LDSarchivesPOETRY

God Knows

2010-04-06T08:06:00.001-07:00

God Knows...

When you are tired and discouraged from fruitless
efforts... God knows how hard you have tried.

When you've cried so long and your heart is in
anguish... God has counted your tears.

If you feel that your life is on hold and time has
passed you by... God is waiting with you.

When you think you've tried everything and don't
know where to turn... God has a solution.

When nothing makes sense and you are confused or
frustrated... God has the answer.

If suddenly your outlook is brighter and you find
traces of hope... God has whispered to you.

When things are going well and you have much to be
thankful for... God has blessed you.

When something joyful happens and you are filled
with awe... God has smiled upon you.

When you have a purpose to fulfill and a dream to
follow... God has opened your eyes and called you
by name.

Remember that wherever you are or whatever you are
facing... GOD KNOWS

By: Kelly D. Caron

Pilgrims on a Journey

2009-01-31T11:21:00.002-08:00

(we sang this poem in Woman's Chorus this semester)

We are pilgrims on a journey
And companions on the road;
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you,
Speak the peace you *long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping,
When you laugh I'll laugh with you;
I will share your joy and sorrow
'Til we've seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven
We shall find such harmony,
Born of all we've known together
Of Christ's love and agony.

Sister/Brother let me be your servant,
Let me be as Christ to you;
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant too.
-Richard Gillard

*the original word at this part was want, but we changed it to long
At the sister/brother, we sang sister because it is Woman's Chorus, but both can be applied because the poem applies to both genders.

Who Shall Deliver Me?

2009-01-25T13:15:00.000-08:00

Who Shall Deliver Me?

God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out,
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about

I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Earth runs apace.

If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves fore ease, and rest, and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me,
Break off the yoke and set me free.

-Christina Rossetti

The Race

2009-01-21T12:39:00.000-08:00

THE RACE
Life’s Greatest Lesson
From the book by Dee Groberg

“Quit! Give up. You’re beaten!”
They shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now,
This time you can’t succeed."

And as I start to hang my head
In front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by
The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene;
For just the thought of that short race
Rejuvenates my being.

A children’s race—young boys, young men—
How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear;
It wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope;
Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side
Each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went,
Young hearts and hopes afire,
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular,
Whose dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My dad will be so proud!”

But as they sped down the field
Across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and s l I p p e d.

Trying hard to catch himself,
His hands flew out to brace,
But mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope
He couldn’t win it now –
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up.
And showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said,
“Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done,
Behind a bit, that’s all –
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself
To catch up and to win –
His mind went faster than his legs;
He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before,
With only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now;
I shouldn’t try to race.”

But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face;
That steady look which said again:
“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last –
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought.
“I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently
A tear dropped from his eye –
There’s no sense running anymore;
Three strikes: I’m out! Why try!”

The will to rise had disappeared;
All hope had fled away;
So far behind, so error prone;
A loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought,
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low.
“Get up and take your place;
You were not meant for failure here.
Get up and win the race.”

“With borrowed will get up,” it said,
“You haven’t lost at all.
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more,
And with a new commit
He resolved that WIN OR LOSE
At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now,
The most he’d ever been –
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
Three times he rose again;
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner,
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy;
No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last,
With head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,
“I didn’t do too well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said,
“You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.

If Jesus Came to Your House

2008-11-02T18:01:00.000-08:00

If Jesus came to your house to spend a day or two,
If He came unexpectedly, I wonder what you'd do.
Oh, I know you'd give your nicest room to such an honored guest,
And all the food you'd serve to Him would be the very best.
And you would keep assuring Him you're glad to have Him there,
That serving Him in your home is joy beyond compare.
But, when you saw Him coming, would you meet Him at the door
With arms outstretched in welcome to your heavenly visitor?
Or would you have to change your clothes before you let Him in,
Or hide some magazines and put the Bible where they'd been?
Would you turn off the radio and hope He hadn't heard,
And wish you hadn't uttered that last, loud, hasty word?
Would you hide your worldly music and put some hymn books out?
Could you let Jesus walk right in, or would you rush about?
And I wonder, if the Savior spent a day or two with you,
Would you go right on doing the things you always do?
Would you go right on saying the things you always say?
Would life for you continue as it does from day to day?
Would your family conversation keep up its usual pace,
And would you find it hard each meal to say a table grace?
Would you sing the songs you always sing and read the books you read?
And let Him know the things on which your mind and spirit feed?
Would you take Jesus with you everywhere you planned to go?
Or would you, maybe, change your plans for just a day or so.
Would you be glad to have Him meet your very closest friends,
Or would you hope they'd stay away until His visit ends?
Would you be glad to have Him stay forever on and on,
Or would you sigh with great relief when He at last was gone?
It might be interesting to know the things that you would do,
If Jesus came in person to spend some time with you.

Giving

2008-10-19T17:33:00.000-07:00

"Go spread to the needy, sweet charity bread,
For giving is living," the angel said;
"Oh, must I be giving again and again?"
My peevish and willful answer ran.
"Oh, no," said the angel, piercing me through,
"Just give til the Lord stops giving to you."

I'll Go If You Want Me To

2008-10-06T20:03:00.000-07:00

You never said it would be easy...
Artist - Ginny Owens

The pathway is broken
And the signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

No I'm not who I was
When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet
So if all of these trials bring me closer to You
Then I will go through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When You lead me through a world that's not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I'll never go alone

So when the whole world turns against me
And I'm all by myself
And I can't hear You answer my cries for help
I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I will go through the darkness
If You want me to

When I cross over Jordan, I'm gonna sing, gonna shout
Gonna look into your eyes and see you never let me down
So take me on the pathway that leads me home to you
And I will walk through the valley if you want me to

Yes, I will walk through the valley if you want me to

IF I KNEW

2008-09-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

This is a poem someone wrote after their loved one was killed in a plane crash. I can't remember where I got it, but I liked it...

If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you fall asleep
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time
That I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.

If I knew it would be the last time
I'd here your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word
So I could play them back day after day.

If I knew it would be the last time
I could spare an extra minute,
To stop and say "I LOVE YOU"
Instead of assuming you would know I do.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
So I can let just this one slip away.

For surely there's always tomorrow
To make up for an oversight,
And we always get a second chance
To make everything just right.

There will always be another day To say "I love you",
And certainly there's another chance to say our "anything I can do?"

But just in case I might be wrong And today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
And I hope we never forget.

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
Young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance,
You get to hold your loved one tight.

So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
Why not do it today?

For if tomorrow never comes,
You'll surely regret the day
That you didn't take extra time For a smile, a hug, or a kiss
And you were too busy to grant someone,
What turned out to be their one last wish.

So hold your loved ones close today
And whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
And that you'll always hold them dear.

Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "Thank You," or "It's OK"
And if tomorrow never comes, You'll have no regrets about today.

Hold On, from the Secret Garden

2008-09-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

When you see the storm is coming,
See the lightning part the skies,
It's too late to run-
There's terror in your eyes!
What you do then is remember
This old thing you heard me say:
"It's the storm, not you,
That's bound to blow away."

Hold on,
Hold on to someone standing by.
Hold on.
Don't even ask how long or why!
Child, hold on to what you know is true,
Hold on 'til you get through.
Child, oh child!
Hold on!

When you feel your heart is poundin',
Fear a devil's at your door.
There's no place to hide-
You're frozen to the floor!
What you do then is you force yourself
To wake up, and you say:
"It's this dream, not me,
that's bound to go away."

Hold on,
Hold on, the night will soon be by.
Hold on,
Until there's nothing left to try.
Child, hold on, There's angels on their way!
Hold on and hear them say,
"Child, oh child!"

And it doesn't even matter
If the danger and the doom
Come from up above or down below,
Or just come flying
At you from across the room!

When you see a man who's raging,
And he's jealous and he fears
That you've walked through walls
He's hid behind for years.
What you do then is you tell yourself to wait it out
And say it's this day, not me,
That's bound to go away.

Child, oh hold on.
It's this day, not you,
That's bound to go away!

The Touch of the Masters Hand

2008-09-17T12:58:00.001-07:00

‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bid, good friends?” he cried.
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?

One dollar! Only one? And who will make it two?
Two dollars, once, And Three!
Three dollars, once. And three dollars, twice,
And going, and going,” But no

From the back of the room a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow.
And wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As caroling angels sing.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, “What am I bid for the old violin?”
As he held up the bow.

“One thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand dollars, and three!
Three thousand, once. And three thousand, twice.
And going, going and gone!” Said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We don’t quite understand
what changed it’s worth.” Swift came the reply.
‘twas the touch of the master’s hand.

And many a man with life out of tune
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like this old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine.
A game and he travels on.
He’s going once, and going twice.
And going, and almost gone.

But the Master comes, and the thoughtless crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

--Myra Brooks Welch

Eyes of a Child

2008-09-10T19:34:00.000-07:00

When I see a puddle,
I think of the dirtiness,
and step around potential mess.

When my child sees a puddle,
they think of the fun,
and splash in the rain's production.

When I cannot see while driving,
for the sun's glare was strong,
I get irritated at the sun.

When my child sees the sun,
they look out the window,
and show me everything they can now see.

When a car cuts me off,
I slam on the brakes,
thinking bad thoughts of the driver.

But when I slam on brakes,
my child says 'thanks',
thanks for the seatbelt's protection.

When our house was infested,
there were bees all over,
and I feared those small little stingers.

When my child saw the bees,
they were curious to behold,
God's little creation with wings.

When bedtime finally came,
my child wanted a story,
but I was way too tired.

When my child saw me,
they wanted a story,
just so they could be with me.

I couldn't resist,
after all my child had taught me,
a little at a time.

So there is a difference,
between negative and positive,
in a child's view and an adult's perception.

--written by R, 9/10/08

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

2008-09-10T19:33:00.000-07:00

Note: This is Ian's favorite poem of all time.

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

---William Butler Yeats