalm cvii. 23, 24.
HE that in venturous barks hath been
A wanderer on the deep,
Can tell of many an awful scene,
Where storms for ever sweep.
For many a fair, majestic sight
Hath met his wandering eye,
Beneath the streaming northern light,
Or blaze of Indian sky.
Go! ask him of the whirlpool's roar,
Whose echoing thunder peals
Loud, as if rushed along the shore
An army's chariot wheels;
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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Upon Eckington Bridge, River Avon
O pastoral heart of England! like a psalm
Of green days telling with a quiet beat-
O wave into the sunset flowing calm!
O tirèd lark descending on the wheat!
Lies it all peace beyond the western fold
Where now the lingering shepherd sees his star
Rise upon Malvern? Paints an Age of Gold
Yon cloud with prophecies of linkèd ease-
Lulling this Land, with hills drawn up like knees,
To drowse beside her implements of war?
Man shall outlast his battles. They have swept
Avon from Naseby Field to Savern Ham;
And Evesham's dedicated stones have stepp'd
Down to the dust with Montfort's oriflamme.
Nor the red tear nor the reflected tower
Abides; but yet these elegant grooves remain,
Worn in the sandstone parapet hour by hour
By labouring bargemen where they shifted ropes;
E'en so shall men turn back from violent hopes
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poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Ask, Seek, Knock
I sank in my quicksand life of confusion,
Had knowledge and learning, had a degree,
Engulfed in theology and false religion
But I did not have spiritual eyes that see.
So much learning will never fill the space
In the human heart that's reserved for God
For only His Truth and His loving Grace
Had set me free from the limbo I had.
Moses said 'His Words are not just idle words'
For 'They are spirit and they are life'
The beginning of Wisdom and Truth accord
An active living sword, sharper than a knife.
'Ask and you shall receive' This I have done.
'Seek and you will find, ' and Truth had set me free,
'Knock and it will opened unto you, ' change had begun,
This seeker found in Christ full victory!
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Amazing GOD!
I know how it is to be lost
Rejected, scorned and abused.
I know the feeling and the cost
Of being unloved, cheated and used.
The hidden wounds, they always bleed
The angry words... they keep returning.
And through the years they all seemed healed
Those emotional scars just keep on hurting.
I used to hide under my bed.
My tears would dry as I fall asleep.
The fear and pain go through my head
And there's no one there to whom I can weep.
In anguished cry I called His name -'Jesus! '
No other word, not a scream for help.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Wings
DAWN opes her pensive eyes,
In the yet starry skies,
A roseate blush upon her cheek and brows.
Her purple mantle still
Lies on the sky-kissed hill,
And a blue, solemn shade thereon it throws.
The earth lies hushed and calm.
No chant of praise, no psalm
Riseth to greet the rose-crowned queen of day.
Each blade of grass, each leaf,
Stands out in sharp relief,
Against the rayless blue and silver gray.
All nature seems to wait
For some new deed of Fate;
The silence is a sacred, reverent prayer,—
When hark! from some sweet throat
One thrilling, quivering note
Fills with its tremulous music all the air.
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poem by Emma Lazarus
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Whispered Assurance
Lord, You are my Hiding Place
In this remote cave of solitude,
As my soul gropes in empty space,
And I thirst for inner fortitude.
Like Elijah, I am in hiding,
And I fear the howling winds of life,
The violent earthquake of losing
That shatters my hopes like a knife.
In the strong winds, You are not there
Neither are You in the fierce earthquake,
But You come in a quiet whisper,
With loving care, my soul You take.
You cradle me with Your assurance
Like a newborn in his mother's arms,
'My child, there will be no circumstance
I will ever leave you to Harm.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Exquisite Sun-day
exquisite sun-day
clear as the sky that blues over my head
rays of the rising sun emitting on my skin, but not red
said i’d rather stand than sit
walk on my feet
like a black talon
on a donkey wagon
simple but random
sitting on a rock-stone
as if i narrated from the “cemetery of the mind”
….sigh!
one such piece of art detained my thought
….it read in part “when love’s perished”
picked a pen and a sketching pad
on my lap i wrote not about sadness nor happiness
neither were it fiction or true story
needless to say, i saw a kori
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poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Holy Spirit Power
Always learning but never knowing
The things they so often say,
Having form but not empowering-
The Spirit absent when they pray.
You see the Substance of the Word
Is not just idle words we send,
It has the Power of the Lord
Cutting through the hearts of men.
Without the Presence of the Savior,
In the hearts of those who study,
There is no Guide in all their labor,
Their search for Truth will be so empty.
Voluminous words won't touch another
But space and time it will occupy.
For only God bestows His Power
On a man's word, devoid of lies.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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