We are all in need of help. But is it the noun or the verb we need?
Woe is me! How can this be?
Where is that help I have sought?
Nothing but wretched know-it-alls
Come to disturb my thought – and my peace.
Peace? What peace?
What am I saying? Who am I trying to kid?
If this is peace then give me war
And I shall rest and sleep and snore.
Time passed on and matters grew worse.
I soon lost all that I had.
My friends had gone their merry old ways,
My family too was gone.
My business failed, uncertainty prevailed;
I slowly began to wrestle with myself
For a change.
What’s this? A knock? A tiny knock?
I haven’t had a knock since that beggar came by!
I wonder who it might be?
Eh? A whimper? A sniffing? A sobbing?
More trouble! Add fuel to the fire!
Is there no rest for the wicked?!
I opened the door and there stood a boy,
One hand over his eyes and one on his knee,
From where trickled blood to my doorstep!
Sir! the lad cried with tear-stained face,
I stumbled and fell just in front of your place.
I have nobody to help me.
Are you a doctor or someone to bind my wound?
Angered at first at the gory mess,
I nearly chased him away.
But though I knew I was only a laborer,
He had flattered me with his question.
Fancy me a doctor!?
“Lad, you have saved your knee,” I thought.
“Oh, very well, come in, come in.
We’ll see what to do with your wound.”
I bound up his leg and sent him away,
Not as friendly as I could have been.
But after all he was a bit of a nuisance
And I did give him some sweets to cheer him.
As I cleaned off my step
I began to think that
Though I was but a common fellow,
Yet he took my help (there was nobody else),
And he went away for the better.
And how was it I helped that little pest?
There was a time I wouldn’t be bothered!
Am I changing somehow or am I going mad?
I actually did him a favor – without charge.
It’s plain to see that though he is hard,
A change is slowly transpiring
A little more time mingled with hope;
Perhaps from evil he is tiring.
These were the words of the Sovereign King
As He spoke to His servant, the boy.
“You were sent to bring good news
And I thank you for your sacrifice.”
Though many who presume to preach the gospel of salvation would deny this, they give people the impression that, upon believing the gospel, all trials and troubles will flee. While it is true that if we walk in truth and righteousness we save ourselves untold evils, it is evil which the Lord uses to break us and mold us after His likeness. And these trials can be far more difficult than those we had previously. Take Paul for example. Was he whipped, stoned and beaten with rods when an unbelieving Jew according to the flesh, sitting amongst friends at the feet of Gamaliel? The evils applied to us for good develop invulnerability and immortality. Resilience, where would I be If not for your helping hand? At one time I was deathly ill, So vulnerable to the slightest afflictions. Scratches would hold sway Like a pestilence And linger in my soul For years. But now like a ball of Indian rubber, I bounce away from a wall of brick Whereas once I was as an egg. The past is a fearful jailor, A formidable tormentor as well. With an iron grip, With shackles and chains, It held me In bitterness and regret, In shame and dismay, In helpless thoughts Of revenge and amends. Not so now. Resilience has come, Riding upon healing, Healing harnessed in pardon, And now I am free. Afflictions still come And pain is there From enemies far greater In power and number With liberties of warfare Given to them And denied to me. But whereas a scratch was o...
[worthy of those addressed] It has occurred to me that if there ever was a lie, if there ever was anything so unscientifically accurate, if there was anything so preposterous, if there was anything so utterly stupid and incredibly farcical, if there was anything that made supposedly educated and intelligent men look like babbling idiots and pea-brained morons, it is the theory (or even more so, theories, each proving the other wrong!) of evolution. Taught as fact, contradicting truth, and while in some cases and ways trying to accommodate God somewhere in their schemes, these men have denied Him and rather than coming from monkeys, have made monkeys of themselves. Yet they will not believe me when I tell them creation is regressing. Madness, are you an accident? In all your incredibility, can it be possible That you came from a mere explosion of gases? Madness, you have so many forms! One form is to believe that so many forms Have been an accident. Bang! And there you began. And you grew and grew and grew And grew and flourished And spread! Madness, could as much as you Come from so little? How can a genius as great and powerful as you, Reigning as you do over the hearts of the wise, Come from a mere bang? The world raves in you; You have evolved much farther than they. Those you call accidents are your subjects; You make monkeys out of them. Leave me out of it. More than that, I’ll speak to them… Without your help or your hindrance. &...
It is supposed by the lovers and inhabitants of this world that Christ came to make their existence in this world a pleasurable one by following His teachings and "principles of success." They fail to realize that His purpose was to deliver us from the tantalizings of earth and prepare us for another world by overcoming and forsaking this one. The cross of Christ represents death, not life to the flesh, and life, not death to the spirit, by the subsequent resurrection. Only a heart after God will perceive the reality of things and pursue at all costs. Righteousness is a dungeon To the son of iniquity. Truth is a stench to his nostrils; It cause his eyes to tear, His nose to wrinkle, His throat to choke. Laws are as chains to him With rough-edged shackles That tear his flesh And bind him down to Hell. Those who speak the truth Are as cruel tormentors, Dictators, fascists, despots To be despised and shunned. Fanatics they are, Upsetting the world, A blotch and a disgrace To a free thinking society, To the modern man, To the age of emancipation. Lawlessness is a palace To the son of iniquity. His pleasure is to sniff the aroma of lies. His eyes light up with delight; He swallows the darkness with zest And never has enough. Unrighteousness is as fine clothing, With lace and frill and charm. Those who speak the lie Are received as saints and kings, Friends, bosom companions To be loved and revered. Sensible they are, And level...