68 Christian PoemsChristian poems that will inspire and encourage you and strengthen your faith. Poems packed full of verses that are inspirational, encouraging and praiseworthy. Verses that celebrate The Almighty God and His Son Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. These Christian poems are full of verses that speak of God and are full of abundant praise.
Poet: C D. Bradlee
My God knows best! through ail my days
This is my comfort and my rest,
My trust, my peace, my solemn praise,
That God knows all, and God knows best.
My God knows best ! That is my chart;
This thought to me is always blest;
It hallows and it soothes my heart,
For all is well, and God knows best.
My God knows best! then tears may fall;
In his great heart I'll find my nest;
For he, my God, is over all,
And he is love, and he knows best.
Poet: Annie Johnston Flint
Christ has no hands hut our hands
To do his work today;
He has no feet but our feet
To lead men in His way;
He has no tongue but our tongues
To tell men how he died;
He has no help but our help
To bring them to his side.
We are the only Bible
The careless world will read;
We are the sinner’s gospel,
We are the scoffer’s creed;
We are the Lord’s last message
Given in deed and word—
What if the line is crooked?
What if the type is blurred?
What if our hands are busy
With other work than his?
What if our feet are walking
Where sin’s allurement is?
What if our tongues are speaking
Of things his lips would spurn?
How can we hope to help him
Unless from him we learn?
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy
When I daily look up,
And never look down,
I find that my cup
Is filled to the crown;
Whatever is wanted
Into my breast flows;
'Tis when the heart's lifted,
God kindly bestows.
When I grovel in dust,
And murmur and fret,
How few and how meagre
The blessings I get!
'Tis only when upward
I prayerfully turn,
That favors are granted,
And wisdom I learn.
Poet: David V. Bush
The bridges that I've often crossed
Before they came in sight,
Have been of many, many kinds;
Been grey, or black, or white.
I fancied many brutish ones,
And many could not name;
I 've had my many troubles, but
The worst ones never came!
When squirrels get their nuts for food.
They gather for a year,
And do not worry 'bout the next,
For that they have no fear,
But man is not content today,
He lives with troubled aim;
A-thinking 'bout the troubles past.
And those which never came!
Some people build their mounts of care
Of many sorts and kind.
Which like the bridges that they build.
Are mostly in their mind.
Though sun's ablaze and sky is clear,
They think of lightning's flame.
They had their many troubles, but
The worst ones never came!
Now God is in the universe.
The birds and squirrels know,
They worry not, nor do they fret.
For what we reap we sow,
If we sow deeds they'll bear their fruit.
For God will hear our claim;
If we trust Him then we can say.
The worst ones never came!
Poet: Maria J Dodge
In every waving blade of grass,
In every little flower.
That daily in my walks I pass,
I see God's wondrous power.
And every tiny drop of rain
Which falls in gentle shower,
And then in mist ascends again.
Tells of His wondrous power.
The little birds that gaily trill
Their songs in morning hour,
And all the air with music fill.
Sing of His wondrous power.
Poet: Lucy Larcom
Jesus, Saviour, Friend most dear!
Dwell thou with us daily here!
By Thine own life teach us this —
How divine the human is!
One with God, as heart with heart,
Saviour, lift us where Thou art!
Join us to His life, through Thine,
Human still, though all divine!
O Love, O Friend, Thy name is God!
Lord of the unseen and the known!
Thy thoughts the universe have trod,
With worlds like sands of silver strewn.
Lead us through these bewildering ways
Of pain and beauty thou hast trod!
Thou art our creed, our prayer, our praise,
O Christ, Thou human heart of God!
Poet: Marie B. Williams
The limit of life is brief;
'Tis the red in the red rose leaf;
'Tis the gold in the sunset sky;
'Tis the flight of a bird on high.
Yet we may fill the space
With such an infinite grace
That the red will be in all time,
And the gold through the ages shine.
And the bird fly swift and straight
To the lilies of God's own gate.
Poet: John F Zurn, ©2019
Life has mostly simple moments
Like the rising sun each day.
The times of truly great excitement
Seem like clouds that drift away.
Plans and memories are tainted
With the hopes and fears of thought.
When the many dreams have faded,
The only peace begins with God.
Then in the moments by the river,
Or walking through a crowded mall,
Simple thoughts of God can linger,
And nothing else exists but God.
In this moment thoughts have ended,
And the spirit fills my heart.
Then the peace of being present
Overwhelms my inner talk.
But just for a short pause only
Does the fleeting moment last.
My eager mind returns and slowly
Thinking fuels by selfishness.
Yet in these quiet simple moments,
My heart perceives that God is near,
Without the rush to trust emotions,
My Iife becomes a simple prayer.
by M. G. Plantz
God answers prayer; sometimes
When hearts are weak.
He gives the very gifts believers seek.
But often faith must learn a deeper rest;
And trust God's silence, when He
Does not speak;
For he whose name is Love
Will send the best;
Stars may burn out nor mountain
But God is true; His promises are sure
To those who seek.
by Lillian E. Curtis
It may seem hard to say sometimes,
When trials and troubles come,
But then is it not a consolation, to say,
"Father, thy will be done?"
Even when affliction comes
And He takes away some loved one,
Is it not a comfort, to say,
"Thy will 0, God, be done?"
Though the clouds are dark around us,
And our pathway drear and lone,
Oh! is it not sweet to say
"Father in heaven, thy will be done?"
When joy, pleasure and happiness,
Profusely to us come.
We are not slow to say.
"Father, thy will be done."
Still it is the same kind Father,
That sends of joy some, of sorrow some,
And ought we not always say,
"Father, thy will be done?"
by Alfred Bem
I'm nowhere lost and everywhere I am at home,
My God is nature, my church is the immense blue dome,
And my religion is goodness attached to no other name,
All mankind, whatever creed or color, to me are dear the same
Admiring everything that's beautiful and loving all that's true,
I do believe in every thought that turns this world to greatness, new.
Poet: Mary C. Plummer
Why look so sad, old earth?
Your clouds are hanging low,
You look as though you're going to weep.
What has disturbed you so?
Oh, yes I plainly understand,
Your hidden secret I know,
You're wondering if the selfish folk
Would be pleased with rain or snow.
Now do not ponder quite so deep.
But make your worry less;
Remember that 'tis God above
Who sends down what is best.
Poet: Hugh Owen Meredith
For every minute of my day
To God the praise be said,
For daily walk, for daily talk,
For daily beef and bread !
More than for all His other works
I praise Him in my bed
For this delight of closing night,
My golden drowsihed.
by Julia A. Baker
I cannot find a truer word
Nor fonder to caress you;
Nor song of poem I have heard
Is sweeter than "God bless you!"
God bless you! so I breathe a charm
Lest Grief's dark night oppress you.
Then how can Sorrow bring you harm
If 'tis God's way to bless you.
And so, not "All thy days be fair,
And shadows touch thee never,"
But this alone — God bless you, dear!
So thou art safe forever.
There's lot o' music in 'em, the hymns of long ago,
An' when some gray-haired brother sings the ones I used to know,
I sorter want to take a hand — I think o' days gone by,
On Jordan's stormy banks I stand and cast a wistful eye.
There's lots of music in 'em — those dear, sweet hymns of old,
With visions bright of lands of light and shining streets of gold;
And I hear 'em ringing — singing, where Mem'ry dreaming stands,
"'From Greenland's icy mountains to India's .coral strands."
They seem to sing forever of holier, sweeter days,
When the lilies of the love of God bloomed white in all the ways;
And I want to hear their music from the old-time meetin's rise.
Till 'I can read my title clear to mansions in the skies."
We never needed singin' books in them old days; we knew
The words — the tunes of every one the dear old hymn book through!
We didn't have no trumpets then — no organs built for show;
We only sang to praise the Lord "from whom all blessings flow."
An' so I love the old hymns, and when my time shall come —
Before the light has left me and my singing lips are dumb —
If I can only hear 'em then, I'll pass without a sigh
To Canaan's fair and happy land, where my possessions lie!
by Mary C. Ryan
O God! how can it ever be,
That I Thy glorious face can see,
Be cleansed from sin by Thy Son's blood,
Which for man's sins so freely flowed?
That when Thou comest with Thy band
Of mighty angels fair and grand.
To make Thy jewels up for Thee,
That Thou wilt then remember me?
But, ah! how can I ever be
A jewel bright and glow for Thee,
And live with Thee in that fair land.
And with Thy hosts of angels stand?
For now I am so vile and weak.
But trembling, lone. Thy ways I seek.
Thy blood to cleanse. Thy love to guide,
And lead me to my Saviour's side.
Poet: Henry Reed Conant
We know that we’re stubborn and willful,
And tho’ we have kindly been shown
The true way, which God has appointed,
We often go on in our own.
And thus we go on in the darkness,
Groping our way thro’ the night;
Unmindful ofttimes of His goodness,
And missing His glorious light.
But still He looks down with compassion,
And e’en thro’ life’s greatest alarms
We’re sheltered and safely protected,
As weak little lambs in His arms.
Could we but have more of His goodness
Implanted each day in our heart,
Perhaps there are others about us
Who’d feel the rich joy we’d impart.
Could our love, every day, be to others
As the love from our Maker above,
O what a grand army of brothers
Would be banded together in love!
Poet: J. McLeod, © 1981
High above the hills and dales
A white dove soars, a seagull sails
A skylark sings from altitude
Unseen, but heard below where good
And ill so often fight it out
Instilling fear, unrest and doubt
That darkens vision to confuse
So much to gain, so much to lose!
And here below I cannot fly
To be with them in azure sky
My heart cries out for freedom's way
Above the clouds of violent grey
To where in tune with skylark's song
Dismissed is pain and sufferings wrong
With seagull and with gentle dove
At one with God
In Peace and Love
by John Greenleaf Whittier
We search the world for truth, we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From graven stone and written scroll,
And all old flower-fields of the soul;
And, weary seekers of the best,
We come back laden from our quest,
To find that all the sages said
Is in the Book our mothers read.
by Mary C. Plummer
'Tis evening tide, and chirping birds
To their snug little nests are flying;
'Tis evening tide, and the Master calls
To sinful souls still dying.
'Tis evening tide, and wearied workers
Homeward tread so wearily;
Hark! I hear one softly singing:
Lord, in Thy mercy, shelter me.
We hope you have found faith, hope, and love in these Christian poems. Poems are written by many different Christian Poets but all expressing a love of God and a Christian heart. Please feel free to share these uplifting poems with others.
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