Monday, September 25, 2017

Hymn of Humble Praise

Lord, move from heart to mouth pure praise
For Goodness from Your Hand
Help us to trust love’s higher ways
When we don’t understand

Your mercy ushers from mere seed
Harvest; the farmer’s goal
It provides bread for body’s need
But for the sinner’s soul

…You sent Jesus, Your only Son
A pleading sacrifice
Nailed to the cross, for everyone
Perfection paid sin’s price

Then let the earth ring with love’s song
You died in our place
When we are weak; God, You are strong
You fill our need with grace

As far as east is from the west
God, you remove man’s sin
The fathom of your love so vast
Thought cannot take it in

With honor and obedience
You did Your holy part
Pray we with faith and reverence
Believe with wholly heart

Your gift of grace no one can earn
Thus with our gift of days
Let us, in all we do, return
Love’s hymn of humble praise

© Janet Martin

Shout joyfully to the LORD, all the earth;
            Break forth and sing for joy and sing praises. Ps.98:4

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Most 'Mustful' Matter or Dust-must

Be we peasant, prince, poor, wealthy
Born to rule the roost or slave
Whether weak or strong and healthy
Whether cowardly or brave
Whether lack-a-daisy lazy
Whether driven by high goal
Short or lanky, cranky, crazy
Each of us harbors a soul

Whether we choose to believe it
Or ignore this Truth within
No one is above, beneath it;
In this little skiff of skin
Whether rich or poor in spirit
Born to lay clay bricks, play ball
Someday everyone will hear it
And answer an Awesome Call

Whether we work, thirst for pleasure
Mine for treasure that soon fails
Eternity, none can measure
When its fathom, death unveils
Pray, no matter status, station
Whether of fat calf or crust
In the God of our salvation
Pray that we have placed our trust

© Janet Martin

Ecclesiastes 2:1-7
 Remember your Creator
    in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
    and the years approach when you will say,
    “I find no pleasure in them”— 
 before the sun and the light
    and the moon and the stars grow dark,
    and the clouds return after the rain; 
 when the keepers of the house tremble,
    and the strong men stoop,
when the grinders cease because they are few,
    and those looking through the windows grow dim; 
 when the doors to the street are closed
    and the sound of grinding fades;
when people rise up at the sound of birds,
    but all their songs grow faint;
 when people are afraid of heights
    and of dangers in the streets;
when the almond tree blossoms
    and the grasshopper drags itself along
    and desire no longer is stirred.
Then people go to their eternal home
    and mourners go about the streets.

 Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,
    and the golden bowl is broken;
before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
    and the wheel broken at the well, 
 and the dust returns to the ground it came from,
    and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

Friday, September 22, 2017

Awesome Autumn...(and an oldie repost of Ode to the Apple)

Happy First Day of Autumn, everyone!
Right now we are having more summer-like weather than we did all summer!!
...turning the apples I was planning to 'applesauce' next week into a Must for today

Because none of us knows if this will be our last
first day of fall,let's make it a good best one, 'kay?
(recently this community has had a few sudden, grim reminders of how volatile life is)

  (see Ode to the Apple rerun below) it begins; earth's Awesome undoing

Carpet of cricket-song covers the land
Colors coordinate ‘neath High Command
Carmine, magenta, sienna, gold, tan
Vision is awed by God’s Masterpiece plan

Plum, pink, peach, persimmon, purple, earth’s grief
Tossed to the tress of deciduous leaf
Nature’s grand Magnum Opus is unfurled
We watch God, awed by autumn’s wonder-world

Treetops like beacons against azure blue
Stirs us to worship; ah, we must choose Who
I choose the Maestro of earth’s orchestra
Tuning thought’s tempest with ultimate awe

Carpet of crackle beneath our feet
Farewell, a sparkle of red bittersweet
Here on a heath of demise we applaud
Death; Awed by Beauty of each breath of God

Humbly we harvest the fruit of the field
Mercy-filled seed-pods burgeon with hope’s yield
Orchard bends earthward, so too sprig and vine
Hungry hearts awed by God’s Supreme design

© Janet Martin

Ode to the Apple

Apple cakes
Apple tarts,
Apple crumble
Apple crisp
Apple muffins
Apple salads
Apple fritter
Apples dipped
Apple jelly
Apple butter
Apple loaf
With apple tea
Apple grunts
And apple goodie
Fit enough
For royalty
Apple strudel
Apple Danish
Apple stuffing
Apple flan
Apple dumpling
Apple stewed
Apple sauce
Poured from a can
Apple wine
Apple cider
Apple roll-ups
Apple pies
Apple cheese-cake
Apple trifle
Apples for a snow-man’s eyes
Apple Brown-betty
Apple pan-dowdy
Apple torte
And apple pared
Apple cobbler
Apples sliced, or dried
In squares
Apples baked
With cinnamon-sugar
Apples on a Christmas tree
Tell me is there any other
Fruit with such versatility?
Re-posting an oldie because it's applesauce-making day...

Thursday, September 21, 2017

September Gold

September's free-for-all gold glory-days surely deserves a bitty poem!
Good-bye, my sweet, sweet beloved summer...
Hello, darling fall;-)

With gilt of gold September weaves
A fragile quilt of gathered sheaves
Of golden rod and burnished leaves
And we all pause to stare
At nature’s wealth so freely spread
Across the heath that harbors dead
And drinks the tears of faith and dread
A gorgeous thoroughfare

…where beauty will not cease its cause
As seasons adhere to earth’s laws
And even misers must applause
Her resplendent demise
Lavish, the dress of common days
Enshrouded in bold, golden haze
Before merlot and scarlet blaze
Seduces our eyes

What treasure this, September gold
Where none can hoard but all behold
Her grandeur as sweet summer folds
Into autumn with ease
Where soon fond frenzy of farewell
Will flame upon the hill, the dell
A vault that cups the leaf-shaped knell
Of spilled-gold memories

© Janet Martin


Sometimes I almost stagger beneath the intensity of flashbacks as Time almost repeats itself...
A Glimpse at our celebration of the last day of summer...
(kinda like it used to be when the little ones were my own)

Ball bounces;
Beauty is boyish and boisterous
Curl flounces;
Cutie is girlish and sweet
Mom announces
Time for supper
Door slams,
Floor rings with hymns of bare feet
Time is a dog nipping at their heels
Gladness is knowing how heaven on earth feels
Ball bounces;
Boy is nowhere to be seen
Curl flounces;
Girl is seventeen

© Janet Martin 

 I was looking for an old post of Matt bouncing the basket-ball but I couldn't find it :(
that's the worst thing about this blog, 
even with labels it is sometimes/often impossible to find an oldie!