Poems, Hymns & Favourite Quotes
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Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength."
Charles Spurgeon


It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost how great yer luxury-.
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradierly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used-they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
For these are scenes that grip the heart an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
O' her that was an' is no more-ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got to sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, and trained 'em just t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got to love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

- Edgar Guest  More Edgar Guest Poems



O Lord, You are not the author of confusion 

And that is what I feel today.

This home that You have blessed me with

Overwhelms me with its abundance.

As I skirt around misplaced objects and clothes

I find myself sinking into despair.

Though my cup runneth over I feel no peace

For there is no order here.


O Lord, You are not the author of confusion

For You are orderly and perfect and just.

Grant me the strength to find my way back to peace

To find enjoyment in Your provision and my orderliness .

I have not been careful with my time and I now reap

The rewards of idleness and lack of planning.

Help me redeem my time and reclaim my home,

That I may serve You and my family better.


O Lord, You are not the author of confusion,

Help me to discern those possessions that are truly needful

And dispense of that which is robbing me of my joy.

For having too much is as much a curse as having too little-

This anguish of soul and spirit still causes me grief the same.

Teach me Lord to be content with sufficient for each day,

For by freeing my heart of this burden of over abundance,

I will make more room in it for You.

Glenys Robyn Hicks 2005


‘For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints.’
1 Corinthians 14:33

Get to know more hymns... the doctrinal truths will take on new importance to you as you sing them and make melody in your heart to the LORD.
hymntime (this an updated link to the orginal Cyber Hymnal)

If monotony tries me, and I cannot stand drudgery; 
if stupid people fret me and the little ruffles set me on edge;
if I make much of the trifles of life,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
... Amy Carmichael (1867-1951)

Down from His Glory
Words by William E. Booth-Clibborn   Music by Eduardo di Capua -1921
about the author of Down From His Glory

Down from His glory, ever living story,
My God and Savior came, and Jesus was His name;
Born in a manger to His own a stranger,
A man of sorrows, tears and agony!


Oh how I love Him!  How I adore Him!
My breath, my sunshine, my all in all!
The great Creator became my Savior,
And all God's fullness dwelleth in Him!

What condescension, bringing us redemption,
That in the dead of night, not one faint hope in sight,
God gracious, tender laid aside His splendor,
Stooping to woo, to win, to save my soul!

Without reluctance, flesh and blood His substance,
He took the form of man, revealed the hidden plan;
O glorious myst'ry sacrifice of Calv'ry!
And now I know He is the great "I AM"!

When God is about to do something great, He starts with a difficulty.  When He is about to do something truly magnificent, He starts with an impossibility. 
Armin Gesswein

If a man fights his way through his doubts to the conviction that Jesus Christ is Lord, he has attained to a certainty that the man who unthinkingly accepts things can never reach.   

William Barclay (1907-1978)

               When We See Christ
(It will be worth it all)
Words and music by Esther Kerr Rusthoi

Oft times the day seems long, our trials hard to bear,
We're tempted to complain, to murmur and despair;
But Christ will soon appear to catch His Bride away,
All tears forever over in God's eternal day.
      It will be worth it all when we see Jesus,
      Life's trials will seem so small when we see Christ;
      One glimpse of His dear face all sorrow will erase,
      So bravely run the race till we see Christ.

Sometimes the sky looks dark with not a ray of light,
We're tossed and driven on , no human help in sight;
But there is one in heav'n who knows our deepest care,
Let Jesus solve your problem - just go to Him in pray'r.
       It will be worth it all when we see Jesus,
       Life's trials will seem so small when we see Christ;
       One glimpse of His dear face all sorrow will erase,
       So bravely run the race till we see Christ.

Life's day will soon be o'er, all storms forever past,
We'll cross the great divide, to glory, safe at last;
We'll share the joys of heav'n - a harp, a home, a crown,
The tempter will be banished, we'll lay our burden down.
       It will be worth it all when we see Jesus,
       Life's trials will seem so small when we see Christ;
       One glimpse of His dear face all sorrow will erase,
       So bravely run the race till we see Christ.

Stay still in the hand of the Potter
Lie low 'neath His wonderful touch,
He shapeth and mouldeth in mercy,
The clay that He loveth so much.
Surrender thyself to His working,
The curve, the hollow He wills,
Nor shrink from the pain and the pressure,
For the vessel He fashions, He fills.
My life goes round in empty dreaming,
Never being, always seeming,
Neither day nor night redeeming -
O weary, weary life!

Double in my dreams I'm feeling;
Brain with brain confusion reeling;
Now well, now ill sensations stealing
Across my weakened frame.
Golden Sol's rich rays are telling
Morning joy to many a dwelling;
Here no darkness e'er dispelling
O weary, weary morn!
O ease me of my weary load;
Lay me beneath the soft green sod;
Ashes to ashes. the life to God,
And let me rest in peace.
Hush! saith the still small voice, repining;
He purifies, all good designing;
'Each dark cloud has its silver lining,'
To cheer us in the gloom.
Soon He comes, all ills redressing;
Bearing healing, bearing blessing;
Sufferings ease, and hearts' distressing-
Thou great physician, come!

Past the long, long night of weeping,
Life its harvest now is reaping,
Earth its jubilee is keeping
In universal song.

Brother John Foreman
(written several days before falling asleep after a long illness)

 Short Stories & Devotionals
(more in "Neat Inspirational Stories and More")

You'll Find Jesus There
A Story and A Thought
~ Tim's devotional (
Good Questions

Tied Down by Edgar Guest
If Tomorrow Never comes

Do you think that the work God gives us to do is never easy? Jesus says that His yoke is easy, His burden is light. People sometimes refuse to do God’s work just because it is easy. This is sometimes because they cannot believe that easy work is His work; but there may be a very bad pride in it. Some, again, accept it with half a heart and do it with half a hand. But however easy any work may be, it can not be well done without taking thought about it. And such people, instead of taking thought about their work, generally take thought about the morrow—in which no work can be done, any more than in yesterday.   

 ---George Macdonald (1824-1905), The Seaboard Parish

     We have the means to evangelize our country; 
but they are slumbering in the pews of our churches.
... John R. W. Stott (1921- )

If the mercy of God is so great that He can instruct us, to our salvation,
even when He hides Himself, what a brilliance of light we must expect when He reveals Himself!

                              ---Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), Pensees

Here is the great truth that, only when we see things in the light of God, do we see things as they are. It is only when we see things in the light of God that we see what things are really important, and what things are not. These things seem vastly important, things like ambition, and prestige, and money and gain, lose all their value and importance when they are seen in the light of God. Pleasures and habits and social customs which seem permissible enough, are seen for the dangerous things they are when they are seen in the light of God. Things which seem evils, hardship, toil, discipline, unpopularity, even persecution, are seen in their glory when they are seen in the light of God.

... William Barclay (1907-1978),  The Revelation of John (Vol.II)

Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you yourself shall be a miracle. Every day you shall wonder at yourself, at the richness of life which has come to you by the grace of God.

            ... Phillips Brooks (1835-1893)

"The times are dark, the spirits of ruin are abroad in all their power,
and the mercy of God alone can save us."

-- President Abraham Lincoln, 1862

To laugh is to risk ... appearing a fool.
To weep is to risk ... appearing sentimental.
To reach out for another is to risk ... involvement.
To expose feelings is to risk ... rejection.
To place your dreams before the crowd is to risk ... ridicule.
To love is to risk ... being loved in return.
To go forward in the face of overwhelming odds is to risk ... failure.
But, risks must be taken, because the greatest risk of all is to risk nothing.
Those who risk nothing ... do nothing, have nothing, are nothing.
They may temporarily avoid suffering and sorrow, but
They cannot feel, learn, change, grow, live, or love.
Chained by their certitudes, they become slaves Forfeiting their freedom.
Only the person who risks is free.

- Chuck Swindoll

This poem is from Mom of 9's Place.  Please visit this website for  literally
hundreds of ideas, articles, resources, links, recipes & more! 

The Mother of the Prodigal Son
This poem is dedicated to all the mothers who have lost and wayward children. Don't lose your faith in God who can bring them back to the fold.

Where is the mother of the prodigal son
On that day so long ago?
What were her thoughts
And what were her fears
As she watched him turn to go?

How many times in the dark of night
Did the tears slide down her face?
Did she get out of bed
And fall on her knees,
Just to pray that her boy was safe?

How were the days when she did not know
Was he alive? Was he warm? Was he well?
Who were his friends?
And where did he sleep?
Was there anyone there she could tell?

But, oh, on that day

when she looked down the road
As she had looked since her son went away,
Did love unspeakable flood her soul?
Did she cry?
What did she say?

I think when the father had welcomed their son
And the boy had greeted his brother,
That the servants made a path
For him to enter the door
And the waiting arms of his mother.

Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray,
and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice.
Ps 55:17  


Mother's Elbows On My Bed

I was but a youth and thoughtless,
As all youths are apt to be;
Though I had a Christian mother
Who had taught me carefully.
There came a time when pleasure
Of the world came to allure,
And I no more sought the guidance
Of her love so good and pure.
Her tender admonitions fell
But lightly on my ear,
And for the gentle warnings
I felt an inward sneer.
But mother would not yield her boy
To Satan's sinful sway,
And though I spurned her counsel
She knew a better way.
She made my room an altar,
A place of secret prayer,
And there she took her burden
And left it in His care.
And morning, noon and evening
By that humble bedside low,
She sought the aids of Him who
Understands a mother's woe.
And I went my way unheeding,
Careless of the life I led,
Until one day I noticed,
Prints of elbows on my bed.
Then I saw that she had been there
Praying for her wayward boy,
Who for love of worldly pleasure
Would her peace of mind destroy.
Long the conflict raged within me,
Sin against my mother's prayers,
Sin must yield - for Mother never-
While she daily met Him there.
And her constant love and patience
Were like coals upon my head,
Together with the imprints
Of her elbows on my bed.
And so at last the fight was won,
And I to Christ was led,
And mother's prayers were answered
By her elbows on my bed.


"The Church in thy house." --Philemon 2

Is there a Church in this house? Are parents, children, friends, servants, all members of it? or are some still unconverted? Let us pause here and let the question go round--Am I a member of the Church in this house? How would father's heart leap for joy, and mother's eyes fill with holy tears if from the eldest to the youngest all were saved! Let us pray for this great mercy until the Lord shall grant it to us. Probably it had been the dearest object of Philemon's desires to have all his household saved; but it was not at first granted him in its fulness. He had a wicked servant, Onesimus, who, having wronged him, ran away from his service. His master's prayers followed him, and at last, as God would have it, Onesimus was led to hear Paul preach; his heart was touched, and he returned to Philemon, not only to be a faithful servant, but a brother beloved, adding another member to the Church in Philemon's house. Is there an unconverted servant or child absent this morning? Make special supplication that such may, on their return to their home, gladden all hearts with good news of what grace has done! Is there one present? Let him partake in the same earnest entreaty.

If there be such a Church in our house, let us order it well, and let all act as in the sight of God. Let us move in the common affairs of life with studied holiness, diligence, kindness, and integrity. More is expected of a Church than of an ordinary household; family worship must, in such a case, be more devout and hearty; internal love must be more warm and unbroken, and external conduct must be more sanctified and Christlike. We need not fear that the smallness of our number will put us out of the list of Churches, for the Holy Spirit has here enrolled a family-church in the inspired book of remembrance. As a Church let us now draw nigh to the great head of the one Church universal, and let us beseech Him to give us grace to shine before men to the glory of His name.

C. H. Spurgeon

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