The Empty Pew
Poet: Jason Kirk BartleyHave we become numb?
Have we fallen asleep?
The signs are all around us,
We're playing for keeps.
Our comfort zones keep us from going abroad.
Fear of the unknown sometimes keeps us from pleasing our God.
Urgency demands us to open the church doors,
with the gospel message of Jesus,
We sit at our church with empty pews,
While the time draws nigh,
prophecy is in the news,
while some soul goes to meet their maker.
Did we give it our all to bring them within?
to help,
to save,
From their wretchedness of sin.
Did we help them meet Jesus?
That's what we do!
Did we do all we could to help fill that empty Pew?
Some Go To Church To ...
Poet: Job ElletsonSome go to church to take a walk,
Some go there to laugh and talk.
Some go to church for observation,
But some go there for speculation.
Some go there to meet a lover.
And some go there a fault to cover.
Some go there to meet a friend,
And some go there their time to spend.
Some go there to sing a sonnet.
But some go there to show their bonnet.
Some go to church oppressed with grief.
Some go there to find relief.
Some go to hear a grand oration,
Some go to glorify the nation.
Some go to hear about the war.
Some go to show how good they are.
Some go repentant and repenting,
But some go hardened, unrelenting.
Some go to praise, to pray and weep.
But some go there to lounge and sleep.
Some go to better their condition,
Some go to gain a good commission.
While some go there to doze and nod.
There's many go to worship God.
A Grounding Place
Poet: Catherine PulsiferIn the stillness of the pews, hearts find solace,
A refuge from life's tumultuous flow.
Church stands as an anchor, a blessed grace,
Where souls seek respite and God's presence know.
For within these walls, whispers of peace thrive,
Melodies of faith whispering through souls.
A sanctuary where weary spirits revive,
Church binds us close to our purposeful goals.
From Sunday's embrace to each week anew,
Church, a grounding place guiding us through.
Spiritual Poems
No Perfect People
Poet: Catherine PulsiferA church is not the place
For perfect people to go,
It is a place for sinners
Seeking insight and woe.
Forgiveness hangs in the air
With Heaven's sweet scent,
We plead and pray for mercy
Asking him never to relent.
The sound of hymns and praises
Lifts up to heaven's throne,
Where our souls are cleansed
From sins that atone.
Peace and guidance await
Those who pray with humble heart,
At church we call upon God
Who never leaves us or parts.
Four-Wall Christians
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 1994Four-wall Christians, safe in our way;
Make little impact if all we do is pray.
We may share our dollars, the few we may not need,
And call it generous giving, but God will call it greed.
We think not of our neighbour, or pain in other lands,
We have to make a living, achieve our goals and plans.
We go to church each Sunday, like Christians ought to do,
But after every service, we haven't changed our view.
We live so isolated, so far from hurt and pain;
We stifle our own conscience time and time again.
But what if a "RWANDA" should happen in our land?
And we should feel that heartache, and need that helping hand?
Would we think that a Christian, who had the means and power
Should send relief and comfort in our most desperate hour?
If mortar shells were falling and bombs dropped everywhere,
Would we want other Christians to just kneel down in prayer?
I'd think we'd want assistance, involvement and concern,
With no thought of repayment or favours to return.
Not just a token offering, not just a passing glance,
But genuine love and caring; a new start, a new chance.
If we want that from others, we ought to give the same,
Not out of sheer compulsion, but give in Jesus' name.
Don't be a "four -wall" Christian who doesn't get involved,
Who gives a meagre dollar and prays that wars are solved.
Become a burden-bearer, become a caring friend,
Stretch forth your hand in mercy, just let your life be spent.
The things that are important are what God gives to you,
And how you use that talent that makes His message true.
You cannot take it with you, you've heard that line before,
But souls won for God's glory will share that heavenly shore.
Come To Church
Poet: Guy HootmanCome to the church,
To the little white church;
Good sermons you'll hear,
And God will seem near
As you praise Him and pray
In an old fashioned way
In the plain little church in the valley.
Come to the church,
To the little white church;
A welcome receive
From those who believe
That Christ is the Lord
As we read in His word
In the little plain church in the valley.
Praise God Poems
God Bless All Churches
Poet: Caleb Davis BradleeWe have but one Leader, Christ Jesus, the Lord,
We'll join in his praises with gracious accord;
May all Churches love the one Guide to proclaim,
And write on their banners the Saviour's blest name.
With Jesus as Leader, Defender, and Guide,
The other great doctrines we will not decide;
But we'll leave to each Church its own special plea,
And each one shall speak it as each one shall see.
We'll all look to Heaven as a right blessed home,
We'll all do our best whilst on earth we shall roam;
We'll love one another forever and aye;
And "God bless all Churches" we daily will pray.
The Bride Of Christ
Poet: Clara M. BrooksO church of God, thou spotless bride,
On Jesus' breast secure!
No stains of sin in thee abide;
Thy garments all are pure.
Of unity and holiness
Thy gentle voice doth sing;
Of purity and lowliness
Thy songs in triumph ring.
Thou lovely virgin, thou art fair,
Thy mother's only child.
Thy heavenly music let me hear;
Thy voice is sweet and mild.
Thy cheeks adorned with jewels bright,
Thy neck with chains of gold;
Unfurl thy banners in thy might,
Thy graces rich unfold.
She stood attired in spotless dress
The early morning through,
And then into the wilderness
On eagle's wings she flew;
And, nourished there from heavenly clime.
She lived for many years;
Now in this blessed evening time
Her glory reappears.
She leans upon an arm of love:
No sin her garments taints;
They're made of linen woven above -
The righteousness of saints.
The marriage of the Lamb is come;
His bride all ready stands;
The Bridegroom soon will take her home
To dwell in heavenly lands.
Christian Poems Of Hope
The Church Triumphant
Poet: Daniel S. WarnerMen speak of a "church triumphant"
As something on earth unknown;
They think us beneath the tyrant
Until we shall reach our home.
Oh! can not the great Redeemer
Prevail over Satan here?
Or must we remain yet under
Confusion, pressed down in fear?
He built on a sure foundation,
And said that the gates of hell
Against her divine munitions
Can never indeed prevail.
Then how can you say, dear people,
You can not be kept each day?
The infinite arm is able;
His word has not passed away.
'Tis not in the church of Jesus
That people yet live in sin,
But in the dark creeds they're joining
And vainly are trusting in.
God's church is alone triumphant,
In holiness all complete,
And all the dark powers of Satan
She tramples beneath her feet.
Thank God for a church triumphant,
All pure in this world below!
For the kingdom that Jesus founded
Does triumph o'er every foe.
Within The Gates
Poet: David W. FoleyI love to step inside a church,
To rest, and think, and pray;
The quiet, calm, and holy place
Can drive all cares away.
I feel that from these simple walls
There breathes a moving sound
Of sacred music, murmured prayers,
Caught in the endless round
Of bygone worship, from the store
The swinging seasons bring —
Gay Christmas pageant, Lenten tears,
And the sweet hallowing
Of all that makes our human life:
Birth, and the union blest
Of couples at the altar wed,
And loved ones laid to rest.
Into my soul this harmony
Has poured, and now is still;
The Lord's own benediction falls
Upon me, as I kneel.
Once more, with lifted head, I go
Out in the jarring mart,
The spring of gladness in my step,
God's peace about my heart.
