..........Mem'ry..........

            I've many friends who've gone before
            And crossed the chilly distant shore,
            And though their form I see no more
            Their precious mem'ry I adore.

            When the curtain falls on the day
            And it is swallowed up by night,
            My thoughts begin to drift away
            And those old friends are back in sight!

            I hear their voices, see their form,
            It's as though I am young again;
            They strengthen me to face the storm,
            And offer shelter from the rain.

            They are healthy, well, and alive,
            Unaffected by many years;
            They show me that I can survive,
            There's joy beyond this veil of tears!

            I've many friends who've gone before
            And crossed the chilly distant shore,
            And though their form I see no more
            Their precious mem'ry I adore!

            .....H. L. Gradowith.....

..........He Lives On In Our Hearts..........

            They gathered 'round his coffin,
                 Grief tears did fill their eyes;
            They knew they'd miss him often,
                 They said their last good-byes.

            In life he'd served his nation,
                 A soldier brave and true;
            Your mem'ry now his station,
                 He stands on guard for you.

            When sorrows come, and trouble,
                 You'll think then of his life;
            Your strength he will redouble,
                 He'll see you through the strife.

            He would not have you crying,
                 He'd hate to see you weep;
            Don't think, then, of his dying:
                 Just think him sound asleep.

            Remember all the good days,
                 Sweet times of joy and peace;
            Recall his tender, kind ways --
                 This will your grief release.

            At times -- when sad and lonely,
                 By death so torn apart:
            But think then of him only,
                 He'll live then in your heart.

            ...............H. L. Gradowith...............

            This was written March 12, 1997 in memory of Francis George Bosze.  He was
            a retired military officer when he passed from this life.  I would think
            it adaptable to others, feel free to use it as you will.  Tim

..........TRUTH AND THE FOOL..........

             1
             The facts! say you?
             Could it be true
             That we must be agreed?
             On what is what,
             And what is not,
             To be from our sins freed?

             2
             Is there no room
             For doom and gloom
             When you say things are well?
             When I am glad
             And you are mad
             Will I then go to hell?

             3
             Should I say, "That
             Is surely flat,"
             And you say, "It is round,"
             How can we know
             Which way is so?
             Can Truth by us be found?

             4
             Some things we see
             Are easily
             By all men understood;
             But some we find
             Call to the mind
             Doubts as to what is good:

             5
             For Truth we seek
             All through the week --
             We try with all our might:
             Then comes our way
             Some fool to say:
             All is not black and white!

             6
             He scoffs and sneers
             As Judgment nears
             He on himself relies;
             And all his days
             In all his ways
             He God's own Truth denies!

             7
             "We can't," says he,
             "The one way see,
             So do as your heart deems;
             If it please you
             It must be true:
             For all's not as it seems!"

             8
             If I can't know
             Which way to go
             No matter how I try;
             If I've no choice,
             If I've no voice --
             What of these tears I cry?

             9
             If Truth is not --
             No matter what,
             If I can ne'er be sure
             Of what is wrong,
             My whole life long:
             Then, nothing here is pure.

             10
             What should I care?
             And why beware?
             Just headlong should I rush!!!
             From modesty
             I should be free --
             Why take the time to blush?

             11
             If ever "blind"
             Then, never mind!
             There's no such thing as sin:
             Just live and die
             Don't reason why:
             Just animals, we men!

             12
             And why the courts?
             The legal sorts?
             Why should we need a jail?
             They did not choose
             Their way to lose --
             Why, they were bound to fail!

             13
             So when they go
             And cause us woe
             They've really done their best;
             Let's just retire
             That godly ire
             And count ourselves as blessed!

             14
             For if in life,
             These years of strife,
             They cannot know what's right:
             They cannot choose
             To win or lose:
             They cannot see the light!

             15
             And "light" devoid
             They can't avoid
             Whate'er in life they do;
             They have no voice,
             They make no choice:
             They cannot be untrue...

             16
             For if they had
             No way but bad
             They just obeyed the rule!
             And all my tears
             Through all these years --
             Oh, how I've played the fool!

             17
             Why punish one
             For what he's done
             If he could not decide?
             Without freewill
             "He" did not kill:
             He on his wits relied!

             18
             But wait, my friend,
             'Tis not the end
             Of what I have to say;
             His sight was blurred
             Who spoke that word:
             He led us from the Way.

             19
             Who says that we
             The truth can't see?
             Who gave that silly rule?
             'Tis true that he
             The Truth won't see:
             For he is but a fool!

             20
             But you and I
             Can reason why
             Though it be difficult;
             Apply your mind --
             The seekers find
             The Truth -- The Grand Result!

             21
             Turn not aside,
             Whate'er betide:
             Put all things to the test;
             The Truth hold fast,
             All else off-cast --
             'Tis then that you'll be blessed!!!

            ..........H. L. Gradowith..........

..........Preoccupied..........

            You don't hear a word I say,
            Your mind is off -- far away.
            I see the look on you face,
            Your heart's in some other place.
            But, whatever can I do?
            I must speak the truth to you;
            If I fail to speak the Word --
            When you've gone to face the Lord --
            Whatever will you do then?
            What will you do with your sin?
            I know that it might not work,
            That you your duty may shirk,
            But that doesn't change my task --
            And so, this question I ask:
            Will you not to Him give ear,
            While still He is ling'ring near?
            The time is coming, my friend,
            When you shall face your sad end:
            Too late 'twill then be to turn,
            Oh, won't you this lesson learn?

            ........H. L. Gradowith........

..........A Friend..........

            A sigh, a look, a broken heart,
                 An invitation to share
            The pain that tears the soul apart,
                 That plagues us everywhere.

            Unspoken, yet, tis no less made
                 Some things without words we say;
            When we are hurt, our hearts afraid,
                 With cares that won't go away:

            We need an arm on which to lean,
                 And a sympathetic ear;
            Someone who knows just what we mean
                 Who will always linger near.

            Not one who'll push his way into
                 The heart's most secret places;
            But one who'll be loving and true
                 With kind words and embraces.

            Such friends as this are few and far...
                 But precious treasures indeed;
            The happy heart knows where they are
                 In their darkest hours of need.

            If ever you've needed a friend
                 To help you endure the pain
            Be there, and let them on you depend
                 That's how a friend you will gain.

            ..........H. L. Gradowith..........

..........What Shall Become Of Me?..........

            Sometimes my heart feels so alone
            And all I try leaves me undone
            I look for hope, but I find none:
            What shall become of me?

            Some folks may think that I am mad
            Some others hold that I'm just sad
            At any rate, I can't get glad:
            What shall become of me?

            Like other folks I have my dreams
            But they shall not come true, it seems;
            The heartaches soar to all extremes:
            What shall become of me?

            I wander to and fro each day,
            An endless search to find the way,
            But this my fears will not allay:
            What shall become of me?

            The future I cannot now see,
            Does it hold just more misery?
            Or, shall some day my soul be free?
            What shall become of me?

            ...............H. L. Gradowith..............

..........The Good Old Days..........

            What went with the days of pleasure,
            When I was a happy young man?
            Oh, to recover that treasure!
            Alas, but we know no one can.

            I remember when life was fun,
            And all troubles seemed far away;
            But now all those good times are gone,
            Wherever did I go astray?

            It was all so simple back then,
            And less complicated by far;
            But that was before we were men:
            So distant from where we now are.

            Wouldn't it be nice to return
            And visit those times once again?
            But wait -- we would have to 're-learn'
            The lessons that came with such pain!

            And what if we found when we went
            That things were not as we recall?
            We might then those 'old times' resent:
            And find them not 'good' after all!

            Maybe we'd better just be glad
            To have things as they are right now;
            We just might not like what we had
            In those 'good old days' anyhow!

            ...........H. L. Gradowith...........

.............Don't Wait.............

            When faced with temptations and troubles and trials
                 So great that we can't go on,
            Instead of complaining and endless denials,
                 Why not come to God's Dear Son?

            Turn not to the evil one, he cannot save you,
                 Though he offer riches great;
            Only in Jesus is power to see you through:
                 Come to Him -- ere it's too late.

            The love and compassion we need to get by
                 Is not that far from our hand,
            He longs to redeem you and take you home on high,
                 Where you, with the saved, shall stand.

            What hinders you, my friend, from coming to Him,
                 You know He's the only one;
            Why wait until the light of life is growing dim?
                 Don't wait till your life is done.

            ..........H. L. Gradowith..........

 Gradowith Poem Archive

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