He Cares For The City

In the turmoil of the city,
In its rush and roar and din.
I saw a lovely rose,
Growing on a slender stem.

As God cares for the rose,
So the city by Him is kept.
For it was a sinful city,
Over which the Master wept.

Deep in His heart is sorrow,
For the city's sin and shame.
And gladly would he cleanse it,
By the power of His name.

And as God cares for the rose,
He would make the city clean and fair.
If they bring their sin to the throne of Grace,
They would find a welcome there.

The Letter From Home

He sat alone in an army camp,
His face seemed lined with pain
For the postman had come bringing the mail.
No letter for him again.

Then up from the depth of his heart came a cry,
We need you help to furnish arms.
To build the ships that sail the sea,
The planes that sail the sky.

But still we crave from those back home
Letters wrote by loving hands.
From Mothers, Sisters, Sweethearts, friends,
Written in a language we understand.

So if we fight in the chilly north,
Or on Africa's burning sands
A message of love will cheer us so
On sea, or sky, or land.

There is no place where a man may be,
In company or all alone,
Where his heart don't leap when the mailman says,
Here's a letter from home sweet home.

The Christ of the Lonely Hill

I thought I saw as in a passing dream,
As plain as a play on a silver screen,
The world with all its turmoil
And the smoke of battle ascending.
I trembled with fear at the havoc,
The destruction and waste that I saw.
For none seemed to love another
Or had fear or respect for the law.
And I cried to the Master for mercy,
To save e're all should be lost.
And, lo, a voice said, "Look and see".
And the smoke of battle lifted,
The earth became peaceful and still.
I saw the Faithful clinging safely
To a cross on a lonely hill.

Now in the midst of battle,
In this world of sin and strife,
When sword and famine and earthquake
Take a fearful toll on life,
When the sons of men are taken
And taught to maim and kill,
When the world is wracked with pain,
And has forsaken the Maker's will
I will trust in the lowly Jesus
Who died on that lonely hill.

For His word will stand forever
And His promises are ever true.
His mercies descendeth gently,
As pure as the morning dew.
And some there are who will be faithful,
That believe his peace be still
Who will conquer through the Christ
Who died on that lonely hill.

Though some may trust in their goodness
Or in the power of their name,
Others lean on their riches,
Or seek to rise on fame,
I have put my trust in the Son of God
And obey His loving will
For He is the Master of earth and skies,
This Chirst of the lonely hill.

The Rainbow

They say at the end of the rainbow
There is hidden a treasure of gold.
If you can gain the end of the rainbow
That treasure you can surely behold

We have followed the path of the rainbow,
Forsaking the things worthwhile.
The phantom path of the rainbow,
For many a weary mile.

Swiftly has vanished the rainbow
And left us with a wasted day.
The glittering, promising rainbow,
When the rain has passed away.

Don't be fooled by the rainbow,
By the promise of wealth that is there.
Just gaze on the beauty of the rainbow
And you its treasures will share.

Talk of Heaven to Me

I went to hear the Rev. Brown,
A preacher of great renown.
He preached on the things of today:
Of long hair, short skirts and moral decay.
He spoke of the cup at the supper,
Not to eat of the Pharisees' leaven.
But one thing he never even mentioned,
He never said a word about heaven.

Now Brother Jones from down the way
Preached a lot about the judgment day.
He spoke of the prophets of old,
Of the judgments they foretold.
He said we should love one another
And forgive seventy times seven.
But when he had finished, brother,
He hadn't said a word about heaven.

Let's tell the world about the things
That God has laid by in store.
And though He has told us many things,
He said there were many more.
Of streets of gold and pearly gates,
A place where Christ our Savior waits,
Of happiness and sins forgiven.
Tell of a wondrous place called Heaven.

The Old Horn House

The old Horn House stood here
In the days of long ago.
Where in the carefree days of boyhood
Many a pleasant hour did know.

A few walls, and empty shell,
No pathway to the gate,
Nothing left its story to tell.
No loved one there awaits.

But, lo, I see barefeet prints
In every open space.
Hear happy laughter ringing.
See many a smiling face.

Perhaps there was some sadness,
Some hurt that came that way.
But that is long forgotten.
I just remember each pleasant day.

Remember how we ranged the woods,
With our old dog by our side,
Gathering the fruit of the woods.
Its plenty we gathered with pride.

Hickory nut, persimmon, grape, or haw,
There was nothing we banned
We ate whatever came our way,
Be it raw, or cooked or canned.

The syrup cookies Mother made
She made them by the peck.
We never seemed satisfied
'Till we were full up to our neck.

There are no ghosts about the place,
Where memories' treasures are.
Because a ghost of any kind
Would memories' pleasures mar.

Truth

That which is in accord with the facts.

A proven doctrine.

That which is real, factual, exact.

The standard by which all saying, assertion or doctrine are measured.

One of the attributes of God, that it is impossible for God to lie.

The foundation upon which the Christian Religion is based, that Christ Jesus is Truth embodied.

I AM THE TRUTH, don't doubt Him.

His word dictated by the Holy Spirit is Truth and will last throughout the age of Eternity.

It will lead a man in the right path, give him an inner peace and security.

It never is conquered.

Though thrust aside it remains firm, planted in the minds of men, causing them to either reject it or accept it.

That's East Texas

Monday - the clouds were lowering,
And the wind came from the West.
It seemed that it would start snowing,
And lay a blanket so the world could rest.
That's East Texas.

Tuesday - the sun shone brightly,
And the day was brisk and fair.
And the north wind blew
And the leaves were dancing everywhere.
That's East Texas.

Wednesday - the chill winds were gone,
And there blew a gentle breeze.
And the soothing warmth that came
Gave promise to barren shrubs and trees.
That's East Texas.

Thursday - the wind blew from the Gulf,
And rain clouds formed again.
And marched across hte wooded hills,
And sought to water the earth with rain.
That's East Texas.

Friday - the north wind blew again,
And fires in the homes did glow.
And ice covered the highway,
And it was dangerous for people to go.
That's East Texas.

Saturday - The air is crisp and still.
And hoar frost everywhere you see.
The silvery twinkle on th hill
A thing of beauty, grand to see.
That's East Texas.

Sunday - what will the weather be today?
Will it send a gentle zepher our way?
Or will it with the north wind howl
Like a banshee's growl?
Down in East Texas.

The Little White Church On The Hill

There are spots that suit my fancy,
Scenes of wondrous beauty rare.
Spots that lift my soul up higer,
Some that make me kneel in prayer.
There're the scenes of early childhood
Where I enjoyed a boyish thrill.
But none is so dear in my memory
As the little white church on the hill.

I grew up there at my Mother's knee,
And met the girl that married me.
Heard the Preacher as he read the Word
That led me to accept my Lord.
I was happy, happy as could be,
And sweet memories linger still,
On all that is so dear to me,
And the little white church on the hill.

The songs seem sweeter,
The sweetest I've ever heard.
Sung by those friends I love.
My very heart was stirred.
Yes, I long for the place
And I think I always will.
For the sweet smiling faces,
And the little white church on the hill.

Puny Man

If you think you are mighty,
Something great for people to see,
Go down to the sea shore
Where the wild waves roll
Like trouble rolls over the soul.
There the Master says "Peace, be still,"
And all is calm and serene.
And all this happened
Without your helping hand.
You are not big, puny little man.

Christmas Morning

It's Christmas Morning,
And all through the house
Such a hustle and bustle,
It would scare any mouse.
Down in the living room
It isn't any better,
With paper and ribbon
Thrown helter skelter.
A little girl hugging a
Pretty new doll;
Her eyes shining with joy.
A little boy down on the floor
Trying out a brand new toy.
A Mother looking on
Her eyes brimming with joy.
While Dad is on his knees
Just as pleased.
Having the time of his life.

Silently

How silently you come
On the scent of bonfires.
You transformed the ugliness
Of moldy leaves and bare branches
With your clinging cover.
The earth was renewed under a beautiful
    cover of scintilating snow.

You reminded me of another
Who came silently, bringing a newness,
That with Love, forever covering the soul of everyone
Who will trust in His name.