The Toys- By Coventry Patmore

My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,
Having my law the seventh time disobey'd,
I struck him, and dismiss'd
With hard words and unkiss'd,
—His Mother, who was patient, being dead.
Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,
I visited his bed,
But found him slumbering deep,
With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet
From his late sobbing wet.
And I, with moan,
Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;
For, on a table drawn beside his head,
He had put, within his reach,
A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone,
A piece of glass abraded by the beach,
And six or seven shells, 

A bottle with bluebells, And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, To comfort his sad heart. So when that night I pray'd To God, I wept, and said: Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, Not vexing Thee in death, And Thou rememberest of what toys We made our joys, How weakly understood Thy great commanded good, Then, fatherly not less Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, 'I will be sorry for their childishness.' Coventry Patmore

I Trust In Jesus

Before this body turns to dust
Before this world I leave
Upon The Lord I’ve placed my trust
Upon The Rock I’ll cleave

I’ve placed my trust in Jesus Christ
God’s Son of flesh and bone
The innocent Lamb sacrificed
I trust His word alone

I trust He chose for man to die
Then rose again to reign
That as God’s Seed He’d multiply
His flock when born-again

I trust His blood can cleanse the soul
I trust His blood can save
His very name can make us whole
And save us from the grave

I trust in Jesus’ loving care
I trust He bore my shame
I trust the love He came to share
Remains today the same

I trust the pardon Jesus bought
Can save this wretch from hell
I trust Salvation’s true report
My Saviour had to tell

Although the devil’s out to harm
Though Satan, he’s out to kill
I trust my Lord’s almighty arm
I trust His righteous will

I trust my life to Christ The Lord
I trust in Heaven’s Door
I trust in God’s Almighty Sword
I’ll trust Him evermore…

Michael P. Johnson


Testimony of Michael P. Johnson:
All praise and glory to The Living Lord; God and Jesus Christ my soon coming King.
Born a sinner saved by grace. I first truly began going to church at the tender age of 46 years 10 months. After six wonderful life changing months. After thoroughly reading the Bible and believing it from front to back true! I was born-again through the precious blood of my personal Saviour Jesus Christ. After accepting that He is who He & God’s Word (Bible) says He is. I further can testify that The Lord God Jesus Christ LIVES.

For even as an insignificant wretch that I was, six times I personally audibly heard the voice of The Living God. Once The Father, four times Jesus; the Holy Spirit once. Always distinct audible. Though each time was different some lengthy, others short. Countless other times in diverse ways I have recognised God speaking to me. So now I can never doubt that The Godhead well & truly lives! ! !

The Weaver

I had this poem written on my birthday card sometime in 1992. The author was 'unknown'; yet I searched in the net for some authorship to this poem; I am not sure I found some, because the second part of this poem is attributed to B.M. Franklin. But the first part was different in the original version. But here it is, just as I received it.

Behind our lives the Weaver stands
And works His wondrous will;
We leave it in His all-wise hands
And trust His perfect skill.
Should mystery enshroud His plan
And our short sight be dim;
We will not try the whole to scan -
But leave each thread to Him.

Not until the loom is silent
And the shuttle ceases to fly
Will God unroll the batten
And explain the reason why
The dark threads were as needful,
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As threads of gold and silver;
For the pattern He has planned.

- Unknown

The Battle of the Self

Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered:
'All of self, and none of Thee'

Yet He found me: I beheld Him
Bleeding on the accursed tree;
Heard Him pray, "Forgive them, Father",
And my wistful heart said faintly:
'Some of self and some of Thee'

Day by day, His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered:
'Less of self and more of Thee'

Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered;
Grant me now my soul's desire:
'None of self but all of Thee'

- Unknown

True Tomorrow

Another Look at Matt. 7: 21-23

It is night! The lights are gleaming

Endless desires and dark dreaming

Let moths flutter in colored vanity

Then return to dust and gloom!

When the sunbeams come out shining

Precious hopes; daylight dawning

In the land of true tomorrows

Will the butterflies dance and bloom

- David Nesaraj

No Greater Friend!

A minister passing through his church
In the middle of the day,
Decided to pause by the altar
And see who had come to pray.

Just then the back door opened,
A man came down the aisle,
The minister frowned as he saw
The man hadn't shaved in a while.

His shirt was shabby, old
And his coat was worn and frayed,
The man knelt, he bowed his head,
Then rose and walked away.

In the days that followed,
Each noon-time came - this chap,
He knelt down just for a moment,
A lunch pail in his lap;

Well, the minister's suspicions grew,
With robbery a main fear,
He decided to stop the man and ask him,
"What are you doing here?"

The old man said he worked down the road;
Lunch was half an hour
Lunchtime was his prayer time,
For finding strength and power

"I stay only moments, see,
Because the factory is so far away;
As I kneel here talking to the Lord,
This is what I say:"

"'I just came again to tell You, Lord,
How happy I’ve been,
Since we found each other's friendship…
And You took away my sin'

'Don't know much of how to pray;
But I think about you everyday.
So, Jesus, this is Jim,
Checking in today'"

The minister feeling foolish,
Told Jim that that was fine.
He told the man he was welcome
To come and pray just anytime.

“Time to go”, Jim smiled and said
"Thanks"; he sped to the door.
The minister knelt at the altar,
He'd never done it before.

His cold heart melted, warmed with love,
Met with Jesus there…
As the tears flowed, in his heart -
He repeated old Jim's prayer:

"I just came again to tell You, Lord,
How happy I’ve been,
Since we found each other's friendship…
And You took away my sin"

"Don't know much of how to pray;
But I think about You each day.
So, Jesus, this is me,
Checking in today"

Past noon one day, the minister noticed
That old Jim hadn't come.
As more days passed without Jim,
He began to worry some.

At the factory, he asked about him,
Learning he was ill.
The hospital staff were worried;
But he'd given them a thrill.

The week that Jim was with them,
Brought changes in the ward
His smiles, a joy contagious;
Changed people - were his reward.

The head nurse couldn't understand
Why Jim was so glad,
When no flowers, calls or cards came -
Not a visitor he had.

The minister stayed by his bed,
He voiced the nurse's concern:
No friends came to show they cared
He had nowhere to turn.

Looking surprised, old Jim spoke up
And with a winsome smile;
"The nurse is wrong, she couldn't know,

That in here all the while"

"Everyday at noon; He's here,
A dear friend of mine, You see,
He sits right down, takes my hand,
Leans over and says to me:"

'"I just came again to tell you, Jim,

How happy I have been,

Since we found this friendship…

And I took away your sin."
"Always love to hear you pray,

I think about you every day;

And so Jim, this is Jesus,

Checking in today"

- Author Unknown

Creation to Creation

From dark deep void and earth without mould
'Tis birth of beginning - creation unfold:
The Master, the man - the place, the plan;
And then the fiend - that serpent of old!

From tree to fruit and all things possible,
Master gave man - his will, fill, tranquil;
But the Liar, the doubt; the fruit - God forebode;
And then the curse - man cast out to till!

From nations and races, raising his hood -
The Serpent still kills on this earth's sod,
Those whose eyes buys lies - "Surely you won't die"
And then the fall - "You will be like God!"

From age to age God's plan is sure,
Great "I AM", the virgin birth, Lamb so pure;
'The cross, the Son - the battle He won!
And then the gift - to all who will near.

From dust to dust, and a life of pain -
The man would wallow, follow his own gain,
Till the Saviour meet - man at His feet!
And then the joy - man is born again!

From vanquished to victor, man would trait
The Word his light, the faith his fight;
When death does have it's sway someway
There is sure hope - it is just the night!

From ashes is beauty, from death vict'ry
Mortal man must put on - immortality!
And when we would rise from sleep and see,
There is Jesus - all eternity!

- David Nesaraj