Will of the Wintry Wind...

we woke to the wild will of the wind this morning!

all man powerless against its force.

we can muster the might to bear its bluster and batten down hatches

but we cannot thwart or deter that invisible fiend

Wind’s wild wail rakes hill and dale

Rouses sleepy russet leaves

Wakes the world with wrath unfurled

Rattling windows, doors and eaves

Riles the tops of bristled copse

Shrieks across earth’s living room

Tugs at hoods and bundled broods

Hustled by a bully’s broom

Rumbles, roars through out-of-doors

Like a freight train without form

Lunges, lashes, plunges, splashes

Like a sea tossed by the storm

Rankles, rages, rips at pages

Pressed like pansies in a book

Rough shod artist flings a heart-twist  

Into every nook and brook

 Puddles rippled, silver-stippled

Sweeps a sheet of streets, roofs, yards

Double-decker trouble-wreaker

Strews rubble through boulevards

Shakes and shivers brakes and rivers

Not a shred of courtesy

Pulls and pushes the bulrushes

Frazzles frothy filigree

Rosins fiddles bronze and brittle

Made of sticks and prairie grass

Steals our shingles, peels back wrinkles

Fills our fists with teenage sass

Keens desires for home-fires

And its world of simple joys

Makes us gladder for each other

While the wind its will employs

© Janet Martin

Oh, To Know

Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, 

but the Spirit who is from God,

 that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God.
1 Cor.2:12

 

Oh, to know we are forgiven

Fills faith’s flight with wondrous worth

Tunes heart chords with hymns of heaven

Midst the pangs and twangs of earth

Oh, to know no one is ever

All alone through God alone

Comforts us with kind endeavor

Not to fear time’s vast Unknown

Oh, to know that we are able

Not through might of mortal form

But hope’s anchor keeps us stable

Through the night of trial’s storm

Oh, to know love’s purposed blindness

How, no matter what we boast

Nothing takes the place of kindness

Proving who we love the most

Oh to know soul’s condemnation

Cannot keep its curse of woe

As the promise of salvation

Frees the convict on death-row

Oh, to know in spite of stumbles

By the grace of God we press

My, but how this favour humbles

Grumbles turned to thankfulness

© Janet Martin

Of Large Estate

Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth;

keep watch at the door of my lips.

Do not let my heart be drawn to any evil thing

or take part in works of wickedness

with men who do iniquity;

let me not feast on their delicacies.

Let the righteous man strike me;

let his rebuke be an act of loving devotion.

It is oil for my head; let me not refuse it.

For my prayer is ever against the deeds of the wicked. 

Psalm 141:3-5 

Lord, set a watch before, behind

With measure sound and stout

That large estate of heart and mind

So volatile without

For as a man thinks so he is

The mouth speaks from the heart

These establish the genesis

Of all that we impart

Then help us to hunger and thirst

After Your righteousness

Though spirit wills the flesh is cursed

With inherent weakness

....where pride always precedes the fall 

As we prove with vain jest

That without Your love we are all

Deplorable at best

Make us unwise in our own eyes

Forbid we walk by sight  

Help us to humbly recognize

How much we need your Light

…and how we need a watch designed

By Whom all things are known

The large estate of heart and mind

So cunning on its own

© Janet Martin

 Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD and shun evil.

Prov.3:7

For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he:...

Prov.23:7

 You brood of vipers! How can you speak good things, when you are evil?

 For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.

Matt.12:34

Once Upon Truth, Not Make-Believe

Jesus! so much more than a baby in a manger on that first Christmas Day!  

 The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him, and said,

 “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!

John 1:29

Once upon truth, not make-believe

Sin cursed man through Adam and Eve

And birthed the madness of a race

That would be doomed but for God’s grace

Where long many prophets foretold

What many never saw unfold

That God would send a Lamb to be

The scapegoat for sin’s penalty

So long and strong the nations kept

The law with sacrifice inept

Because the blood of bulls, you see

Could not redeem eternally

Faithful God always keeps His Word

His thoughts and ways are undeterred

Thus, Father set beneath Love’s rod

His Son to be the Lamb of God

...and on that first fair Christmas morn

The Saviour of the world was born

Jesus, God of living and dead

Laid in a manger for His bed

(Where being God, He could have used

This as just cause to be excused

From the cost of salvation's plan)

But, He put on likeness of man

Not any man, but servant heart

So none would envy any part

His company the sick, cast down

Throngs followed him from town to town

Until that awful, glorious day

When death would have life’s perfect say

As ‘it is finished’ set man free

And stripped the grave of victory

And gave to all, once and for all

A way to be saved from the Fall

To grant to human race the joy

And hope that nothing can destroy

Through love and truth, not make-believe

That all of mankind may receive

For we are all part of a race

That would be doomed but for God’s grace

© Janet Martin

A Little Like a Garden...

My sister gave me the book Romance in the Garden by John H. Tobe

 in June for my birthday.

I began reading it recently and am not too far along yet but already totally in love with it 

because of little chapters like the one below

This soil we till where want and will

Bequeaths hope’s hearty toil

Yields far more than the crops we plan

As we gather its spoil

Sweat of the brow, push of the plow

‘Neath summer’s sprawling hue

Begets far more than gifted snore

When workaday is through

In the employ of grief and joy’s

Incumbent aftermath

We pause awhile to smile and smile

At blooms along the path

And in the wake of give and take

We come to realize

The trophy of a work worn glove

Makes more beloved the prize

For there we heard the singing bird

While bending to the task

And as we knelt, ah, there we felt

God close enough to ask

And there we learned respect is earned

This no one can demand

And there we find few things as kind

As that of helping hand

…or how the thrill of the downhill

Is not without the climb

and what we choose midst dreams and dues

Becomes how we spend time

How moments spill a plot we till

With what none can uproot

From One who grants far more than plants

As seed unfurls its fruit

© Janet Martin

 Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; 

for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.

 Galatians 6:7