The day turns into vanity, And weariness approaches near, But then I call to mind with clarity— I shelter in Christ's name so dear.
I take the shield of faith so true, It binds the enemy's design, From all afflictions shields me through, And preserves my strength to shine.
The helmet of salvation's worn, And Christ's own righteousness—my mail. Not easily the foe reborn Can pierce me with his fiery flail.
Upon my loins, truth's sword is bound, The Spirit's blade, through battle tested. It strikes the foe on every ground, No quarter from four sides requested.
I hasten now to arm my feet In readiness to spread the word: Christ is the truth, the path complete, His pardon waits—to all has heard!
In God's protection through all time, The holy host cannot be shaken. And those thus armed in armor's prime— The Lord will teach them, when they waken!
---POEM_1b--- TITLE: Meditations on the Parable of the Sower "Behold, a sower went out to sow" Matt. 13:3
Knowing nothing of God's grace, I lived as best I could survive. I was but dust along the way Where my Redeemer walked alive.
A generous handful of wheat grain He cast to me with sorrow deep, But... in that moment came a train Of birds who gathered all their keep...
The days marched on with quickened stride, Forgive me, Lord, so long ago— I became stony ground beside Where Your own seed could barely grow,
But sun breathed forth its scorching heat, And moisture failed throughout the day— Like fire I could not see complete, Your sowing withered and gave way...
Yet You, O Lord, in labor strong! When spring returned once more to bloom, You did not spare seeds choice and long, But gave more grain to break the gloom.
How sad to think of times now past— The stubborn struggles of my soul! Weeds sprouted thick and grew so fast, And choked the wheat, beyond control...
But still the plow worked through the mire, Breaking the fallow, breaking stone. Perhaps someone's fervent prayer's fire Helped good seed's growth to be sown.
The rain watered the blessed seed, The earth provided all its strength... Salvation came in hour of need— None could destroy the crop's full length.
Let the rich harvest wave and sing, I ask no other destiny now. When reapers come at harvest spring, My wheat they'll gather in a bough!
