Poetry @ The Lord's Rain

All I Hoped For
He Did, He Can, He Will
Tears
The Touch of the Master's Hand
Two Nails

All I Hoped For
by an unknown Confederate soldier

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve:
I was made weak that I might obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things:
I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy:
I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men:
I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life:
I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

I received nothing that I asked for, but all I had hoped for.
My prayer was answered, I am most richly blessed.

He Did, He Can, He Will
Martin Luther

The God that stopped the sun on high,
And send the manna from the sky,
Laid flat the walls of Jericho,
And put to flight old Israel's foe,
Why can't He answer prayer today,
And drive each stormy cloud away?
Who turned the water into wine,
And healed a helpless cripple's spine
Command tempests, "Peace be still."
And hungry multitudes did fill,
His power is just the same today,
So why not labor, watch and pray?
He conquered in the Lion's den,
Brought Lazarus back to life again,
He heard Elijah's cry for rain,
And freed the sufferers from the pain,
If He could do those wonders then,
Let's prove our mighty God again,
Why can't the God Who raised the dead,
Gave little David Goliath's head
Cast out the demons with a word,
Yet sees the fall of one wee bird
Do signs and miracles today,
In that same good old-fashioned way?
HE CAN. He's just the same today.

Tears
Donna Sainnawap

I cried and cried, nobody hears.
I wept and wept, still no one hears.
I gave it all to the One I'm serving.
Yet, I cried and cried.
I waited for him to respond.
But, all I got was a silence.
A big drop of tears came from my eye,
as it went down,
Layer after layer,
Still crying out for mercy.
My eyes are red and puffy
Still crying out to Him.
Still a big silence.
I heard a voice saying;
"Come to me child, stop your tears. I'll give you rest."
I cried and cried,
And wept and wept as the love fill in me.
I felt peace.
Down goes my tears.
The tears turn into laughter.
The joy I felt, deep down in me.
No more tears, no more silence.

The Touch of the Master's Hand
Myra Brooks Welch

'Twas battered and scarred, and the old auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three ..." but no.
From the room far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said; "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand! And who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed it's worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sun,
Is auctioned cheep to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like this old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;
A game; and he travels on.
He is "going" once, "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

Two Nails
Wayne Adams

Two nails were used
To pound into two precious hands
Hands that healed
Hands that loved
Hands that surely gestured
When a sermon was preached
Two nails
Two thousand years ago
Penetrated two precious hands
Hands that touch us today.

Home

Back