Posts Tagged With: poem

Loved Me Thus

Foolishly I disaffected the law of the Most High
By exalting self-sufficiency and basking in my pride.
And yet you saved me from your wrath when I was truly lost;
Almighty, holy, righteous God, you have loved me thus:
You gave your own eternal son to die upon the cross,
By grace–repentance and my faith–your perfect righteousness.

My mind, oh Lord, it yearns to ponder wretched, fleeting thoughts,
And overlook the awe and wonder of You, immortal God.
Still, you have saved me from your wrath so I’m not truly lost;
Almighty, holy, righteous God, you have loved me thus:
You gave your own, eternal son to die upon the cross,
By grace–take captive every thought—your perfect righteousness.

I am a heathen on my own, ravening in despair;
Unaided I am helpless–unyielding, though, in prayer.
Daily you save me from your wrath or I’d be truly lost;
Almighty, holy, righteous God, you have loved me thus:
You gave your own, eternal son to die upon the cross,
By grace–God’s power dwells in me–your perfect righteousness.

No matter how I meet the Son–be it rapture or in death,
He will say to me, “Well done! Enter into my rest.”
Fully you save me from your wrath, no part of me is lost;
Almighty, holy, righteous God, you have loved me thus:
You gave your own, eternal son to die upon the cross,
By grace I’ll wear forever more your perfect righteousness.

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Categories: Creative Dave, Theology Thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A New Kind of Monster

Once upon a time there was a castle made of stone;
Inside a family of monsters made this place their home.
There were tall monsters and smelly monsters.
Stinky and big bellied monsters.
Fire breathing monsters and sneaky green monsters
There was even a king and a queen monster

Then one day a new monster came along.
This monster wasn’t ugly, and she wasn’t very strong.
All the older monsters heard from her a song
That told of a place where monsters could live free
And be who they were created to be.
They needn’t be nasty.
They needn’t be mean.
If only they followed a new kind of queen.

At first all the monsters did not like the new
Monster who came with its hullabaloo.
So then the old monster king said, “Hey you!
What is it you’re asking us monsters to do?”
And the new monster said “Come with me. Join my crew.

We will travel outside of your kingdom tonight.
Go to your neighbors and treat them real nice
Help and be kind without thinking twice.

Though some of the monsters thought this was swell
With most of the monsters it didn’t go over too well.
They became very angry and started to plot
A really mean trick; these monsters were hot!

The small group was serving and those monsters were red.
Then old king and queen glued and feathered the head
Of all who followed the new queen instead.

All those mean monsters thought they had won
When the new queen and crew went off toward the sun.
Days and weeks passed and they thought they were done;
Now they’d go back to their old, selfish fun.

Then one day they looked up in the sky.
“If I didn’t know better” said old monster one-eye,
“I’d say those new monsters have learned how to fly!”

Categories: Creative Dave | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Invictus: Redo

In reading a book of English/Irish poetry I came across “Invictus,” by William Ernest Henley. It is an intriguing poem depicting the resolve of mankind to fight and win his own fate. And while it is true that we are responsible for our own thoughts and actions, as Solomon says, “The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the LORD. (Pr 21:31)” With that in mind, I made a few revisions to Henley’s account to better reflect the course of human history:

Henley’s Invictus:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of cicumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bldugeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
and yet the meance of the years
finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

My Convictus:
I’m in the night that covers me,
Black as the pit my nat’ral pole,
I thank my self-corruptor: me,
For my dead and sinful soul.

In the pangs of sin and death, glance
Not I to God nor cry aloud.
Under the curse of sin’s advance
My will is battered and unbowed.

But to the cross of wrath and blood
The LORD himself went in my place,
And through the preaching of the word
I can receive his loving grace.

When then I’m caught up to his gate,
I’ll say to him who reads the scroll:
You are the master of my fate;
You are the captain of my soul.

Categories: Creative Dave, Theology Thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

A Poem About Spit-Up

Ode to Spit-Up

 

Spit-up spit-up everywhere
On my clothes and in my hair
On the baby on the ground
There’s not one place it isn’t found.
On my face and on my toes
In my navel and on my nose
Sometimes I don’t even care
That there’s spit-up everywhere.

 

photo (2)

The Spit-Up Maker

 

Categories: Motherhood Scribblings | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

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