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The spirit of Christmas is a human product; the Spirit of Christ is a divine person. That makes all the difference in the world. In all that you do, may love be the rule Love is stronger this season of Yule.

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Christmas brings peace in the world which is good If love and peace would stay, if only it would! The magic of Christmas falls like a spell If this feeling would stay troubles would dispel. The magic of Christmas it comes from above And fills us with goodness and lots of love. An Old-Fashioned Christmas Helen Monnette I thought of an old-fashioned Christmas When the world was aglitter with snow, When stars, in their lockets of velvet, Their silvery beams rain below.

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Where a Christmas tree stands in a corner Decked out in the season's attire, With a pearl-white necklace of popcorn, The stringing, the children's desire. The shutters unclosed at the windows And friendly the light shining there, Like the neighbors who linger when passing, For it is the hour of prayer.

I thought of an old-fashioned Christmas And a church in the valley of peace, And the bell with its silver chiming That eased our cares ere it ceased. The peals of the laughter of children In toyland around the green tree; Pleasing and happy the merriment, How wonderful childhood must be. The logs blaze bright in the fireplace As the hearts that are merry and gay, As the sleighbells I hear in the distance And wish they were coming my way.

I wish you an old-fashioned Christmas With neighbors and family and friends, With church bells and singing and blessing As the old year comes to an end. Star of the East, the night were drear But for the tender grace That with thy glory comes to cheer Earth's loneliest, darkest place; For by that charity we see Where there is hope for all and me. Star of the East! What about our reputation? Folks will find out you know. We thought we warned you discreetly, but it's clear, you just didn't heed.

What will we say to our neighbours? She gave into his greed? All that you taught I obeyed; Joseph is not this child's father; he's the child for whom we have prayed. I was alone in my bedroom and an angel came in the night. He spoke but I barely heard him, my body was shaking with fright! He calmed my fears and assured me that he had a message to bring: God has chosen my body to nurture our heavenly king!

He is the child we have longed for; the promise that helped us to cope.

Isaac Watts | Poetry Foundation

God, being faithful, has heard us, and He is rewarding our hope. Mother, I know there'll be gossip, because folks won't understand, But Scripture long ago told us that God had all of this planned. Joseph and I will still marry; he knows the problems we'll face, Like me, he too is God's servant. We're honoured, it's not a disgrace! Suppose that God, whose mighty hand Created worlds, had never planned A way for man to be redeemed. Suppose the wise men only dreamed That guiding star whose light still glows Down through the centuries.

Suppose He counted all the cost, And never cared that we were lost, And never died for you and me, Nor shed His blood on Calvary Upon a shameful cross.

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The Shocking, Twisted Stories Behind Your Favorite Nursery Rhymes

Poetry Near You. Academy of American Poets. National Poetry Month.

American Poets Magazine. Poems Find and share the perfect poems. The Creation. Up from the bed of the river God scooped the clay; And by the bank of the river He kneeled him down; And there the great God Almighty Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky, Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night, Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand; This great God, Like a mammy bending over her baby, Kneeled down in the dust Toiling over a lump of clay Till he shaped it in is his own image; Then into it he blew the breath of life, And man became a living soul.

O Lord—this morning— Bow our hearts beneath our knees, And our knees in some lonesome valley. We come this morning— Like empty pitchers to a full fountain, With no merits of our own.

O Lord—open up a window of heaven, And lean out far over the battlements of glory, And listen this morning. Lord, have mercy on proud and dying sinners— Sinners hanging over the mouth of hell, Who seem to love their distance well. Lord—ride by this morning— Mount Your milk-white horse, And ride-a this morning— And in Your ride, ride by old hell, Ride by the dingy gates of hell, And stop poor sinners in their headlong plunge.

And now, O Lord, this man of God, Who breaks the bread of life this morning— Shadow him in the hollow of Thy hand, And keep him out of the gunshot of the devil. Take him, Lord—this morning— Wash him with hyssop inside and out, Hang him up and drain him dry of sin. Pin his ear to the wisdom-post, And make his words sledge hammers of truth— Beating on the iron heart of sin. Lord God, this morning— Put his eye to the telescope of eternity, And let him look upon the paper walls of time.

Lord, turpentine his imagination, Put perpetual motion in his arms, Fill him full of the dynamite of Thy power, Anoint him all over with the oil of Thy salvation, And set his tongue on fire. And now, O Lord— When I've done drunk my last cup of sorrow— When I've been called everything but a child of God— When I'm done traveling up the rough side of the mountain— O—Mary's Baby— When I start down the steep and slippery steps of death— When this old world begins to rock beneath my feet— Lower me to my dusty grave in peace To wait for that great gittin'-up morning—Amen.

James Weldon Johnson Reading this gives a reassuring hope and strength to hold on. I am a work of art In the Almighty's hands. The intent of His heart, He totally understands. God is my Saviour God is my friend. God lights my way Whenever darkness descends. She had never been in love; His was from above. She didn't like compassion;. I really like how your poem tells of someone who pushed away from God but He still loved her.

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And how in the end she goes to Him and is saved. This pain that I feel cuts through me like steel. It's like an open wound that just won't heal. They say that time is the key that turns the lock and sets you free, But why, God? Why, is this happening to me? Menu Search Login Loving. Keep me logged in.


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God Poems Email Share. Featured Shared Story. Created By Lisa D. Sometimes we are out there lost, seeking your acceptance, Read Complete Poem.