I Haven’t Quit

He said, “I haven’t quit the church
just ’cause I seldom go.
You see, I’ve got a lot to do,
which you perhaps don’t know.
My job is so demanding, 
with lots of overtime,
there’s hardly time to eat and sleep;
my wife thinks it’s a crime.

“I have to take her shopping
to buy the grub and such;
what’s left of what I earned all week
I’ll tell you—isn’t much!
There’s really nothing left for church,
I’ve got to fill my tank;
then there’s water, gas and lights,
and savings in the bank.

“I bought a boat, but it’s a shame
how seldom it gets out.
Sunday’s about the only day
there’s time for fishing trout.
Some Saturdays I’m just “give out;”
and I refuse to go,
I sink into my easy chair
and watch a late-night show.

“On Sunday morning things don’t move;
sometimes we just sleep in,
unless there’s company for lunch—
perhaps some kith’n’kin.
No, I—(it’s been six months, I guess)
won’t leave you in the lurch;
just any time now, I’ll be back,
’cause I’ve not quit the church!”

fpn/undated




Picture: depositphotos.com #53973807, standard license

Blessed is the Man (Psalm 1)

Blessed is the man 
who in counsel will not walk 
with the ungodly, 
nor will he stand and talk
in the way of sinners, 
nor join the mocking clan 
in the seat of the scornful,
Oh, blessed is the man!

Chorus
Blessed is the man, 
blessed is the man,
The man whose delight 
is in the law of the Lord;
and in that law, and in that law
doth he meditate both day and night;
blessed is the man!
Just like a tree with streams of water near,
bearing his fruit in season ev’ry year,
no withered leaf and what e’er his plan
surely shall prosper.
Oh, blessed is the man!

But the ungodly 
in judgment shall not stand
far from the just,
the sinners will be banned;
they all shall perish, 
as chaff which wind doth fan,
but the Lord approves the righteous.
Oh, blessed is the man!


fpn / 1967

This poem is set to music, published in “Sing and Give Thanks” as song #6.
Contact Joyce for a copy.

Photo: depositphotos.com #52086275, standard license

God and My Garden

God just seems a little nearer
as I watch my garden grow.
Tiny seeds, logic defying,
how they do it, I can't know.

Seeds must die—forever vanish,
as we place them in the soil;
just a little help while growing
brings a harvest after while.

"Living" seed—but you can't see that;
there's no proof till they have died.
And from soil, which too, seems lifeless,
springs forth forage, high and wide.

Food for man, so rich, delicious,
with an intricate design,
provides pleasure and nutrition,
as we fellowship and dine.

Has there been a clearer sermon
with not a spoken word to hear?
So convincing, so inspiring,
assuring me that God is near.

fpn/1987



Photo Credit: Depositphotos 6844718, Standard License