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Posts Tagged ‘praise’

They followed Him by thousands when he took some fish and bread
And a banquet in the desert by His miracle was spread.
They sang aloud, “Hosanna!” and they shouted, “Praise His name!”
When in an hour of glory to Jerusalem He came.
They followed when He told them of a kingdom and a throne,
But when He went to Calvary, He went there all alone.

It seems that many people still would follow Him today
If He only went to places where everything was gay.
For the kingdom that they’re seeking isn’t one the world scorns.
And the crown of which they’re singing isn’t one that’s made of thorns.
Oh, they’ll follow for the fishes over land and over sea,
And they’ll join the church at Zion, but not at Calvary.

It’s so easy, friends, to follow when the nets are full of fish,
When the loaves are spread before you and you’re eating all you wish.
When no lands, nor lots, nor houses and no friendships are at stake,
When there’s no mob to mock you and you have no cross to take.
But you’ll need some faith to follow down through Gethsemane,
And you’ll need some love to follow up to Calvary!

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For The Meeting Of The Massachusetts
…………….Medical Society, 1859
…….[In honor of Dr. Jacob Bigelow]

‘T is sweet to fight our battles o’er,
And crown with honest praise
The gray old chief, who strikes no more
The blow of better days.

Before the true and trusted sage
With willing hearts we bend,
When years have touched with hallowing age
Our Master, Guide, and Friend.

For all his manhood’s labor past,
For love and faith long tried,
His age is honored to the last,
Though strength and will have died.

But when, untamed by toil and strife,
Full in our front he stands,
The torch of light, the shield of life,
Still lifted in his hands,

 

No temple, though its walls resound

With bursts of ringing cheers,

Can hold the honors that surround

His manhood’s twice-told years!

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for the fair at Chicago – 1865

O God! in danger’s darkest hour,
In battle’s deadliest field,
Thy name has been our Nation’s tower,
Thy truth her help and shield.

Our lips should fill the air with praise,
Nor pay the debt we owe,
So high above the songs we raise
The floods of mercy flow.

Yet Thou will hear the prayer we speak,
The song of praise we sing, –
Thy children, who thine altar seek
Their grateful gifts to bring.

Thine altar is the sufferer’s bed,
The home of woe and pain,
The soldier’s turfy pillow, red
With battle’s crimson rain.

No smoke of burning stains the air,
No incense-clouds arise;
Thy peaceful servants, Lord, prepare
A bloodless sacrifice.

Lo! for our wounded brothers’ need,
We bear the wine and oil;
For us they faint, for us they bleed,
For them our gracious toil!

O Father, bless the gifts we bring!
Cause Thou thy face to shine,
Till every nation owns her King,
And all the earth is thine.

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Chameleons can paint themselves away
Into the colored canvas where they lie
Until they are a needle in the hay,
Until they are an outline to the eye.

An actress who’s the greatest in her class,
Who pours herself into the part she plays
And fills it like pure water fills a glass
So disappears, to ev’rybody’s praise.

The one becomes another not a twin.
The first has died to give the second life
By slipping into a disparate skin
With tailor’s ease or with a surgeon’s knife.

The face of Meryl Streep can still be seen
In parts she plays, but she’s not on the screen.

——————————————————

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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.As You Live Is As You Die

To hear a fun’ral service done –
How praised is the departed one –
You’d think this earth had never held
A devil, and none ever dwelled
Here in the form of mortal men,
And all were free of any sin.

For burial, the body’s cleaned;
So, too, the nastiness is gleaned
By relatives and saddened friends
And through the washer’s many spins,
Till reputation’s made so pure,
You’d never know ‘twas once manure.

It seems that some confusion reigns
Within our sad heart-broken brains.
So when someone has bought the farm,
We think there’s been a great reform.
Death means you are not here (you ain’t)) –
Not that you’re suddenly a saint.

So Death gets more than it is due
By those whose lives have been made blue.
When sickle swings that final day,
Death cannot carve all sins away.
Instead, Death comes with lock and key
And seals the logs eternally.

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