O Lord we yield this lump of clay
To form through love in Your own way,
Refined and supple it might be
A useful vessel shaped by Thee.
And when clay�s suppleness resists
You press the hard lumps out of it,
Then softly moisten them with tears
From Your son�s eyes to rend its fears.
Too well You know its faults and flaws
The chips and cracks retain old laws,
But patiently You mend and reach,
Refill and seal each loathsome breach.
And with the filling of each cup
You wash it clean and shine it up,
Then offer drink to those who thirst
Reminding it that You come first.
How marvelous this mighty loss
Which separates by fire the dross,
And brings forth vessels purged in heat
Now useful at the Master�s feet.
Beloved Potter from Your hand
You mix Your spirit with the sand,
Creating thus these vessels plain
Yet pour out from them latter rain.
�2008, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Four pages found behind a book,
inside a wormwood case.
Addressed to �He who finds this note.�
Its author�s name erased.
The first page speaks of trusting God,
the second, trusting man.
A postscript reads �Remember me�,
in larger, stronger hand.
The words are written in a slant,
though masculine in nome.
Three pages numbered 1, 2, 3,
the third page has this poem:
�In times of grief you weep alone,
though I stretch out My hand.
You crucify the messenger,
yet you are in His plan.�
A fourth page placed behind the three,
un-numbered, faded, old.
�To be written� read the words,
and thus the story�s told.
�2008, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Preaching to the choir, dear church,
Is all quite well and good
If in its zeal, en-masse appeal,
Is not misunderstood
Preacher Finley lost his flock
While preaching to the choir
You see, he had to turn his back
On those he might inspire
And in his congregation
Were souls who needed fed
The manna in the Word of God
From Book by which he read
When in the sight of Heaven
He stands before the King
What judgment will be given
For egotism�s sting?
The preacher had neglected
His First Love�s own desire
To nourish first the natural need
Then feed the hurt soul�s sire
Scrape crumbs from plate of caring
Give sup to quench thirst's cry
But never, ever, turn your back
On those of silent sigh
Preacher Finley lost his flock
While preaching to the choir
You see, he had to turn his back
On those he might inspire
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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I am aboard a ship named �Faith�
Upon which strife looms overhead.
Adrift on voyage, clime and scene
O�er life, uncharted, it is lead.
At first, I see no loathsome thing,
Nor sting within the tempest�s sigh
Which heralded a cautious voice
Until within its center�s eye.
�Tis then my sight caught vision all
In pall of foulest beasts above
Then stench attacks, and nostrils flare
And cares of life test my sworn love.
Stay the course, comes Captain�s cry,
and look beyond what you now see.
Enforce the sails, tie fast the ropes,
then trust in He who sails with thee.
Though drenching fear does buffet me,
Lo, strong the voice who speaks in love.
The One who warns to �Stay the course�
Has now subdued all beasts above.
Faint not, my child, when on your course,
the sails seem torn and ropes seem frail
For if there be no trials of faith,
My scarless hands hold bloodless nail.
Stay the course, comes Captain�s cry,
and look beyond what you now see.
Enforce the sails, tie fast the ropes,
then trust in He who sails with thee.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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They all have numbers, icy cold,
Dressed up in hype and sold in molds
Displayed on shiny encased cards
That purchase joy from joyless bards
The Numbered One is Six Six Six
For twos or threes he�ll mix your fix
And gladly trade the first hit free
To own your soul�s inequity
Hear Jezebel weaving her spell?
Enticing she in lusts compel
�Do What You Will� sung ages long
Your downside nines will buy her song
The wicked ones vie for your mind
Corrupting eyes, desensitized,
Persuading hearts most like their own
As skill in pagan arts are honed
By scores of fives the people die
Who buy into proud actor�s lie
Immodest dress and tattooed thighs
Makeup adorning hope-lost eyes
As audience observes last throes
The curtain falls on six-act woes
Then called-out ones arise to leave
As seventh tear falls down to grieve
If judgment first begins with those
Of God�s own house in numbers chose
Then where shall godless sinners be
Who play the odds in twos of three?
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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At the end of coming days
When new dawns have begun
Peaceful reassurances
Tout wars which men have won.
Then spirit of divisions
Will play its black seed hand
And sow each field in sorrow
To reap on foreign land.
Crossed fingers behind stiff backs
Soft words bespeak actions
Yellow, brown, red, white and black
Gathering strong factions.
They drink the froth of mixtures
Atop gold vials of loss
And sip the blood of kingdoms
Whose yoke has skimmed the dross.
What say ye of barren trees
Charring of green grasses?
Oxen treading on the corn
May also tread the masses.
Sing melodies of mercies
Lend voices to your sighs
But at end of coming days
Give none your compromise.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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I searched for a home, but I found none
I walked the seashore, and found one
A sand castle built near lapping shore
When came the tides, it was no more.
How lovely had been its spiraled height
A dream-like castle built by night
Fortressed about by moistened stone
Then cruelest waves felled sandy home.
I searched for a home, but I found none
I walked the landscape, finding one
A thatched seclusion of twig and stick
Through stormy winds, death�s tongue did lick.
How simple had been its cocooned life
I thought t�would be the end of strife
Forlorn fell I upon my face
To waste away, and end my days.
Then sovereign hand reached down in grace
And saved this creature laid on its face
Lifting it up and brushing it free
Of sand�s demise and stick�s debris.
I searched for a home, and I found one
Not made from grains of silted sun
But silver and gold this mansion be
Its Builder has built a home for me.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Pride says � I walk alone
I live my life on my own
For all I am or want to be
Is powered by my self-esteem
I walk alone.
Flesh says � Satisfy me
Soothe my needs, embrace freely
All pleasures now before they�ve flown
Quench no desire, give each a home
Satisfy me.
Time says � I have grown old
No joy I feel within these bones
To self I live, to self I die
Without love�s ear to hear last cry
I have grown old.
Truth says � I cannot lie
You�ll be reviled, perhaps despised
Though from your lips My truth abides
But pride of flesh shan�t dim your eyes
I cannot lie.
Jesus says � Come follow me
I will supply your every need
Cast off all chains that hinder you
New birth, new life I give anew
Come follow me.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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There are those who would remove
God�s name from all they see
No matter that His presence
Keeps souls of faith now free.
These are they not bound by chains
In truth, they cannot be,
Tis God who has allowed His name
Upon the currency.
Do you think, O foolish ones,
Removing monuments
Will cause to dissipate His love
For those who have His breath?
Or prayers unsaid in school rooms
Taken away by creed
Will silence lips who speak to Him
Unceasing though they be?
Never will their hardened hearts
Erase away His name
Their zealot's fire but can conspire
To vindicate His fame.
For at His coming He will know
The souls who did refuse
To be dissuaded of His name
... The others will GOD remove.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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The trilling songs of feathered throngs
Announce the coming day
They light askance each treetop branch
In fluttering display
Their song is that of joyous ring
Proclaiming with shrill sound
The Holy One is coming soon
Lay ye your burdens down!
Lay ye all your burdens down
The King is coming soon!
The hour is late don�t hesitate
Though morning, night, or noon!
Replenish oil in lamp stands now
Don�t let the wicks grow cold
Fill them up and raise them up
To Him who ne�er grows old!
Our Bridegroom wears upon His head
The only regal crown
And sits upon His White Throne with
Winged angels gathered �round
Each grave shall then give up its dead
In Christ they�ve flown to Him
We who remain won�t be restrained
From flying after them
Come forth! Come forth! All children of
Yahweh the Righteous One
And lay ye all your burdens down
For soon your King will come!
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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I think of Jesus crucified
Nailed to that tree of shame
And how He took upon Himself
Our sin, our grief and pain,
Tis then I am reminded of
Exactly what He did
For those who did not know Him
All to whom the Truth was hid.
The cat-o-nine-tails ripped His flesh
Flayed open, pure blood poured
Repeatedly stripes hit their mark
His pain-filled cries ignored.
Then vilest spittle formed within
The mouths of those who mocked
Spat forth to reach His righteous cheek
While third time crowed the cock.
Six hours hung God�s blessed Son
His words heard by a few
�Holy Father please forgive them
For they know not what they do.�
Three days had He from cross been free
Vict�ry o�er death He won �
Hence preordained, I know His name
Jesus the Christ, God�s son.
Today in thankfulness I see
Him brought down from that tree
Though the one deserving of that death
In mortal flesh is me!
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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In far valley lie the dry bones
they wait to take last breath,
they listen for the trumpet
which shall herald swords� request.
Flesh and sinew o�er dry bones come
they stand upright and breathe,
last exhortation marches
holding fast this army�s creed.
Yay, bone to bone and flesh to flesh
soul to soul is measured,
He�s given all fair warning
He�s offered of His pleasure.
Soon now the praying voices heard
be snatched away from flight,
then fists be raised t�ward God�s throne
their pained curses swallow light.
Stings in flesh like scorpion�s kiss
souls cry to render strife,
though mountains fall upon them
surely death won�t take their lives.
These are they who did peruse
forgiveness borne above,
refusing promised grace-filled days
rejecting agape love.
Seven trumps with seven woes
perfection resting long,
light wicks from seven candles
then pour viles o�er earthen throngs.
His Word ordains His coming
His Son the Truth proclaims,
the Pale Horse is now bridled
and its rider holds the reins.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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He was but sixty-one, and now his time had come
his eyes would never see another day.
I held onto his hand, trying to understand,
as my beloved father slipped away.
He raised his tired eyes, and to my glad surprise
a peace I saw in them looked back at me.
In labored voice so soft, he spoke of his life�s loss
and so many wasted years in-between:
�When I was twenty-three, I swore I�d never see
the day that I would bend my stubborn knee.
I had no use for God, to lie beneath black sod
was all I ever thought that there would be.
And then at forty-five, from two wars I�d survived
death took many, but it had not taken me.
Then I questioned �why� � why was I still alive,
when friends� blood ran like pathways to my feet?
It was then He came, like cleansing warm fresh rain
from the depths of my despair His soft refrain:
Choose ye this same day, my son do not delay,
tomorrow is not promised to the slain.
Upon that cold hard ground, my knees buckled down,
from somewhere in that hell a shot rang out.
Had I not been kneeling, that bullet deftly stealing
would have ended any choice His words endowed.�
Daughter, don�t you weep for me
for I long to be with Jesus and to see
my Savior�s blessed face, full of mercy and sweet grace
no, daughter, don�t you weep for me.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Can you hear the mighty voices
sent forth from the four winds,
speaking, oh so strongly now,
as when prophets� words begin?
Elijah called forth fire of test
John Baptist entered in,
Moses parted oceans� depth,
still blind eyes sleep in sin.
What can wake you from your slumber
what caution will you heed,
know ye not the Judge is coming
and His hand holds fast the reed?
North, South, East, and West are measured
there�s nothing left undone,
in �seven� heaven�s fury
will accommodate but One.
Soon he who sits upon a throne
his name �ABOMINATION�
will sift the souls and tear them out
three sixes his oblation.
Too late for some, for some too late
to hear His voice on high
no longer His ears listen
He has turned His righteous eyes.
Can you hear the mighty voices
sent forth from the four winds,
speaking, oh so strongly now,
as when prophets� words begin?
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Lord, take my life and let it be
No longer mine but Yours they see
My stutt�ring speech refine by fire
And from its mold Your words� desire
Lord, take my mind and thoughts to flight
And let them understand this plight
That in the flesh dwells no good thing
Your breath alone doth lift my wings
Lord, take my song and write the words
That by Your mercy chorus heard
Will fill lost souls with hopeful rings
And melodies which all can sing
Lord, take my eyes and through Your sight
Let others see night visions� light
Avert them all from scenes that scorn
Behold only Shekinah-borne
Lord, take my will and chasten me
Scourge from this flesh iniquities
That You will see when face-to-face
A soul reborn embraced by grace
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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I asked You for forgiveness, when my vile sins I saw,
You gave to me Your touch Lord; salvation from old laws.
I asked You for a clean heart; you sent trials and tests my way,
You taught me from Your Word Lord, how not to run away.
I asked You for a new tongue, to praise and glorify,
You filled me with Your Spirit � Most Holy magnified!
I asked You for Your healing, to take away my pain,
You anointed me with faith, and made me whole again.
I asked You for more wisdom, You give to me a shield,
A breastplate and a helmet � now a warrior�s sword I wield!
I asked You for more patience, you send lost souls to me,
And show me how to love them, and tell them what I�ve seen.
I asked You for humbleness, You show me all You�ve done,
Salvation, healing, indwelling � all gifts from Your own Son.
I ask You for eternity, to be with You, my Father,
You speak to me in comfort � �Child, just a little farther ��
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Honestly, I pray for thee,
directing my eyes to see,
o�er sins faults or fruitless acts,
o�er hardened heart�s degree.
Openly, I pray for thee,
(your life shall not cease to be),
from rooftop or from closet,
I shout faith�s victory!
Constantly, I pray for thee,
though worn flesh upon my knees,
should blister �neath their cov�ring,
always, they kneel for thee!
Directly, I pray for thee,
to the Lord Of Grace I speak,
He�s always there to answer,
and faithfully He heeds.
You see, dearly beloved,
unlike others we might see,
He cannot tell a lie, love,
sufficient His Word be.
And should, perchance, my eyes close,
and should, through death, my speech cease,
from Jesus� feet my pray�rs flow,
until you come to me!
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Of all bright stars, in Heaven�s face,
one star shines forth most brightly;
t�ward firmament, of splendid grace,
I lift my eyes uprightly �
And there I see, God�s galaxy,
where hopes all come to hover;
rainbows kneel free, within this sea,
blue-hued, like waves of Dover
Where stars� refrain ... �There is no pain�,
is sung in wafting wonder;
with praises same, the voices rain,
down sounds to echoes� thunder
From place afar, speaks one lone star,
a sage to all who listen �
�Heart be true, I�ll guide you through,
your place of peace I christen.�
Of all bright stars, in Heaven�s face,
one star shines forth most brightly;
t�ward firmament, of splendid grace,
I lift my eyes uprightly �
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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If Jesus came to visit,
just what would we each do,
would we rush about the house
to dust, and tidy too?
The books, there in the corner,
the ones that now cause shame,
would we try to hide them all
far from the Savior�s gaze?
Is �junk food� what we�d offer,
upon a paper plate,
to Him who feeds us manna,
poured forth from Heaven's gate?
Would then, our words be seasoned,
with salting of respect,
or hollow, echoed, phrases,
peppering our neglect?
Would we try to hide vile thoughts,
to cover soul�s demise,
from this Holy visitor,
who sees from tear-stained eyes?
To those who do not know Him,
my plea to you would be,
to clean your house, get ready,
prepare your finest feast.
Invite Him in, though humble,
each dwelling place might be,
he�ll gladly set the table,
and, with Living Waters feed.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some day soon, after this life, in the annals of the pages,
We�ll have shed this mortal shell � picked up our payday wages.
There won�t be any �rain checks� traded in for what we�ve earned,
Nor can money bail this judgment ��cause the jury has adjourned.
White Defense now sits in silence. Black Prosecutor stands:
�Your Honor�, he is saying, �the Defendant is a man,
Who, outwardly, would seem to be, just like any other,
But the evidence against him, proves malice t�ward his brother.�
Continuing, he takes a breath: ��Exhibit Number One �
He�s stolen, lied, and cheated; on the path of sin he�s run.
Unfaithful in his marriage vows; a drunk, and rev�ler be;
If these should not proclaim his guilt�see Exhibits Two and Three:�
With each exhibit he laid down, he seemed to gather steam,
Both to and fro he quickly paced, accusing through skilled means.
With his last words of mastery, he closed his arguments:
�Your Honor I�ve no more to say�now the Prosecution rests.�
White Defense now slowly rises � he looks upon the one,
Whose eyes now stream with falling tears; whose life had come undone.
�Your Honor, I respectfully, submit to you this day,
That my Defendant�s actions were, in all truth, just what they say.�
�Indeed his sins were many, sir, � he understands that now,
On paths of sin he surely ran, until his knee was bowed.
He met a Man upon that path � �Forgiveness� is His name,
His debts are paid in full now, sir, � in his heart he�s surely changed.�
Some day soon, after this life, in the annals of the pages,
We�ll have shed this mortal shell � picked up our payday wages.
There won�t be any �rain checks� traded in for what we�ve earned,
Nor can money bail this judgment ��cause the jury has adjourned.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gavel hangs aloft
The strike is not yet heard
The clock reads five-to-midnight
He is coming ... Feed the birds.
Hedge them with your prayers
Wrap them with His Word
Snatch them from the fire
He is coming ... Feed the birds.
Guard your souls in armor
Look up all eyes diverse
He's called us to the battle
He is coming ... Feed the birds.
Lift up hands to Heaven
Praise Him all tongues unheard
The enemy is roaring
He is coming ... Feed the birds.
The gavel hangs aloft
The strike is not yet heard
The clock reads five-to-midnight
He is coming ... Feed the birds!
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Take away the twinkling lights, the spruce and evergreen
The portly, jolly little man who never can be seen,
The elves and berry-laden wreaths, a kiss �neath mistletoe,
Then celebrate the season�s reason � the Savior�s birth once more.
Take away the colored eggs, and bunny rabbit cheer
The dress up in one�s Sunday best, two days throughout the year,
The Ishtar rites of sacrifice, in fertility�s strange fore,
Then celebrate the season's reason � the resurrected Christ once more.
Take away the misplaced glee, the marching of the dead
The gifts of sweets, no tricks for treats, costumes from toe to head
Keep innocence of children�s hearts in tune with God�s own season,
To celebrate a pagan theme � there is no rhyme nor reason.
Thanksgiving keep with every day, each day throughout the year
Rememb�ring oft� who paid the cost, and keep His name most near,
Securely bind about your souls, those days to which He speaks,
Then celebrate the season�s reason � thanks give to Him we seek.
Take away the schemes and themes of man-made holy days
Forgetting not the simplest truths, and just why we celebrate
The Child was born, He died, He rose ~ God�s restoration plan,
Then celebrate on bended knees � His love for fallen man.
�2006, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Before me lay a leafy grove
of nectarines and grapes,
sweet peaches, pears and apples; in
my judgment lay their fate.
The Master Gard�ner cautioned me,
�Be wise, do not make haste.�
Take care that you�re attentive to
the limbs which bare their face.�
�A healthy tree will surely bring
forth fruit of purity,
though damaged fruit upon the stem
show blemishes indeed.�
Reaching up, I picked a pear
observing carefully,
the color, shape, and texture formed
from growth upon its tree.
�There�s bruising on this fruit, sir,
hidden beneath its skin,
a purpling spot, perhaps a rot,
beginning from within.�
Without a thought, I tossed it,
upon the ground�s decay,
then reached to pick another, but,
the man stood in my way.
Gently, the Master Gard�ner
picked up the discarded pear,
and healed it back upon its stem,
then touched the tree with care.
�Child, �twas but a bruising,
from storms of life �twas bruised
its stem is stout and hardy,
its limb yet unperused.�
�Good fruit holds fast throughout
the tempest�s mighty gale,
and only those which cannot cling,
picked too early, surely fail.�
Sadly then, I walked away;
I�d failed my first inspection.
I noticed bruising on my hand,
not knowing its inception.
Master Gard�ner touched my hand,
wiped away my falling tears,
then spoke the words I longed to hear,
� �Come back again next year?�
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Life�s heartbeat is a mystery
Creator formed it delicately;
draped over blood, sinew and bone
then whispered to it �Welcome home.�
Created thing could not yet speak
for �breath of life� came last you see,
and though it heard Creator�s words
it lay there still on the dewey earth.
Inhaling breath, Creator blew
upon the thing in the dusty dew,
its nostrils flared, its chest uprose
�man� stood upright on feet and toes.
Creator spoke to newly-formed man;
�I am your God and you are Adam.
Your home is known as �paradise�,
Eden�s garden, where you�ll reside.�
�It is good,� spoke Adam to God,
�how beautiful, this Eden's sod.�
�Forever shall I worship You,
dearest Father, my God, my Truth.�
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The blood ran down upon His face.
Deeply, thorns pierced the Prince of Grace.
His flesh was torn from scourgings cruel;
�silence� in the heavens now ruled.
Darkness fell o�er all creation;
earth shook the axis of oblation.
A heartbeat stopped, thus it was done;
Father reunited with His Son.
Three days He lay within His grave;
a prince's tomb fashioned for a 'slave'.
�Conqueror� came forth on the third;
hell was swallowed up by �The Word�.
Gifts of �choice� offered in that hour;
�first Adam� no longer assumed power.
�Last Adam� chose to reign with love,
His Kingdom waiting in realms above.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
�Come up!� Speaks the mighty voice aloud,
�Come up to meet me in the clouds!�
�Your robes prepared are white as snow.�
�Your heartbeats shall walk the streets of gold.�
�Welcome Home, My Faithful � Welcome Home!�
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My feet once walked where my mind had been
captivity held captive through sin,
and all the while the inward child
fought for breath from the stench within.
On the outside clean white sepulchers
adorned the intellectual thing,
cold steel encased all underneath
showing spot through the whited sheen.
O�er a thousand lives in one lifetime
O�er ten thousand tears to shed,
O�er glassy shards and debris walked
those feet that the mind had led.
O my Lord for a thousand voices
for to sing ten thousand songs,
all magnify Your name on high
where Your blood has healed all wrong.
Now my feet no longer walk where once
the lofty sinner�s nature trod,
for my mind is fixed on thee My Lord
and to kiss the feet of God.
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Once I was rich and increased with goods
My strength took form in wealth and power
Preaching of prophets outside my gate
A message of hope, salvation�s theme,
I soothed myself with pleasure and wine,
I died this day and from hell�s mighty girth
�I�m tormented in this flame O lord!
�What is this you say? There�s a great gulf fixed,
�Your brothers have the words of prophets,
living lavishly from day to day,
commanding at-will that servants should
regard me as their lord in all ways
my �faith� being avarice and greed,
a dying beggar�s prayer in that hour
ignored of any worth nor my heed
who decry another king has come
A heart carved of stone had I, with hate,
for the voices who contend they�ve �won�
preposterous petitions of love!
Spew they out heresies, lies and schemes,
endowment from a God-man above!
each day increased more wealth than the last
I bartered for gain from the widow�s mite,
sold my own soul for the coins I held fast
I cried out to father Abraham
�Send me the beggar to quench my thirst
from your bosom send he where I am.�
and my tongue is swollen large in pain.
Would that I could perish by the sword
than to live forever in this flame!�
none who would can enter unto me?�
�Then send to my brothers a messenger hence,
to forewarn them of their fate to be.�
and even yet they live in unbelief,
though messengers be sent, they would not
hear the message YOU did not believe.�
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Clearly I see where I came from and where I�ve been brought to
and now I understand blest Lord how my journey led to You.
Dissatisfied with living, my soul afraid of dying
happiness eluded me and I simply gave up trying.
I kept a �mental� record though of acts I thought were �sin�
misunderstood contrition kept me starting over again.
The battle twixt my heart and mind, my flesh and yes my soul
were ragings same from the hearts of man, foretold so long ago.
Too many years were wasted Lord, so many years undone
until that hour with awesome power Your touch came from above.
My knees grew weak beneath me then I fell upon my face
this soul cried out for mercy � You poured out amazing grace.
You wonder what the difference was and why it took such length
for me to come to the knowledge of my Savior�s love and strength?
When pride and independence share an unforgiving heart
God will wait until we�re broken and our lives have come apart.
Then when we�re at our weakest and within is left no pride
and willingly give the fight up for self-righteousness inside,
do we become the clay from which the Father can then mold
a new heart from the broken one; give you glories yet untold.
Jesus o my Jesus! Heav�nly Father�s beloved Son
in You, alone, all Truth indwells, Yahweh The Righteous One.
Blessed Hope, Immanuel, ever-holy �I AM� come �
this world no longer holds my heart, just the years I left undone.
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Often when I'm alone and tired
When as a child I was tutored
Rev'rently singing those old hymns
I never understood back then
Still, in a quiet yet peaceful hour
needing rest both body and soul
my thoughts sometime drift backward
to a time so long ago
in the ways of a merciful God
by a meek old-fashioned preacher
in the church just down the road
"How Great Thou Art", "Amazing Grace"
amidst a congregation small
dear souls running their own race
how easily I might forget
as years rolled by to wait for none
how much those mem'ries have meant
though life's burdens weigh my soul
I walk that path again dear Lord
to the church just down the road
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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No complacent thoughts shall bind me
That once I was all with'ring blooms
So content to be unscented
And then a stirring in my roots
Strong and stately cradled o'er me
Slowly full-faced blossoms searching
And now I flourish in the strength
nor bitter life regrets
to overshadow what is pure
and cause me to forget
shut up into myself
no interest in the sun's warm touch
life-giving dew repelled
no human touch to fear
eyes' search for beauty would not fall
upon my drying tears
not felt within my stem
caused me to open just one bloom
to gaze upon a limb
protecting all from winds
that would scatter failing matter
unguarded 'neath its bend
opening wide for view
beheld an awesome mighty oak
with guarding limbs askew
that mighty oak provides
dedication's constant drink
within this flow'r resides
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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A Holy God looked down upon creation,
Compassion's love was purposed in His heart,
His sinless Son He sent to all who thirsted,
To undeserving souls He did impart.
A Holy God saw Jesus� gift to masses,
as He healed and raised the dead from Satan's power,
Discip�ling men of faith to travel onward,
Knowing Jesus' time would reach its hour.
A Holy God heard voices in pained anguish;
The cries of souls now drowning in fear�s mire,
Then in winged vial of comfort placed His Spirit,
And poured it down from Heaven as fresh fire.
A Holy God commanded winds and darkness,
To mark the passing life of His Dear Son,
With one last cry from Jesus, it was over,
Eternity's last battle had been won!
A Holy God, impassioned, called forth Jesus;
Victoriously arose our conquering Lord!
All chains that would bind mankind now were broken,
And sanctified our praise forever more.
Agape Love! Agape Love, how wondrous!
A Holy God sealed fast our souls that day,
In Faith and Hope and Love we kneel before Him,
... A Holy God through Jesus paid our way!
�2005, Eve Thornton
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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