Peace and Love be With You Always
Spiritual poems can comfort the soul and bring messages of hope and consolation. In your time of trial, a spiritual poem can be uplifting and ease a troubled heart.
When you walk through a storm, don't be afraid, take comfort in knowing you are not alone - a spiritual poem will guide you and comfort you through troubled times.
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Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
A Child’s Thoughts on Divinity
Who is God and where is God and how can I find out?
Why is God and when is God and what is God about?
I have never seen Him, perhaps because He’s shy;
Does he live in a cathedral or a house up in the shy?
Is he like my father who goes to work each day?
Or is He much too busy hearing all the people pray?
Has He time to listen when I ask for little things?
Or does He sit upon a throne accepting gifts from kings?
I’m only such a tiny piece of all the great, wide world;
How would God know where I was, if I should tuck up, curled
Inside my own small bedroom, with the door shut very tight,
With no lamp beside me in the middle of the night?
Is He is angry when I’m naughty and pleased if I behave?
Does He know when I am frightened, though trying to be brave?
I realise I should love Him, just as the Bible said;
But still the puzzling questions are buzzing in my head–
Who is God and where is God and what is God about?
Perhaps when I am older, I’ll be able to find this out.
Along the path that lies ahead,
What shall I find there?
Shall I find a quiet spot
To medicate in prayer?
A shady bower, a peaceful nook
Tall trees along the way,
A place to read a favourite book
Where Summer breezes play?
Shall I achieve my hopes and dreams
In all that’s good and true,
And find – meandering – a stream
That winds to pastures new?
What do we seek along Life’s road
What do we hope to find?
Perhaps the greatest gift of all –
Contentment, peace of mind.
Dorothy M. Loughran
A Mother's Prayer
You must get many prayers, dear God,
That take up all your time,
But I hope some way or other
You’ll hear and answer mine.
I always say a prayer, dear God
To you, when things go wrong,
Please help me in my weakness,
Please help me to be strong.
Please give me confidence every day,
To do the things I should,
For my Husband and my family,
And help me to be good.
Please see my children through their ills,
And dry up any tears,
Always please be with them,
And see them through their years.
And when they have to leave the nest,
And go their separate ways,
Please help them, guide them, keep them safe,
Don’t let them go astray.
But if they should have bad times,
Please teach them how to smile,
Just give them all the strength to know
That life is still worthwhile.
You must get many prayers, dear God,
That take up all your time,
But I know some way or other
You’ll hear and answer mine,
Because dear God, you always have,
To help these lives we live,
And if some times I forget to thank you,
Dear God up above, Please forgive.
A Mother's Prayer for Her Child
A dear little baby, so soft and pink,
Has come into our house to stay,
So tiny and helpless, it’s hard to think
She will be a woman one day.
A little brown head, covered o’er with down,
A tiny round face so sweet,
Two small clutching hands, and beneath her gown
Hide a pair of warm rosy feet.
She makes me think of a baby small
Who was once in a manger laid,
And serenely slept in a cattle stall;
He was born of a peasant maid.
The angels sang on the night of his birth
A message of hope and cheer,
Good will among men and peace on earth,
An ending of strife and fear.
Two thousand years have since rolled by,
And today the big guns roar,
And fire and death fall from the sky,
Man groans in anguish sore.
“Tis a foolish world, little baby fair,
In which you have some to stay;
I wonder if you will do your share
To bring in a happier day?
May you see the day, little baby small,
When war shall for ever cease,
Oh Christ Child, hear us when we call,
Dear Lord, in our time, give peace!
Christmas When Dad was Young
I’ve heard of Christmas when Dad was young,
When a sock, not a pillow case was hung.
Gifts for the children were cheap, but well made,
Just a new rag doll or a bucket and spade.
When a small gum served as a Christmas tree,
And chains of paper were hung with glee;
When cakes and puddings were made, not bought,
And the coins in the pudding were eagerly sought.
The lemon syrup was made by his mum,
And the day consisted of family fun.
A walk to church began this day,
With greeting to neighbours on the way.
The poultry for dinner . . . a mouth watering treat,
Not served every day, instead of meat.
The games were simple, but everyone played,
Blind man’s Bluff, Hide and Seek, or a clever charade.
A little was over to spare for the poor,
When they brought the lit kerosene tin to the door.
Then carols and hymns after tea we sung . . .
That was Christmas when Dad was young.
Now, we’re sad if we’re home on Christmas Day,
And we envy our friends who’ve gone away.
Our gifts are valued for what they cost,
And the spirit of Christmas seems to be lost.
The table is laden with festive treats,
But with parties and rush we’re too tired to eat.
And very few go to church and pray,
To remember Christ on His birthday.
We forget in the selfish Christmas fuss,
This holiday time was for Him, not us.
So it seems to me that we’d enjoy,
A Christmas like Dad had, when he was a boy.
Though Life can oft present us
With problems day by day,
Here’s something to remember
Each step along the way–
When you start to count your blessings,
You surely must concede
The sum of all your worries
Is very small indeed.
John M. Robertson
Figure it for yourself, my lad,
You’ve all that the greatest of men have had;
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,
And a brain to use if you would be wise.
With this equipment they all began,
So start from the top and say, “I can!”
Look them over, the wise and the great,
They take their food from a common plate,
And similar knives and forks they use;
With similar laces they tie their shoes;
The world considers them brave and smart,
But you’ve all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill,
You can be great if you only will,
You’re well equipped for what fight you choose;
You have arms and legs and a brain to use,
And the man who has risen great deeds to do
Began his life with no more than you.
Youare the handicap you must face,
You are the one who must choose your place;
You must say where you want to go,
How much you will study the truth to know;
God has equipped you for life, but He
Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within,
The man must furnish the will to win;
So figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You were born with all that the great have had;
With your equipment they all began,
Get hold of yourself, and say “I can!”
And did those feet in ancient times
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon a clouded hill?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor will my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant Land.
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill;
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessing on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev’ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
I said a prayer for you today
And I know God must have heard,
I felt the answer in my heart
Although He spoke no word.
I didn’t ask for wealth or fame,
I knew you wouldn’t mind,
I asked him to send treasures
Of a far more lasting kind.
I asked that He’d be near to you
At the start of each new day,
To grant you health and blessings
And friends to share your way.
I asked for happiness for you
In all things great and small,
But it was for His Loving Care
I prayed for most of all.
The present seems all dreary,
The future very grim.
Your problems are perplexing,
Your chances rather slim.
You’re sick and tired of trying,
And hope is nearly gone,
There is only one solution,
It’s keep on keeping on.
The way ahead is puzzling,
And clouds obstruct your view,
If this is how you’re feeling,
There’s just one thing to do;
Don’t prove yourself a quitter,
Though hope is nearly gone,
But grit your teeth and bear it,
And keep on keeping on.
Good luck is round the corner,
So show a smiling face;
For soon your fears will vanish,
And joy will take their place,
Look forward to tomorrow,
When troubles will be gone,
Because you had the courage,
To keep on keeping on.
Life’s a supermarket
With shelf that can contain
Chaos and confusion
Worry, Grief, and Pain.
Keep looking for the bargains,
And surely you will find
A measure of real pleasure
On the shelf marked “Peace of Mind”.
Gloom is there a-plenty,
But its value must be curbed,
Let it lie beneath the counter,
And remain there undisturbed.
Long before the final check-out,
The incentive’s there to see –
Seek the shelf marked “Happiness”,
It’s on offer and it’s free.
God sent us here to make mistakes,
To strive, to fail, to re-begin,
To take the tempting food of sin,
And find what bitter food it makes.
To miss the path, to go astray,
To wonder blindly in the night;
But, searching, praying for the light,
Until at last we find the way.
And looking back along the past,
We know we needed all the strain
Of fear and doubts and strife and pain
To make us value peace, at last.
Who fails, finds later triumph sweet;
Who stumbles once, walks then with care,
And knows the place to cry ‘Beware’
To other unaccustomed feet.
Through strife the slumbering soul awakes,
We learn on error’s troubled route
The truths we could not prize without
The sorrow of our sad mistakes.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Bless my little kitchen Lord,
I love it’s every nook,
And bless me as I do my work,
Wash pots and pan and cook.
May the meals that I prepare,
Be seasoned from above,
With thy blessing and they grace,
But most of all thy love.
As we partake of healthy food,
The table thou hast spread,
We’ll not forget to thank the Lord,
For all our daily bread.
So bless my little kitchen Lord,
And those who enter in,
May they find naught but joy?
And peace and happiness within.
The road’s uphill for you, but sure
You’ll reach the top at length.
The way is steep and rough, but friend,
You’ll find the needed strength.
So climb and sing and pray and strive
In spite of thorns and stones,
For if God be your guide, why then,
You do not climb alone.
One day at a time,
With its failures and fears,
With its hurts and mistakes,
With its weakness and tears,
With its portion of pain
And its burden of care;
One day at a time,
We must meet and bear.
One day at a time
To be patient and strong;
To be calm under trail
And sweet under wrong;
Then its toiling shall pass
And its sorrow shall cease;
It shall darken and die,
And the night shall bring peace.
One day at a time –
But the day is so long,
And the heart is not brave,
And the soul is not strong,
O Thou pitiful Christ,
Be Thou all the way;
Give courage and patience
And strength for the day.
Swift cometh His answer,
So clear and so sweet;
“Yea I will be with thee,
They troubles to meet;
I will not forget thee,
Nor fail thee, nor grieve;
I will not forsake thee,
I never will leave.”
Not yesterday’s load
We are called onto bear,
Nor the morrow’s uncertain
And shadowy care;
Why should we look forward
Or back with dismay?
Our needs, as our mercies,
Are but for the day.
One day at a time,
And the day is His day;
He hath numbered its hours,
Through they haste or delay.
His grace is sufficient;
We walk not alone;
So for today He giveth
The strength that His
Ann Johnson Flint
My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a wing'd sentry
All skillful in the wars,
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles,
And one born in a Manger,
Commands the beauteous files.
He is they gracious Friend,
And (O my soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure,
But one who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
Praise the Lord for this glorious day,
It is beautiful in every way.
Praise Him for the skies above,
For all His reflections of purest love.
Praise the Lord for the rivers and seas,
For the buzzing of the bees,
As they make delicious honey,
More precious than a pot of money!
Praise the Lord for the animals and birds,
For cherry faces and life giving words.
Praise the Lord for family and friends,
For the spirit’s life that never ends.
Praise the Lord for you and me,
For the ability to hear and see.
Praise Him for our precious health,
More important than material wealth.
Praise the Lord for all creation
For helping us to go beyond limitation,
To reach out to the unknown world,
Hold us as the future is gently unfurled.
Praise the Lord for His unending love,
For all the support from Heaven above.
And as we go out on our way,
Let’s praise the Lord for each new day!
I got up early one morning
And rushed right into the day;
I had so much to accomplish
That I didn’t have time to pray.
Problems just tumbled about me,
And heavier came each task,
“Why doesn’t God help me?” I wondered,
He answered, “You didn’t ask.”
I wanted to see joy and beauty,
But the day toiled on, grey and bleak;
I wonder why God didn’t show me,
He said, “But you didn’t seek.”
I tried to come into God’s presence;
I used all my keys at the lock.
God gently and lovingly chided,
“My child, you didn’t knock.”
I woke up early this morning, and
Paused before entering the day;
I had so much to accomplish
That I had to take time to pray.
The Faithful Few
They’re in your own community,
Just scattered here and there,
The faithful who carry on,
In every fête and fair.
They’re in the little sewing guides;
They’re on the Red Cross stand
Or working for a Church Bazaar,
This faithful little band.
Though others falter, fail and halt,
From inland to the coast,
You’ll always find the faithful few,
Are standing by their post.
Not glamorising for a day, nor putting up a show,
But for a cause they know is right,
They’re always on the go.
They’re often pass the prime of youth,
Their hair all tinged with gray.
But service which they choose to give,
Still keeps them feeling gay.
They seen to have the happy knack
Of making life worthwhile;
The secret of those faithful few,
Lies ‘neath each pleasant smile.
They’ve crowded out the God of Self;
They’re leant the way to live,
Their joys aren’t found in what they get,
But simply what they give.
There’s Sunshine in a Smile
Life is a mixture of sunshine and rain,
Laughter and pleasure, teardrops and pain,
All days can’t be bright, but it’s certainly true,
There was never a cloud the sun didn’t shine through-
So just keep on smiling whatever betides you,
Secure in the knowledge God is always beside you,
And you’re find when you smile your day will be brighter
And all your burdens will seem so much lighter-
For each time you smile you will find it is true
Somebody, somewhere will smile back at you,
And nothing on earth can make life more worthwhile
Than the sunshine and warmth of a beautiful smile.
Helen Steiner Rice
The Small Miracle
Today my thoughts were drifting
As I hurried down the street,
The path was smooth and even,
And quite firm beneath my feet.
The sky was blue above me,
And the sun was purest gold
Was surely of the “dreamy” kind,
From story books of old.
And as the joy of living
Gave my happy feet new wings,
I dwelt on life’s sweet mysteries,
And other sacred things . . .
And my glance, a-while I rested
On the path as I would do,
Where a tiny blade of grass I saw
Had quietly struggled through.
There was nothing to explain it
How the task had come to pass;
Nobody sang the praises
Of that small green blade of grass.
But its tiny arm was reaching
For its share of life that be
As proud and straight and noble
As the tallest proudest tree.
I ask no explanation . . .
That’s life, just once again,
What is there left for me to say,
Except perhaps, “Amen”?
For nothing is impossible,
Be we great or very small;
And until we’ve tried, how can we know
The strength within us all?
I felt so very humble
As I hurried on my way
You see, I saw a very
Special miracle today.
If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don’t.
If you’d like to win, but think you can’t
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost,
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow’s will;
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you’re outclassed, you are,
You’ve got to think high to rise.
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or fastest man;
But sooner or later the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can.
Walter D. Wintle
Today I smiled, and all at once
things didn’t look so bad.
Today I shared with someone else,
a bit of hope I had.
Today I sang a little song,
and felt my heart grow light,
And walked a happy little mile,
with not a cloud in sight.
Today I worked with what I had
and longed for nothing more.
And what seemed like only weeds,
were flowers at my door.
Today I loved a little more
and complained a little less.
And in the giving of myself,
I forgot my weariness.
Until the sky is brighter,
Until the storm is through,
We’ve got to make the best of things-
The best that we can do.
Until the sky is brighter,
And clouds are free from rain,
Let Hope be your umbrella,
Until we meet again.
Whatever Will Be, Will Be
So you think that you arrived on earth,
A twinkle in two eyes?
And if the cards all fall your way,
Great wealth will be your prize;
You work and slave and plan ahead,
To make your way, you try;
Then reach the crossroads of your life–
Right on time. . . . to die.
The Master’s hand guides every one,
He knows the road we’ll take;
Whether it be right or wrong,
The choice is ours to make.
One day you’ll take a short cut,
Just so you won’t be late,
And arrive at just the very spot–
On time to meet your fate.
Why does a person do a thing
He’s never done before?
What guiding hand will send this man,
On errand, trip or chore?
Our lives are pre-arranged for us,
Don’t chide me jestingly;
But you’re be there on time, my friend,
To meet your destiny.
Old Father Times just ticks along,
Turning pages in our book,
He shuffles every one about,
By hook, or else by crook.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways,
The God of all is he,
It’s not for us to reason why–
For whatever will be, will be.
Grace M. Douglas
We all need words to live by,
To inspire us and to guide us,
Words to give us courage,
When the threats of life betide us.
And the words that never fail us,
Are the words of God above,
Words of comfort and of courage,
Filled with wisdom and of love.
They are ageless and enduring,
They have lived through generations,
There’s no question left unanswered,
In our Father’s Revelations.
And in this ever changing world,
God’s word remains unchanged,
For though through countless ages,
They’ve been often re-arranged.
The truth shines through all changes,
Just as bright today as when
Our Father made the universe,
And breathed His life in men.
And the words of inspiration,
That I wrote for you today,
Are just the old enduring truths,
Said in a rhythmic way.
And if my ‘borrowed’ words of truth,
In some way touch your heart,
Then I am deeply thankful,
To have had a little part.
In sharing these God given lines,
And I hope you share them too,
With family, friends and loved ones
And all those dear to you.
Helen Steiner Rice
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