LET IT RAIN

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DEWDROPS OF REFRESHMENT

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FISH LEGS

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I know about fish fingers

They are a tasty bite to eat

You can have them with bread and butter

It all goes down a treat

 

Have them with chips if you want

The taste it surely lingers

There is nothing fishy about them

You can always count on fingers

 

But fish legs are another thing

Can you order them in two's or threes

Do they come with a full leg

Complete with knobbly knees

 

I can imagine some old trout

With fishnet stockings on

Walking down the road

It's something to think upon

 

Professor Moore of intellect

Versed in fishy things

Says he has them boneless

Along with chicken wings

 

I mind frying eels

They wriggled as they fried

I wonder if fish legs do the same

But them I've never tried

 

They say they come from an octupus

But is it really a fish

Don't care one way or the other

I wouldn't have it on my dish

 

Do the legs come with a foot

More information if you please

And if it was on my supper plate

Would it play football with my peas

 

Now I have just googled

Don't want to seem a cod

But have just learned it's not a fish

It's a great big cephalopod

 

It's legs are really arms

I counted they had but eight

I don't really care about that

It still wont be on my plate

 

There are soles that are fish you know

Maybe they have big feet

Fingers legs or arms

They all seem good to eat

 

None would be out of plaice

Boiled in a saucepan with a lid

They don't really cost too much

You would get them for a few squid

 

Now all this talk of fish

Has made me think of One

Who called to Himself some fishermen

To follow Him God's Son

 

He said He would make them fishers of men

Take scales from blinded eyes

Open up the ears of sinners

Free them from the devil's lies

 

As He tasked them to preach His Gospel

Like all His followers should do

We all have a net to cast

He made fishermen of me and you

 

To carry on this theme I have started

If we are successful in our task

We will have a harvest of souls in Heaven

If we obey what Jesus did as

I NEED

I need to take your hand o Lord

To walk in nature's wonder

To satisfy my artist heart

In the scenery that you paint

Here there and yonder

 

The blueness of the sky above

The clouds that dance along

The hills that kiss them

And the valleys spread

Give my heart a song

 

The verdant green how you mix

The colour for the grass

Of spread out field

And leaf of tree

Your brushwork is first class

 

Dip your paintbrush in green and blue

Spread it on the ocean wide

The yellow tinted haze

Of beach and sand

That is rolled over with the tide

 

I need to take your hand o Lord

To walk among the flowers

To satisfy my gardener's heart

In the hedgerows of the country

Or the daisy strewn fields

In them let me spend my hours

 

The lily of the valley

The pink and purple rose

The beauty of each petal

Of some lowly buttercup

Smiling at my toes

 

I need to take your hand o Lord

To walk in melody sweet

To satisfy my musicians heart

In the love song of a bird

Or bees with gentle hum

And the little cricket chirping at my feet

 

Listen to the running water

That babbles in a stream

Gurgling over stones

There on its primrose sides

I could lie in pleasant dream

 

I need to take your hand o Lord

For with no other I would stroll

To satisfy my every need

Down life's road you are the one

Who brings all the joys to my life

And everything that fills my soul

 

A CHAT IN THE GARDEN

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Good morning God we meet again

In our garden of delight

I thank you for the beautiful morning

And for the sun shining bright

Maybe child much later on

I will send you a little rain

To freshen up all things that grow

Its for their good so don't complain

I wont dear Lord for I have learned

You send sun and rain to make things grow

And if I work all morning here

I will need a little rest you know

But now Lord I need to weed

I often wonder why you made so many

But my child you are on your knees

You wouldn't be there if I didn't send any

There you can send me a little prayer

As you work to clear the soil

Do not rush and take it slow

We have time to chat while you toil

Yes Lord I love to hear your voice

Mingled with the sweet bird song

Such truths you whisper in my ear

As I slowly work along

Here is the lovely lily Lord

I planted some years ago

Yes, my Son is likened on to it

The fairest of the valley you know

Those roses over there

That grow in yonder bed

The white one speaks of purity

And there is one that is blood red

You remember my son He died

And shed His blood for you

Like that tree towering in your garden

Was one His body knew

Lord I am so glad I am on my knees

As you remind me of all that was done

So I can thank you once again

For giving your only Son

I remember He prayed in a garden

Sweat like blood drops fell

He knew He was going to the cross

To save my soul from hell

No wonder I love the garden Lord

It brings me closer to you

The beauty of all its flowers

Bring joy to my heart as I view

My child you love its beauty

Your heart I made pure and true

So I know you will appreciate all the wonders

In the place I have prepared for you

When I call you home you will be ready

To take the upward flight

Where the glories you will see in Heaven

Will fill your heart with delight

But now go and rest my child

You have worked hard the last few hours

But I am going to open the clouds

To send you a few needed showers

Thank you Lord for our chat

For your love to me and your pardon

Tomorrow we will do this again

As we meet in our beautiful garden

 

THE BABBLING BROOK

 

I sat today by the gently babbling brook

Its liquid voice singing so clear

It's melody sweeping over the pebbles and stone

Whispering its story into my ear

Sheltered, my rest under an old oak tree

My eyes on the water running by

The shade of the bough closed me in

From the glare of the sun in a clear blue sky

Countless times the waters of the gentle stream

Have washed the pebbles and stones held below

Their roughness and hard edges all smoothed away

By the babbling brook and her constant flow

I know of a stream where I once plunged in

Bathed in the liquid running so red

Where my sins were washed away in a moment of time

Now I lie to be smoothed like the stones in the bed

The sweet ripple of the brook is like unto my Saviour

Soothing my soul with His gentle voice

Like the stream of life flowing from His mountain

The babbling brook causes me to rejoyce

Oh babbling brook may you ever flow

Your singing waters sweep over your bed

Until I rest some day in God's heaven

Where the river of life will flow there instead

THE MISSION

The mission is over the preacher is silent

The church is locked up and closed is the door

No music from the organ no singing from the pews

Sinners and saints dont come any more

The warning of hell from the pulpit was preached

The need to be saved was spoken loud and plain

Yet many a sinner hardened more their heart

The seed of the gospel perhaps planted in vain

Yet much rejoicing for the souls that were saved

Blessing for saints coming from above

As they prayed for loved ones sincerely each night

And God answered prayer in mercy and love

How sinner friend did you reject the mercy call

Rejected the Saviours blood as you left every night

Knowing He might not call you ever again

And your relationship with Him will never be right

The mission is over but the work will go on

To gather the harvest in from the field

We will pray and preach and witness to sinners

Knowing God in His mercy will give us the yield

We were blessed we were challenged we wept and we cried

We asked for conviction for sinners to be made whole

Now the mission is over we will ponder what was done

And still cast out the lifeline to each perishing soul

 

THE OLD HOME

 

I knew your age was old

A hundred years or more

I remember your roof of thatch

And the red painted wooden door

Heavy stones built your walls

White washed a snowy white

Your windows set at front and back

To let in a little light

I remember the open hearth

A peat fire burning aglow

The icicles hanging from the thatch

When the winter brought frost and snow

A tiley lamp hanging from the ceiling

Its mantle burning warm and bright

Or the oil lamps set in the bedrooms

lit up to brighten the night

A chaff mattress to sleep on

The old walls damp and wet

Though a fire warmed the living room

The bedrooms were never het

You were basic my dear old home

No running water to a tap

The howling winds would blow at you

And crept through ever gap

Of course things changed through the years

A Wellstood stove stood to cook upon

My father took of your roof

And all your thatch was burnt and gone

Now the rain it beat upon the tin

Or hailstones rattled there

All of the family could speak of you

And many memories share

But I could never stop writing

If I shared all the tales of home

And this prose I am penning

Would be a never ending poem

But my heart now aches with pain

For I watched a digger one day

Load you into trailers

And they took you all away

Not a stone of you they left

It's as if you were never there

The place where you stood

So empty now and bare

Old house we knew no better

You were never a mansion grand

But you were home to all of us

This rag taggle Moffett band

I fancy that our bodies

Are buildings made of clay

Creaking now and old

And we will lay them down some day

The world will look for us

Our faces to gaze upon

But all they will see is nothing

For our bodies will all be gone

But also I know in my heart

A new body will be given one day

And a mansion it is waiting

When God calls us away

Old home we loved you

How heartbreaking was your end

But a glorious home is waiting for me

When to Heaven I shall ascend

OH THE PEACE

Oh the peace oh the joy

oh the happiness in my soul

the Lord came in, saved from sin

now my life He has made whole

want to shout it, may I sing it

wanting now to give it voice

my total glee, Jesus saving me

let my words flow as I rejoyce

Thank you Lord, thank you so

thank you for your work of grace

I only know and this is so

in you I have a resting place

Give you thanks, give You praise

of salvation I want to tell

how it came in your name

now with my soul all is well

You are mine I am yours

for eternity that will never cease

washed in the blood, that crimson flood

such total joy and oh the peace

 

SLOWING DOWN

I skipped upon the feet of childhood

And rested not all the day

Then youthful times came along

And bountiful energy did not asway

Middle age with slower gait

Soon followed close behind

Then in these days of olden years

No energy can I find

I wonder where the years have gone

Those that slipped so quickly by

And realise now with awful thought

Just how old am I!

Dear Lord I have so wasted years

When I had much more zest

To work for you my Saviour friend

And given you my best

Now my race is nearly run

No more time to toil

Then someone with measured stride

Will carry me to the soil

Yes skip you may then stride along

Then shuffle your slow feet

Then be carried though you know not

In a coffin going up the street