When Poverty Came Home

 

When once You came upon our house, we acted very proud:

We shouted very loud; we refuged in dark clouds.

When once You intruded through our doors, we asked You please to leave, but still You steeled away, and stood, to have Your say.

You taught us, though not “nice”. You taught us, though not “sweet”, but in the Master’s name, You bathed our soiled feet.

You pointed up to love; You showed fidelity: first fruits to God, above, then to the ones You love, a holy hope of life.

This triune poor third peg, is not a broken leg, but just a poor old ghost, with tongue inflamed in truth, who guides a conquering host, from age to age, no boast, this poor, yet Holy Ghost.

The Poor Rich Man

He serves not one, but only himself.

He sits with none whilst in the company of all.

He speaks without hearing; to be only heard.

He loves not any, but lusts after all.

He claims his land, to fence others out.

He boasts of his honor; he pays with his heart.

He collects only objects, to prove his great worth.

He owes not one, and calls it virtue.

He rants from his bed ‘til it turns to his grave.

His use is of others, expending his soul.

He bears hard his wrath, and clings to all grudges.

Rather to die, than seek or grant forgiveness.

He is a shrewd manager, no prodigal he.

What he chooses to carry; he sadly receives… burdens to burden.

His yoke is so heavy, to even lift high, but he dares not let go.

He grips hard his pain; he shelters his eyes….

 And cowers in shame.

The Rich Poor Man

He loves God first, but finds love for all.

He sits with the low, but never alone.

He hears before speaking, with wonder and awe…

the saving message of forgiveness…faith, hope and charity.

  He metes no bounds, His fruits he does share.

He prays for all men, yet men honor Him.

His raiment is given, in trust, He obeys.

He seeks truth and peace; above all, He’s free.

He runs to the sick; He weeps for the dead.

He smiles at the rain; He stands on his head.

He laughs with the children; He sings to the aged.

He gives thanks for grace, and sin fears His name.

He prays for God’s mercy; He makes humble claim.

He carried a cross; He praises God’s name!

He gave all for all; His yoke is so light.

He yields to be carried, but lifted up high, His words carry far…

And abolish all shame !  

The Deceiver’s Great Crime

The crime he does commit, the gospel he does teach,

Go back for evermore, never forward…always to recede.

Great Satan’s myth and lie, like unto Balaam, is this:

That man, He cannot change, and God is bound of time.

His one great crime, in countless ways, sends men back unto the scene,

always as a dog unto his vomit, he does burden, he does scream.

He smiles at this rejoinder, he mocks at all who try,

did you ever really think, your own gravity, you could defy!

Give up he taunts and whispers, so soft you cannot change,

of use you are to none…your life is ‘most done… slide back to whence you came.

But a Man on a colt He rides, a mountainous growing tide, he swings the sword of life,

It cuts two-edged sharp, forgiveness in love; it points to only truth, it changes men in time.

He looks him in the eye, He says just simply this: “Stand behind me with your lies,

I cut loose the ropes of those whom you would let die.”

And Satan he does tumble and Satan he does fall,

in defeat he bows his head, back to the ashes he does crawl

  Back to his own judgment he returns, consigned to chosen exile called,

where man, he cannot change, and God is of all time.