-
Strike Not Back Again
Poet: James Henry Thomas
We are very often treated
With contempt and scorn;
But if right, we're not defeated,
Though much must be borne.
When mistreated by the world,
And tempted to sin;
When upon us wrong is hurled,
Strike not back again.
Keep on standing, keep on standing,
Firmly, true and strong;
Keep on standing, and demanding
Right instead of wrong.
Men will strike to get up a contest,
But you will be sure to win.
If for right you will stand in the conquest,
And strike not back again.
Godliness has won the greatest
Battles of the world.
Christian men must stand the tempest,
With their flags unfurled;
When the world strikes you with vigor.
Through her worldly men.
Let us stand with godly rigor.
But strike not back again.
Learn a lesson from the Savior,
Who stood buffs and scorns.
And accused of misbehavior,
Wore a crown of thorns.
Though they cursed Him, though they struck Him,
But the world to win,
He prayed for them, never hurt them;
Struck He not back again.
Yes, the world hates Christian workers;
Against Christ it stands.
And with hypocrites and shirkers,
Forms the striking bands.
And they strike with aims to scatter
All the godly men.
Let them strike, it does not matter,
Strike not back again. -
Habit
Poet: James Henry Thomas
Habit is like a parasite;
It saps the strength away
From those who have become its slave,
And serve it day by day.
A contagion of the worst kind;
A dreadful, poisonous germ,
With deathlike grip it takes a hold,
To serve a life-long term.
It gathers strength at our expense,
It's bills we have to pay,
Till our weak frame, destroyed and wrecked,
Lies breathless in the clay.
Habit will make you pay a price
Astonishingly high,
With interest at a per cent
That doubles, by and by.
Do not in you a habit form
Because it seems to please;
For ere long you will be debased
By it, and long for ease.
Just place this sign upon your mind
"No admission to you,
Bad Habit, for your way is dark,
And painful, and untrue."
Then keep the door closed against it,
Don't listen to its plea,
And if you will not to it heed,
You'll enjoy liberty. -
Somewhere
Poet: James Henry Thomas
Somewhere the world is dark because no brilliant rays are shining,
Some dreary land is gloomy because hearts are sore and pining;
With the dark and gloomy seasons souls are tuned in harmony,
And the countenance is robed in garments of solemnity.
Still somewhere the sun is sending forth great rays of brilliant light
Illuminating souls that once were filled with dreadful night;
And in each chamber of the heart his brilliancy is spreading,
And golden sheens and glittering beams within the soul he's shedding.
Somewhere on life's tempestuous sea some one with awe is crying;
Great streams of tears are flowing free from those who're sad and sighing.
Like seas whose ruffled bosoms are inflamed by winds intruding,
Are some poor souls who're struggling now against vile sin's deluding.
And yet, somewhere the seas are calm o'er which some ship is sailing;
Some bosom's resting peacefully, no sighing neither wailing.
Nor tortured hearts nor gushing tears to break the soothing calmness;
No dashing waves nor swelling tides; the winds are still and harmless.
Somewhere some sin is being concealed in some heart for safe keeping,
But at some time and at some place this sin will bring forth weeping.
Some mind is drifting far away to regions of distraction.
By trying to explore that realm which some call satisfaction.
Still somewhere there're hearts divine that do not think of pining —
Great hearts that have their trust in God and not always a'whining
Because their skies seem always darkened by black clouds distressful;
They strive to keep the clouds away until they are successful. -
My Request
Poet: James Henry Thomas
Don't stand around me when I'm dead,
With a deceitful tear,
Nor a sad look, and hung down head,
An angel to appear.
But come around me while I live.
And when I am distressed.
Then comfort me with what I need
For this is my request.
Don't pile up flowers on my grave
When I am dead and gone;
But all this time and money save
To help the gospel on.
But if some kind act you would show
To me while I'm alive,
Now your sweet flowers you may throw,
To my spirit revive.
Yes, give them now, oh give them now,
When I deserve them most;
Yes; give them now, before I join
That great angelic host.
Don't wait until I'm in my grave
To sum up my mistakes,
Because when told of yours, you rave
And great confusion make.
But tell me of mine while I live.
And watch yourself and yours,
Before to me your advice give,
And my mistakes expose.
Oh don't expose, do not expose,
Brother, do not expose.
Before to me your advice give,
Correct yourself and yours.
You have your faults and I have mine;
They may not be the same.
To expose mine and cover thine
Gives you no better name.
Say what you will and have no fear;
Don't wait till I am gone;
If it will help me, let me hear —
To hold it back is wrong. -
Love's Requisite
Poet: James Henry Thomas
To get the essence of true love
And to its sweetness hold,
We must bear all the pains it gives;
To be shaped in its mold.
True love requires great sacrifice
For its devotions true;
It conquers every mortars heart
With happiness in view.
Only a few will undergo
Love's rigid requisites;
To taste the healthful fruits it bears
And all its benefits.
Love cares not for the gay costumes,
In such no heart can trust;
It spurns and scorns the finest dressed,
Who fan the flames of lust.
Those dreamy eyes and glowing cheeks
Are forces hard to shun;
But these will quickly fade away
Before a trying sun.
So many hearts are bleeding now,
And cheeks are pale and thin,
Because deception with its fangs
Of poison, works within.
Love is a flame that must be fed
With kindness from the start;
And every day add little more
To soothe the wanting heart.
It has a craving appetite,
That cannot be sufficed
By food unpleasant to the taste,
No matter how enticed.
It wanders lonely through the world,
Seeking with care to see
If this or that is its ideal,
And asking, 'Is it he?''
And when discouraged in the search,
It takes a substitute;
But this will only last until
The one comes that will suit.
No power on earth, nor aught but death,
Can keep' two souls apart.
Who are determined to unite
To satisfy the heart. -
A Poem Of Retribution
Poet: James Henry Thomas
Have you watched the results of a thrown rubber ball.
How quickly it rebounds when it strkes a stone wall?
Just so hard as you throw it, so it will return;
It teaches a lesson that we all should learn.
So a bad deed when done with an evil intent,
Comes back again to us without our consent.
It comes at a time when we're prosperous and gay,
And stops our progress without a delay.
We hide the bad deeds when we bury them deep,
But they rise up again, and right straight at us peep;
We are fearful, astonished, when these deeds condemn
Us, by bursting upon us with power and vim.
We then tell a lie to demolish this plant.
And try to destroy it forever, but can't.
We sever it 'way to some depth in the ground.
But the roots from which it came are solid and sound.
And when we are dead and in graves are hurled,
These deeds will spring upward, and show to the world
What we did in the dark, and then tried to keep hid.
But God, in his providence, lifted the lid.
You may plant your bad deeds in the day or by night,
And try to conceal them in darkness from light;
But as sure as the sun keeps his course to the west,
These deeds will confront you and put you to test.
So let us not sow any acts of discord,
But when we are tempted converse with the Lord,
Don't rush with a passion and lose self-control,
For we in this way may endanger the soul.
More Christian Poems
More Poems of Encouragement
More Poems About Life
More Friendship Poems
More Short Love Poems
More Inspirational Poems