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Who Am I To Say
Poet: Grace N Crowell
We come to God by devious ways,
and who am I to say
That the road I take is the only road,
My way, the better way?
All earnest hearts that seek for God
can find Him like a flame,
Down every road, no matter what
his creed, or what his name.
So whether we may pause to pray
where great cathedrals shine,
Or in some little weathered church,
or at some wayside shrine,
The sincere travelers will arrive
where the welcoming home lights shine,
Although the countless thousands
take a different road from mine. -
The Middle Road
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2008
You cannot walk the middle road – it’s either yes or no;
One foot walks the worldly way, a road of certain woe.
A place where rules do not exist, where self seeks full control,
You’re bound to find real hardships in body and in soul.
Don’t channel talents given you by your desire for fame;
To all the things you cherish only God can lay real claim.
Be wary where your feet may read, be slow to grasp the way;
Read all of the instructions well so you won’t go astray.
The world will bring enticement with glittering appeal;
Temptation brings excitement, adventures seem so real.
But underneath lurks evil, the path to sure demise;
The world claims it as wisdom but God claims it all lies.
You’ll reap your soul’s destruction, a road of no return,
If you heed not the warnings and God’s laws clearly spurn.
The Spirit whispers, “Trust in God.” The world rejects the call;
The heart is torn between the two, yet one will cause your fall.
You need to have discernment, you need to count the cost,
The pleasures last a moment but eternity is lost.
God won’t demand submission, He will not force your hand,
You need a willing spirit; you need to understand.
God doesn’t use compulsion – you choose, your own free will;
Is His appeal not stronger? And His love greater still?
Then think of the here-after when life has run its course;
The momentary pleasures cause nothing but remorse.
God’s offer is eternal, the world is false and brief;
With God there is salvation, the world brings only grief.
What is your destination? The choice is yours alone,
A brief lifetime of pleasure or heaven as your own.
The middle road can’t offer the things God has in store;
Repent, accept God’s offer, and live forever more. -
Humility
Poet: John F Zurn, © 2014
The acts of the meek are mostly unknown,
But those who seek praise are rewarded.
The humble work hard and do it for God
While most need the hope of acceptance.
To others, these quiet pilgrims of love
Appear to be simple and backward.
They can’t apprehend these helpers of God
Are living their lives in the Spirit.
But I still embrace my ego and pride
By seeking to push my way forward.
My mind is consumed by winning in life
While giving is tied up with motives.
The blessed of God are servants to all,
But I am a child who stands in the hall. -
One Dust
Poet: Alice Cary
Thou, under Satan's fierce control,
Shall Heaven its final rest bestow?
I know not, but I know a soul
That might have fallen as darkly low.
I judge thee not, what depths of ill
Soe'er thy feet have found, or trod;
I know a spirit and a will
As weak, but for the grace of God.
Shalt thou with full-day laborers stand,
Who hardly canst have pruned one vine?
know not, but I know a hand
With an infirmity like thine.
Shalt thou who hast with scoffers part.
E'er wear the crown the Christian wears?
I know not, but I know a heart
As flinty, but for tears and prayers.
Have mercy, O Thou Crucified!
For even while I name thy name,
I know a tongue that might have lied
Like Peter's, and am bowed with shame.
Fighters of good fights - just, unjust -
The weak who faint, the frail who fall -
Of one blood, of the selfsame dust,
Thou, God of love, hast made them all. -
Don't Doubt God
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2011
I cannot say, “Lord, heal me now;” it may not be His will,
I must learn to hear His word when He says, “Peace, be still.”
Healing doesn’t always come dressed in a body form,
Often it’s just peace of mind, a calming of life’s storm.
It’s not a means of punishment because I’ve gone astray,
As if God means to show His power so He can have His way.
Retaliation does not fit in God’s redemption plan,
His love, so overwhelming, is God’s free gift to man.
The road’s not always easy, there’s often pain to bear,
It might cause us to wonder, “Is God really there?”
But through the pain we listen, it’s then we hear His voice,
Our busyness surrendered; He speaks: “Make Me your choice.”
God does not live in darkness, nor is He unaware
He sees the peril around us, the hurts we do not share.
Consider this: He made us, He formed us from the dust,
We are His sole possession, so why should we not trust?
The valley where we oft repose, the place that we resist,
Is where our faith is fortified, our tears become like mist.
The dew the angels gather, the prayers, the heartfelt pain,
The soul that has grown weary can be revived again.
Perhaps it’s in the valley where spirits are renewed,
That God becomes more precious and hope anew is viewed.
Do not despise the valley, do not take God to task,
Be pleased that He is wiser, there’s answers e’re you ask. -
My Purpose
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2008
Never say “NO” to the testing, question if you feel that you must;
Accept the road that’s before you, it’s honourable and just.
Be wary of the scoffers who try to dissuade your goal,
Who give advice without knowledge but aren’t concerned for your soul.
Testing means growing in spirit, as God gently shows you the way,
Patiently trusting His judgment, hearing His voice every day.
Willingly walk through the valley, placing your faith in His plan.
Fully aware that He loves you – God, the Creator of man!
Valued, made in His image, daily supplying man’s needs,
Letting you walk in the valley, never alone, for He leads.
There may be days you are tempted, when the burden seems far too great,
To think that God cannot hear you, you’re left alone to your fate.
You’ve cried, you’ve begged and you’ve pleaded, you’ve come to the end of your road,
You feel your faith has been shattered, you simply can’t carry your load.
It seems you’re in a dark tunnel, you grope in your fear and distress,
You feel the end is upon you; God calls, “Come to Me, I will bless.
It hurts Me to see you in darkness, I grieved when you felt all alone,
Yet I was continually with you, I heard every cry, every groan.”
“I waited for you to surrender, allowing your will to be Mine,
Letting Me give you directions in every precept and line.
Your life will be blessed in abundance, your faith will be doubly restored,
You need not carry this burden, if I am your God and your Lord.
I’ll daily walk alongside you, I’ll prove your testing worthwhile:
Refined as gold in the fire, your journey was worth every mile.
It made you seek for My comfort, the world had lost its allure,
Now you’ll know where you’re going, the path is steadfast and sure.
Because I too made this journey, and I felt deeply betrayed,
Then I was sustained by My Father and strengthened each time I prayed.
No one finds joy in testing, yet hearts through faith can be won,
That’s what is meant by salvation, the giving of God’s only Son.
Lives are enhanced and enlightened, hearts have commitments and trust,
Surely you see how I love you! My purpose is holy and just. -
Time
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2001
Time is allotted to each one of us – no one “underchanged;”
A child wants to rush into his youth, yet time is not rearranged.
The youth can’t wait till he turns 21, he thinks he can conquer the world,
It seems like forever, those teenage years, nothing has rightly unfurled.
The adult complains, “I haven’t got time! Everyone schedules my day.
There’s a thousand things I need to get done, and so many stops on the way.”
The senior cries, “The days are so long, my life is so useless and sad.
I wish I were young, back on the farm, working with Joe and our lad.”
No one’s content, it’s a world of complaints, from our birth till the day that we die.
Isn’t it strange that we can’t stop a while, to rejoice and not always ask, “Why?”
God has allotted to each man the same – a day of 24 hours.
Some use it wisely, some waste their time; the challenge is finding its power.
To God, a day is a thousand years, it passes as quick as a wink,
He hears what we say, He knows what we do, He constantly knows what we think.
While man plots and plans to lengthen his day, the purpose of time carries on.
Man cannot change what God has decreed – the sun shall rise with the dawn.
So, slow down a mite, smell the roses He grows, remember that God’s in control,
Let time take its course, walk close with your Lord, His love will nurture your soul. -
What Is It?
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2005
It moves but you can’t touch it, it’s fully in control,
The sturdy oak will bow beneath its might.
It burrows in the water, it splashes on the shore,
And in its train, there’s found grief or delight.
Man may use its power but not be in command;
We never know the places it will rest.
It frolics in the meadows, it rustles in the grass,
The leaves will sway beneath its roving jest.
It’s fully independent, it goes where it will please,
No harness can eradicate its force.
It’s known to be gentle, or it may bring great alarm;
It always seems to use its own resource.
Yet, God is still its Master, on land or on the sea,
By His command it moves or lies quite still.
Alike in all creation, its reigns are in His hands,
It has no voice except it be God’s will.
What is it? The wind. Mark 4:41 -
How We Feel
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2005
Joy comes as an offering, an offering from the heart,
Even when discouraged there’s reason to take part.
God demands our service, our life, our love, our all;
Give up the world’s enticements and hear His loving call.
We don’t always render to God what is His due,
To fully be committed in all things just and true.
Joy is not always foremost when struggles crowd our days,
When hearts are filled with turmoil, there’s no desire to praise.
But if we’re in God’s presence (which constantly we are),
We start to count our blessings – more plenteous by far.
We know we have no ailments that God has not allowed,
He knows our heart’s bereavement in which we have now bowed.
But still the joy is seated deep within our life;
We can be the conquerors, have victory over strife.
Sing the songs of mercy though life is hard to bear,
Don’t always go by feelings, don’t live in your despair.
Let the song burst forward and let the music flow,
There is no valley dark and deep where God’s afraid to go.
Although you may be suffering, your body racked with pain,
The sun will shine in future days; there will be hope again.
Don’t let the world discourage you by saying, “Where’s your God now?”
There’s not a moment He’s not near though you might wonder, “How?”
“How can He be beside me and not hear my request?
Why does He not come forward and let my life be blessed?”
I do not have the answer; my faith alone says, “TRUST.”
He is the God of mercy, a loving God and just.
To give you consolation, to let you know we care,
May it ease your burden when we lift you up in prayer. -
To Our Seniors
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 1982
Do you know what lies at the end of the road,
After all these years of bearing your load?
Have you any idea what lies before,
When the days of your youth can hold you no more?
Have you found the rainbow with its pot of gold?
Has your life been fulfilled as your story is told?
Can you earnestly say that it’s all been worthwhile,
As you journeyed through life each mile after mile?
So many of us are inclined to say,
“I wish I had done it some other way.”
But we cannot retrace the steps of our years;
We’re left with the memories, the joys and the tears.
We’re only assured of today and its hour,
The past must be buried like an old, faded flower.
Does your age make you feel you’re a burden to man?
Remember beloved, you’re part of God’s plan.
Though your body be feeble, your hearing impaired,
There’s a good deal of workin this world to be shared.
And though you’re not able to physically strain,
You are still able to share other’s pain.
You can encourage and you can advise,
Your vast store of knowledge that now buried lies.
The lessons you’ve learned in your travel on earth,
To those who are younger, now share of your worth.
Let the beauty of age and the wisdom of time,
Be a joy to your heart and then, share it with mine. -
Questions
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2008
On the long winding road of illness, in the dark closet of your pain;
In the frail shell of your body, you wonder, “Will I ever be well again?”
Is there any good reason for suffering? Does frailty bring some reward?
Is it known to bring understanding? Is it bound to some spiritual cord?
Are those who suffer more holy? Is endurance part of the plan?
Experiencing grief, is that fruitful? Could that be the journey for man?
If I suffer will I be stronger? Is that how my faith will increase?
Will my prayers have deeper meaning? Will it give my soul stronger peace?
My mind is so full of questions, the answers seem so far away;
I seem to stumble in darkness, yet I will continue to pray.
I’m sure that God holds the future, but right now all looks so dark;
I don’t feel inclined to tread further; I fear there’s a definite mark.
I truly would like to be faithful; I pray, “Lord, Thy will be done,”
But humanly speaking, I tremble, “Why have these trials begun?”
I have but one hope – to surrender – let God take my worries and cares,
He is my trust and my comfort; God hears and answers my prayers. -
To Go Or Not To Go
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 1992
In the darkness of nations, the mission words flow,
The call has gone forward – the gospel we must sow.
The good news of Jesus to lighten man’s load,
To turn from sin’s pathway and walk on faith’s road.
The joy of repentance to many a soul,
Who look toward heaven and find a new goal.
It’s not a commission that many prefer,
The world’s great attraction cause men to deter.
Why risk good investments, endanger your life,
When you’re not to blame for another man’s strife?
Besides, are they grateful? DO they want to be told?
And do you have courage? Are you really that bold?
You don’t know their culture, their customs, their ways,
Their lifestyle is different; great problems you’d raise.
They’d have to make changes and plan a new course,
So, how would they do it? Where is the resource?
Why don’t you forget it? Their ignorance is bliss,
If they’ve never known, it’s not something they’ll miss.
You’d cause a disturbance, disrupt all they know,
Do you think they’ll be grateful for this plan that you show?
Don’t bother the heathen; they don’t bother you,
Take my advice son, whatever you do.
“But sir, who will tell them? Who’ll bring them the news?
They ought to be told, it’s their privilege to choose.”
How can we forget them? They’re part of God’s plan,
Christ gave the commission, to tell every man.
I can’t sit at home in my luxury and pride,
And know that the story to them is denied.
I have to do something, no matter the cost;
If I don’t go to tell them, they all might be lost.
There’s no greater privilege then telling someone
Of God’s great salvation, of Jesus, His Son.
I’m going! I have to! The burden is great!
I feel I must witness before it’s too late.
Dear Dad, give me your blessing and grant me Godspeed,
In bringing the message to others in need.
It’s a duty, an honour, a God-given task,
To hand out the good news to all who might ask.
The reason of hope that lies in my soul,
I can tell them because my God’s in control. -
The Pebble Mover
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2009
Thank You for the pebbles that You move for me each day,
Random acts of kindness on Your part.
Making life adjustments in my journey here,
I want to shout, “Oh Lord! How great Thou art!”
I know You can move mountains, You’ve done it many times,
You’ve shouldered burdens that I could not bare.
But these I expected because You do them well,
And in my heart I know You truly care.
It’s things that I can’t handle, the constant irritants,
The problematic issues that arise,
That make me feel despondent, I’m not in full control;
Should I react, or would that be unwise?
Then in a quiet moment God changes things around;
He brings to naught the fears within my soul.
He does it without fanfare, no thunderous applause,
The evidence reveals He’s in control.
It’s not by human effort that these things come about;
The plans were put in process ‘fore my birth;
For God knew all the details, each moment of each day,
He knew how much my peace of mind was worth.
It’s not that it’s essential or that it has to be,
But God displays His acts in tender ways.
When I go through the valley, He gently holds my hand;
His perfect love will guide me all my days. -
Room For Jesus
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2009
Is there any room for Jesus in your busy day?
Have you just a moment you can spare?
Or is your life so active that you set your faith aside,
Are you really certain that you even care?
Are you keeping over busy to serve your own desires?
Have you set your heart to reach a certain goal?
Are you honest with yourself in the way you spend your time?
Are you not a bit concerned about your soul?
There’s much on earth that could destroy the things you like to do,
But you must master every day’s desires.
Thoughts and plans that fill your day can make you overwrought,
Slow your tempo, hear the voice that tenderly inspires.
No earthly plan can be so great that God should be excluded –
Each moment He’s aware of where you are.
He reaches out with tender love, He’s eager for your presence,
But often you have moved away so far.
It’s not that He can’t find you, or guess where you reside;
He follows every step you daily take.
It’s you that is the wandered, too busy to look up;
You can’t blame God when you make a mistake.
So, take a special moment to see how far you’ve come,
Your worldly goods have caused your faith to fail.
It’s time you mend your fences and span the bridge of grace,
And let the wondrous love of God prevail. -
The Splendor Of God's Will
Poet: Frances Ridley Havergal
O words of golden music
Caught from the harps on high,
Which find a glorious anthem
Where we have found a sigh,
And peal their grandest praises
Just where ours faint and die.
O words of holy radiance
Shining on every tear
Till it becomes a rainbow,
Reflecting, bright and clear,
Our Father's love and glory
So wonderful, so dear!
O words of sparkling power,
Of insight full and deep!
Shall they not enter other hearts
In a grand and gladsome sweep,
And lift the lives to songs of joy
That only droop and weep?
And O, it is a splendor,
A glow of majesty,
A mystery of beauty,
If we will only see;
A very cloud of glory
Enfolding you and me.
A splendor that is lighted
At one transcendent flame,
The wondrous love, the perfect love,
Our Father's sweetest name;
For his very name and essence
And his will are all the same.
Spiritual Poems
Praise God Quotes
Poems About God's Love
