God Knows...
When you are tired and discouraged from fruitless
efforts... God knows how hard you have tried.
When you've cried so long and your heart is in
anguish... God has counted your tears.
If you feel that your life is on hold and time has
passed you by... God is waiting with you.
When you think you've tried everything and don't
know where to turn... God has a solution.
When nothing makes sense and you are confused or
frustrated... God has the answer.
If suddenly your outlook is brighter and you find
traces of hope... God has whispered to you.
When things are going well and you have much to be
thankful for... God has blessed you.
When something joyful happens and you are filled
with awe... God has smiled upon you.
When you have a purpose to fulfill and a dream to
follow... God has opened your eyes and called you
by name.
Remember that wherever you are or whatever you are
facing... GOD KNOWS
By: Kelly D. Caron
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Pilgrims on a Journey
(we sang this poem in Woman's Chorus this semester)
We are pilgrims on a journey
And companions on the road;
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.
I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you,
Speak the peace you *long to hear.
I will weep when you are weeping,
When you laugh I'll laugh with you;
I will share your joy and sorrow
'Til we've seen this journey through.
When we sing to God in heaven
We shall find such harmony,
Born of all we've known together
Of Christ's love and agony.
Sister/Brother let me be your servant,
Let me be as Christ to you;
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant too.
-Richard Gillard
*the original word at this part was want, but we changed it to long
At the sister/brother, we sang sister because it is Woman's Chorus, but both can be applied because the poem applies to both genders.
We are pilgrims on a journey
And companions on the road;
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.
I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you,
Speak the peace you *long to hear.
I will weep when you are weeping,
When you laugh I'll laugh with you;
I will share your joy and sorrow
'Til we've seen this journey through.
When we sing to God in heaven
We shall find such harmony,
Born of all we've known together
Of Christ's love and agony.
Sister/Brother let me be your servant,
Let me be as Christ to you;
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant too.
-Richard Gillard
*the original word at this part was want, but we changed it to long
At the sister/brother, we sang sister because it is Woman's Chorus, but both can be applied because the poem applies to both genders.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Who Shall Deliver Me?
Who Shall Deliver Me?
God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.
All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out,
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about
I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?
If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Earth runs apace.
If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!
God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves fore ease, and rest, and joys:
Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.
Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me,
Break off the yoke and set me free.
-Christina Rossetti
God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.
All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out,
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about
I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?
If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Earth runs apace.
If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!
God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves fore ease, and rest, and joys:
Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.
Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me,
Break off the yoke and set me free.
-Christina Rossetti
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Race
THE RACE
Life’s Greatest Lesson
From the book by Dee Groberg
“Quit! Give up. You’re beaten!”
They shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now,
This time you can’t succeed."
And as I start to hang my head
In front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by
The memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene;
For just the thought of that short race
Rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race—young boys, young men—
How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear;
It wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope;
Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side
Each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they went,
Young hearts and hopes afire,
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular,
Whose dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My dad will be so proud!”
But as they sped down the field
Across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and s l I p p e d.
Trying hard to catch himself,
His hands flew out to brace,
But mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face.
So down he fell and with him hope
He couldn’t win it now –
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up.
And showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said,
“Get up and win the race.”
He quickly rose, no damage done,
Behind a bit, that’s all –
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself
To catch up and to win –
His mind went faster than his legs;
He slipped and fell again!
He wished then he had quit before,
With only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now;
I shouldn’t try to race.”
But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face;
That steady look which said again:
“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”
So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last –
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought.
“I’ve got to move real fast.”
Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!
Defeat! He lay there silently
A tear dropped from his eye –
There’s no sense running anymore;
Three strikes: I’m out! Why try!”
The will to rise had disappeared;
All hope had fled away;
So far behind, so error prone;
A loser all the way.
“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought,
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low.
“Get up and take your place;
You were not meant for failure here.
Get up and win the race.”
“With borrowed will get up,” it said,
“You haven’t lost at all.
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to run once more,
And with a new commit
He resolved that WIN OR LOSE
At least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now,
The most he’d ever been –
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win.
Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
Three times he rose again;
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner,
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy;
No falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
For finishing the race.
And even though he came in last,
With head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said,
“I didn’t do too well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said,
“You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.
Life’s Greatest Lesson
From the book by Dee Groberg
“Quit! Give up. You’re beaten!”
They shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now,
This time you can’t succeed."
And as I start to hang my head
In front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by
The memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene;
For just the thought of that short race
Rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race—young boys, young men—
How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear;
It wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope;
Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side
Each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they went,
Young hearts and hopes afire,
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular,
Whose dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My dad will be so proud!”
But as they sped down the field
Across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and s l I p p e d.
Trying hard to catch himself,
His hands flew out to brace,
But mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face.
So down he fell and with him hope
He couldn’t win it now –
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up.
And showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said,
“Get up and win the race.”
He quickly rose, no damage done,
Behind a bit, that’s all –
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself
To catch up and to win –
His mind went faster than his legs;
He slipped and fell again!
He wished then he had quit before,
With only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now;
I shouldn’t try to race.”
But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face;
That steady look which said again:
“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”
So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last –
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought.
“I’ve got to move real fast.”
Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!
Defeat! He lay there silently
A tear dropped from his eye –
There’s no sense running anymore;
Three strikes: I’m out! Why try!”
The will to rise had disappeared;
All hope had fled away;
So far behind, so error prone;
A loser all the way.
“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought,
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low.
“Get up and take your place;
You were not meant for failure here.
Get up and win the race.”
“With borrowed will get up,” it said,
“You haven’t lost at all.
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to run once more,
And with a new commit
He resolved that WIN OR LOSE
At least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now,
The most he’d ever been –
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win.
Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
Three times he rose again;
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner,
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy;
No falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
For finishing the race.
And even though he came in last,
With head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said,
“I didn’t do too well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said,
“You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.
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