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THE POET'S CORNER
"For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast." - Ephesians 2:8-9
I REMEMBER CHRISTMAS...
I remember Christmas
The way it used to be.
With family and friends,
And gifts beneath the tree.
Not the latest product
From Target or Wal-Mart;
But precious, handmade treasures
Given from the heart.
We gathered at the table
And bowed our heads to pray,
To thank our precious Savior
Who's the Reason for the day.
Mom and Grandma bring the food,
Turkey, Potatoes, Pumpkin pie,
Dressing, "famous" Hot Dish.
What a sight for the hungry eye!
After we have stuffed ourselves,
Did we head out to the Mall?
No, we all stayed and visited.
Catching up with news from all.
The children rip off wrappings,
Play with toys, shout with glee;
Until Father gets his Bible down
And places it upon his knee.
Suddenly the room grows quiet,
Even children stop their play,
As we contemplate the Reason
That we have a Christmas Day.
He reads to all the Gospel Story,
Beginning with the Birth.
"The provision of a Perfect Body,
Is why the Savior came to earth.
Christmas leads to Calvary,
Calvary leads to the Grave,
He must be the perfect Sacrifice
That's how mankind He'll save."
The Grave led to His Resurrection,
And His Mission was complete.
He ascended back to Heaven,
At the Father's side He took His seat.
Now, the Savior offers the best gift
For Christmas; or any time of year.
If you believe Christ died for you,
Eternal life is yours, free and clear."
Father asks all to bow their heads,
"Will you believe Christ died for you?
You don't have to pray or raise your hand,
Just believe is all you do."
When the kitchen is set to rights,
And the toys are put away.
We all got dressed up for church,
And soon headed out that way,
To sing the old, familiar carols,
Watch the children's Christmas play.
Hear the Gospel presented clearly,
The perfect end to a perfect day.
A bag of candy for each child,
Lunch in the "fellowship hall."
Good food and conversation.
A blessed time was had by all;
Then, Father loaded us up for home.
Mom sent tired children up to bed.
They shared coffee by the barrel stove,
And prayed for each "sleepy head."
Yes, I remember Christmas
The way it used to be.
With family and friends,
And gifts beneath the tree.
Seeing Father get his Bible down
And placing it upon his knee.
That is one family's memory,
Of how Christmas used to be.
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We hope you like our poetry. Most of it will be original; but, some will be in the public domain.
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God Bless You...
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