Date: Mar 28 2000 06:53:56 EST
Subject: What is in his hand?
..........What is in his hand?..........
The preacher before us now takes his stand,
But wait -- what is that he holds in his hand?
It's not the Bible -- so, what will he preach?
Without the Scriptures lost souls he won't reach!
He quotes from the scholars, wise men indeed,
But scholarly preaching's not what we need.
He tells of great men who once lived below:
But they're not the ones of whom we must know!
Sad, death-bed stories bring tears to his eyes,
Such he keeps telling 'til ev'ryone cries;
But death-bed stories will not take away
Our sin, or fit us for God's Judgment Day!
Such preaching falls sweetly upon man's ears,
And though well received by the one who hears --
Still lacks it the power to save from sin:
Cleanse and make whole -- a new creature within.
We simply need preachers who "preach the word"
The sweetest story, by far, ever heard!
Fear not to offer Book, Chapter and Verse,
As you the story of Jesus rehearse;
Be kind, be loving -- But, friend, please beware:
The purpose of preaching is to prepare --
So give them the Gospel, 'tis God's Power,
It, only, will fit them for that hour!
Preach to them the Gospel -- be not afraid!
The price for their sins the Savior has paid:
We shed not our blood, we have not the right
To alter the message of heav'nly Light.
Lift up the Savior, tell all of his deeds,
He has the power to meet all our needs!
The life-giving blood came from Him, not you:
He, alone, has power to see them through.
To the left or the right turn not, my friend,
Then you will prepare men to meet their end.
Preacher, when it comes time for you to stand
Before us: be sure you have in your hand
The Bible -- and from it fail not to preach:
Thus with the Scriptures lost souls you will reach!
............H.L. Gradowith
March 27, 2000. I am a preacher, and I do believe
that the preaching we do is pointless unless it is
Bible-based. Give them what God wants them to
have: Thus saith the Lord.... Tim Smith
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Archive for Gradowith Poems: Message #12
Date: Mar 29 2000 14:38:57 EST
Subject: The Lord's Supper
..........The Lord's Supper..........
In the juice and in the bread
There our hearts and minds are led
To the awful price our Savior had to pay.
How He died to set men free,
Evil, then, was forced to flee,
He had won the greatest battle that sad day.
From His veins the blood came forth,
None His precious life was worth:
Still, in mercy, "Father forgive" He did pray.
In His hands and in His feet
Rugged nails the mob did beat:
At the pain and agony He did not sway.
He from heaven did come down
To this world, without renown;
All our troubles, all our fears: to thus allay.
He for us did pay the price,
He His all did sacrifice,
And from heaven God's great love He did relay.
Though the Son of God was He,
From this death He did not flee:
But to Calvary He walked -- God to obey.
To the ones He died to save,
Died to rescue from the grave,
He, in love, sends out the call -- O, come today!
In the juice and in the bread,
There our hearts and minds are led:
To the awful price our Savior had to pay.
..........H.L. Gradowith..........
3-8-97
Partaking of the Lord's Supper is special. It is a time to remember
all
of these things, and more! Never allow yourself to merely eat the
cracker
and drink the grape juice: We are remembering what Jesus did for
us back
then, thinking about our lives and whether they are fit now, and looking
forward to His return in the end. Tim Smith
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Archive for Gradowith Poems: Message #13
Date: Mar 30 2000 08:30:45 EST
Subject: Death
This one is very long, and it was one of the first ones H.L. Gradowith
wrote. It lacks polish in many ways, and represents a struggle --
though
one may wonder at points just where he is going, in the end it turns out
right. It deals with the mortality of men, the futility of life,
the
fears of the unknown, and the hope of the Christian for victory in the
end. We see in it a man who, though endeavoring to be faithful, struggles
with imperfection and weakness. I hope you enjoy it.
..........Death..........
I stand at last at Ebon Door,
Comes times for me to die;
The paths of men I'll walk no more:
No doubts, no fears have I.
For many years within this cage
The battles I have fought;
From strength of youth to stoop of age:
It all comes now to naught.
Accomplishments, rewards and such,
Now seem so meaningless;
Back then, what seemed to mean so much
Is gone with death's caress.
I cherish still the memory
Of all that's gone before;
I wonder, will it go with me
To death's cold, silent shore?
Will I then know the things I did?
The people I have met?
The things I saw? The things I said?
Or, will I then forget?
And if I know what went before,
When on the other side,
Will it bring peace? or, troubles sore?
A bridge? or, chasm wide?
And if a bridge -- to what and when?
Will I then long return
To this low land of strife and sin?
For that will my heart yearn?
I wonder now, when I have passed,
Will those who knew me here
Still see the shadow my life cast?
Will they still hold me dear?
At holidays, when all are there,
Safe home with loved ones true;
Will thoughts of me be anywhere?
Will I be there with you?
Will I have left my mark in stone,
In ways that all can see?
Or, was my life for me alone,
Will my works die with me?
I'll walk no more in cool of day,
Nor feel the falling rain;
I'll smell no more the fresh cut hay,
But heaven's crown I'll gain.
I'll punch no clock, obey no man,
The Lord my steps direct;
Day ends as sweet as it began,
No stoop -- my back erect.
I wonder if I'll laugh up there,
Or sing, or play, or dance?
Will there be troubles anywhere?
Is death a game of chance?
I said at first no doubts have I,
I stood devoid of fear ----
I said I stood prepared to die,
Prepared to leave from here...
I think my soul prepared to leave,
Although I do not know
Just what my soul will then receive:
Above, or down below.
I guess in death, unlike in life,
Each man stands all alone;
Should we find peace, or, fearful strife:
Our fate will be our own.
No mighty men, exalted high,
There'll be no rich or poor;
There'll come a time when all will die:
When all pass through death's door.
If you would hear Him say, "Well done,
The race for you is through;
The prize you've gained, the life-crown won"
To Him you must be true.
Your riches, power, health and might,
Will be to you no aid;
The Lord will be your strength and light,
In Him be not afraid.
When comes the time for you to die,
To loved ones bid adieu;
To say to all below, "Good bye,"
Will Christ be there for you?
Have you so lived, while in this cage,
To glorify His name?
A God of peace, a God of rage:
But One God still the same.
He longs to give you life above,
Love, mercy, grace and peace;
Believe, obey, and serve in love,
He will your soul release.
Your ev'ry care, your ev'ry strife,
His blood will wash away;
The Victory comes not in life:
But past the Judgment Day!
With confidence our death to face,
Like men who march to war;
We know that we shall win the race,
When we have reached that shore.
Despite the doubts that plague us, then,
When facing Ebon's door;
From fears without, and fears within,
We press on evermore.
There must be more than meets the eye,
In store for mortal men;
I guess to know, we'll have to die:
The journey to begin.
..........H.L. Gradowith..........
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Archive for Gradowith Poems: Message
#14
Date: Apr 01 2000 08:09:32 EST
Subject: The Battle
..........The Battle..........
The one who thinks himself secure,
Protected from this world's allure,
To him, says Paul, Beware, take heed:
Of saving grace you still have need!
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
To think one stands is not the chore,
Your duty here requires much more:
To think is part of what we do --
The rest: To be forever true.
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
There'll come a time, in ev'ry life,
When we will weaken 'neath the strife,
We may begin to question then
Our strength to overcome the sin:
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
When comes that time: stand tall, be strong,
And keep yourself from ev'ry wrong,
To Him who takes away all care
Then humbly turn in fervent prayer:
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
When all with you is going well,
Do not forget the devil's hell
That waits for those who leave their Lord
And by neglect forget His Word:
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
Take time to think of where you've been,
And all the years you've lived in sin,
Of how much Christ has meant to you,
And how He always sees you through:
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
When sickness visits those you love,
And then in death they're called above,
Your home so lonely, filled with grief,
Turn to the Lord, He brings relief!
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
When disappointments come your way,
And troubles plague you ev'ry day:
There's One who knows the pain you feel,
He longs your ev'ry wound to heal:
.....The battle's on,
.....We've not yet won.
When we have passed death's ebon door,
And landed on that Peaceful Shore:
We'll leave our pain and troubles sore
And be at rest forevermore!
.....The battle won,
.....The battle won!
..........H. L. Gradowith..........
April 14, 1997
This was written on the anniversary of the birth of Leland R. Gray, the
"L" in the poet's name. He was instrumental in encouraging me to
preach,
seeing to it that schooling was available to me, and in general directing
me in the way I should go. Tim Smith
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Archive for Gradowith Poems: Message #15
Date: Apr 03 2000 11:17:14 EDT
Subject: Why???
..........Why???..........
Why do we do the things we do,
The things we know are wrong?
Our life on earth will soon be through,
Eternity's so long!
Can we not stay, while here below,
Awake and heed His call?
Can we not stop when he says, No:
Can we not give our all?
Yes, we can live to please the Lord,
While here on earth we dwell;
If we but take Him at His Word,
With us all can be well!
To sacrifice and live the way
That leads to Heav'n on high
May seem to us a burden great:
A life just lived to die...
But in the fairer region there,
Where with the Lord I'll dwell:
No pain, no troubles anywhere:
With joy my heart shall swell!
It's up to us, we make the choice,
While here on earth below;
To turn away, or hear His voice,
As on our way we go.
To those who hear He gives the light
That points the way to Heav'n;
He rescues them -- dispels all fright:
Their sins are all forgiv'n.
To those who turn away their ear,
In disbelief rebel:
From life their soul He soon will shear:
They'll have their home in Hell.
Why do we, then, the things we do,
When we know they are wrong?
Turn to the Lord, He'll see you through:
We'll not live here for long...
..........H. L. Gradowith..........
3-24-97
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