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

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.

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)

...so 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

Candy-apple

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?

Janet~

Re-posting an oldie because it's applesauce-making day...

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

Meta-ball-ism

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!