FAVORITE POEMS
TIED DOWN "They tie you down," a woman said, whose cheeks should have been flaming red, with shame to speak of children so. "When babies come you cannot go in search of pleasure with your friends, And all your happy wandering ends. The things you like, you cannot do for babies make a slave of you." I looked at her and said, "Tis true that children make a slave of you, and tie you down with many a knot, But have you ever thought of what it is of happiness and pride that little babies have you tied? Do you not miss the greater joys that come with little girls and boys? They tie you down to laughter rare, to hours of smiles and hours of care, to nights of watching and to fears-- Sometimes they tie you down to tears, and then repay you with a smile that makes your troubles all worth while. They tie you fast to chubby feet, and cheeks of pink and kisses sweet. They fasten you with chords of love to God divine who reigns above, they tie you whereso'er you roam unto the little place called home. And over sea or railroad track they tug at you and bring you back. The happiest people in the town are those that babies have tied down. Oh, go your selfish way and free, but hampered I would rather be, yes, rather than a kingly crown I would be what you term 'tied down.' Tied to dancing eyes and charms, held fast by chubby dimpled arms, The fettered slave of girl and boy and win from them earth's finest joy." Edgar A. Guest 1881-1959His be the Victor's name
Who fought the fight alone;
Triumphant saints no honour claim,
His conquest was their own. By weakness and defeat
He won the glorious crown;
Trod all His foes beneath His feet
By being trodden down. He Satan's power laid low;
Made sin He sin o'erthrew;
Bowed to the grave, destroyed it so,
And death by dying slew. Bless, bless the Conqueror slain,
Slain in His victory;
Who lived, who died, who lives again -
For thee, His church, for thee! Whitlock Gandy
Keep me little and unknown,
Loved and prized by Christ alone. Charles Wesley 1707-1788
THE BOXES I have in my hands two boxes
Which God gave me to hold.
He said, "Put all your sorrows in the black,
And all your joys in the gold."
I heeded His words, and in the two boxes
Both my joys and sorrows I store,
But though the gold became heavier each day
The black was as light as before.
With curiosity, I opened the black
I wanted to find out why
And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole
Which my sorrows had fallen out by.
I showed the hole to God, and mused aloud,
"I wonder where my sorrows could be."
He smiled a gentle smile at me.
"My child, they're all here with me."
I asked, "God, why give me the boxes,
Why the gold, and the black with the hole?"
"My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings,
the black is for you to let go." Author Unknown