I've made some great orations,
In my dreams.
But when awake the words won't come,
Or so it seems.
So all the wisdom and advice
I have to give,
I simply must impart to you,
By how I live.
Showing posts with label Thinking It Over. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking It Over. Show all posts
"Prayers"
Our prayers are not all answered,
Perhaps it's just as well,
For what is really needed,
We cannot always tell.
One farmer prays for sunshine,
Another prays for rain.
We pray for health and vigor,
The doctor prays for pain.
We pray our cars shall run well,
Mechanics pray they shan't.
You see what task the Lord has,
To know which prayers to grant.
The lawyer prays for errors,
So trouble comes our way.
He'll be on hand to help us,
And then we pay and pay.
The undertaker might not pray,
But if he ever should,
He knows an epidemic's toll,
Would make his business good.
Continue trusting in the Lord,
And don't forget to pray.
You'll find that many answered pleas,
Will come to you each day.
Perhaps it's just as well,
For what is really needed,
We cannot always tell.
One farmer prays for sunshine,
Another prays for rain.
We pray for health and vigor,
The doctor prays for pain.
We pray our cars shall run well,
Mechanics pray they shan't.
You see what task the Lord has,
To know which prayers to grant.
The lawyer prays for errors,
So trouble comes our way.
He'll be on hand to help us,
And then we pay and pay.
The undertaker might not pray,
But if he ever should,
He knows an epidemic's toll,
Would make his business good.
Continue trusting in the Lord,
And don't forget to pray.
You'll find that many answered pleas,
Will come to you each day.
Down Stream
"Similes of Life" I wrote,
Just fifty years ago.
And pondered then the "stream of life"
That each of us would know.
Excitedly we looked ahead,
With choices everywhere.
And eagerly we made the plunge,
To see how we would fare.
And now at last we all have come,
A long ways down the stream.
We each have sought a hearty quest,
Of almost every dream.
A few have traveled far and wide,
And some have stayed nearby.
To those who simply traveled on
We wave a sad goodbye.
In grasping opportunities,
As near as I can find,
Professions, trades and jobs we've had
Of almost every kind.
With Doctors, Lawyers, Builders,
Salesmen, Farmers, Cooks and more.
There's been Merchants, Agents, Carpenters
And Teachers by the score.
We've had Dealers, Barbers, Poets, Writers,
Artist, Painters, Men with Dairies,
Secretaries, College Deans
And Life Insurance Actuaries.
Pastors, Bishops, Clerks and Chiefs,
And yet in all this time,
With all these many trades not one
Has picked a life of crime.
Success surpassed our failures.
And when all is said and done,
I'm proud to be a member
Of the Class of Thirty-One.
Just fifty years ago.
And pondered then the "stream of life"
That each of us would know.
Excitedly we looked ahead,
With choices everywhere.
And eagerly we made the plunge,
To see how we would fare.
And now at last we all have come,
A long ways down the stream.
We each have sought a hearty quest,
Of almost every dream.
A few have traveled far and wide,
And some have stayed nearby.
To those who simply traveled on
We wave a sad goodbye.
In grasping opportunities,
As near as I can find,
Professions, trades and jobs we've had
Of almost every kind.
With Doctors, Lawyers, Builders,
Salesmen, Farmers, Cooks and more.
There's been Merchants, Agents, Carpenters
And Teachers by the score.
We've had Dealers, Barbers, Poets, Writers,
Artist, Painters, Men with Dairies,
Secretaries, College Deans
And Life Insurance Actuaries.
Pastors, Bishops, Clerks and Chiefs,
And yet in all this time,
With all these many trades not one
Has picked a life of crime.
Success surpassed our failures.
And when all is said and done,
I'm proud to be a member
Of the Class of Thirty-One.
Prospecting
A rover devout, I'll ramble about
And prospect wherever I choose;
O'er hills of success, in failure's recess,
I've nothing but time to lose.
The paths are dim, the slopes are steep,
But the treasure of life is there;
And on I'm summoned by the lure
To see how much--and where.
For numberless days I'll journey the ways
That are follow'd by only a few.
I'll travel the trails where knowledge prevails,
And nuggets I'll find e'er I'm through.
And when I find a paying ledge
On some creek's winding trend,
I'll pitch my tent and stake my claim
And dig it to the end.
And prospect wherever I choose;
O'er hills of success, in failure's recess,
I've nothing but time to lose.
The paths are dim, the slopes are steep,
But the treasure of life is there;
And on I'm summoned by the lure
To see how much--and where.
For numberless days I'll journey the ways
That are follow'd by only a few.
I'll travel the trails where knowledge prevails,
And nuggets I'll find e'er I'm through.
And when I find a paying ledge
On some creek's winding trend,
I'll pitch my tent and stake my claim
And dig it to the end.
Time
Time is a beast that we have to train,
We each have the critter in our domain.
Allowed to wander it brings us woe,
And makes us late wherever we go.
It skips and scampers about everywhere,
When needed the most it is never there.
If properly trained it will be our slave.
The more we control it the more we save.
No beast of burden will serve so well,
And bring success more than tongue can tell.
So pay strict heed to this little rhyme,
I would tell you more, but I've run out of time.
We each have the critter in our domain.
Allowed to wander it brings us woe,
And makes us late wherever we go.
It skips and scampers about everywhere,
When needed the most it is never there.
If properly trained it will be our slave.
The more we control it the more we save.
No beast of burden will serve so well,
And bring success more than tongue can tell.
So pay strict heed to this little rhyme,
I would tell you more, but I've run out of time.
Begin
Begin and the rest is easy
Start, and you're on your way.
Awake when your slumber's over.
Arise to a bright new day.
Step up and meet the challenge.
Speak up and you'll be heard.
Climb up and all will cheer you
And heed your given word.
Each one can view the treasure
Atop the golden stair.
Each one can crave the glory,
But action gets you there.
Start, and you're on your way.
Awake when your slumber's over.
Arise to a bright new day.
Step up and meet the challenge.
Speak up and you'll be heard.
Climb up and all will cheer you
And heed your given word.
Each one can view the treasure
Atop the golden stair.
Each one can crave the glory,
But action gets you there.
Greed
The dog was happy and homeward bound.
He held in his mouth a bone he had found.
And as he traveled he crossed a brook.
In the cool, clear water he took a look.
He saw his reflection and started to whine,
"That dog has a nicer bone than mine."
And as he grabbed for the other bone,
He opened his mouth and lost his own.
And as you know, in the world today,
There are quite a few people who act the same way.
They would be better off to chew their own
And let other people's bones alone.
He held in his mouth a bone he had found.
And as he traveled he crossed a brook.
In the cool, clear water he took a look.
He saw his reflection and started to whine,
"That dog has a nicer bone than mine."
And as he grabbed for the other bone,
He opened his mouth and lost his own.
And as you know, in the world today,
There are quite a few people who act the same way.
They would be better off to chew their own
And let other people's bones alone.
The Widows Might
Who will be billing to help in the ward,
We can trust to do things right?
And with the experience the Bishop has gained
He knows that, the widows might.
Who goes to the temple, the storehouse and church
and cares for the sick day or night?
Who teaches the children and sometimes adults?
It's the widows, with all of their might.
Who will be there on the judgment day,
To see the dear Lord in his light
and hear his kind words, as he says well done?
I'm thinking the widows might.
We can trust to do things right?
And with the experience the Bishop has gained
He knows that, the widows might.
Who goes to the temple, the storehouse and church
and cares for the sick day or night?
Who teaches the children and sometimes adults?
It's the widows, with all of their might.
Who will be there on the judgment day,
To see the dear Lord in his light
and hear his kind words, as he says well done?
I'm thinking the widows might.
One Of Three
Mary and Joseph and Jesus the Babe,
Were transients in Bethlehem.
Three wealthy and wise men came from afar
To honor and visit them.
And in the Godhead, once again,
Appears the number three.
The Father, Son and holy Ghost
Comprise the Diety.
While through the night He wept alone
In bleak Gethsemane
And in His grief sweat drops of blood
In total agony.
The soldiers came to capture him
And sought for His abode.
Then one He loved betrayed Him thrice
Before the cockrel crowed.
Between two common thieves He hung,
In pain for all to see.
With hands and feet, in brutal style,
nailed to a so called tree.
Then from a borrowed tomb came forth,
his power set Him free.
In resurrection's plan He rose
The last day of the three.
Now, our dear Lord, to show our love,
Our duties number three:
To praise Thy name, obey Thy word
And testify of Thee.
Were transients in Bethlehem.
Three wealthy and wise men came from afar
To honor and visit them.
And in the Godhead, once again,
Appears the number three.
The Father, Son and holy Ghost
Comprise the Diety.
While through the night He wept alone
In bleak Gethsemane
And in His grief sweat drops of blood
In total agony.
The soldiers came to capture him
And sought for His abode.
Then one He loved betrayed Him thrice
Before the cockrel crowed.
Between two common thieves He hung,
In pain for all to see.
With hands and feet, in brutal style,
nailed to a so called tree.
Then from a borrowed tomb came forth,
his power set Him free.
In resurrection's plan He rose
The last day of the three.
Now, our dear Lord, to show our love,
Our duties number three:
To praise Thy name, obey Thy word
And testify of Thee.
Song In The Air
A song is floating in the air.
The words and music everywhere.
The grass and weeds bent by the breeze.
The leaves that chatter in the trees.
High notes from eaves the wind has wauft.
Low tones drift from the old hay loft.
The buzzing bees, the songs of birds,
The babbling brook pronounces words.
Is it a song of storm and sea?
Is it a prayer to Deity?
A song of high adventure wild?
A lullaby to please a child?
A song filled with a lover's plea?
A song of hope for things to be?
The words and music all are there
To put together from the air.
Will someone capture it? We'll see.
And if they do, I hope it's me.
The words and music everywhere.
The grass and weeds bent by the breeze.
The leaves that chatter in the trees.
High notes from eaves the wind has wauft.
Low tones drift from the old hay loft.
The buzzing bees, the songs of birds,
The babbling brook pronounces words.
Is it a song of storm and sea?
Is it a prayer to Deity?
A song of high adventure wild?
A lullaby to please a child?
A song filled with a lover's plea?
A song of hope for things to be?
The words and music all are there
To put together from the air.
Will someone capture it? We'll see.
And if they do, I hope it's me.
Growing Old
I've got no business growing old,
So many stories to be told,
So many songs that should be sung,
So many things to do while young.
So many mountains yet to scale,
I need more time to win, or fail.
In life's great game of give and take,
I need more youth, my goals to make.
I'm not content with folks my age,
Where all repose serene and sage.
And as they rock, wait to explain,
Each trial they've had, each ache and pain.
Sometimes I feel so young inside
I think I must look young outside.
This feeling doesn't last, for lo,
My mirror tells me it's not so.
When I was young I'd leap and spring,
And mount my horse with graceful swing.
But since my youthful zest is gone,
I hobble up and just crawl on.
So fleet of foot, so sure of aim
I wish I still could be the same.
In sports events I once excelled,
But just to watch I'm now compelled.
A warm-up ball once rolled my way,
I reached to throw it back in play.
Now this small act should bring no harm.
I went half way, and hurt my arm.
Now I've complained and I've rebelled,
And tried to keep what I once held.
Forgive me if I whine and scold,
I've got no business growing old.
So many stories to be told,
So many songs that should be sung,
So many things to do while young.
So many mountains yet to scale,
I need more time to win, or fail.
In life's great game of give and take,
I need more youth, my goals to make.
I'm not content with folks my age,
Where all repose serene and sage.
And as they rock, wait to explain,
Each trial they've had, each ache and pain.
Sometimes I feel so young inside
I think I must look young outside.
This feeling doesn't last, for lo,
My mirror tells me it's not so.
When I was young I'd leap and spring,
And mount my horse with graceful swing.
But since my youthful zest is gone,
I hobble up and just crawl on.
So fleet of foot, so sure of aim
I wish I still could be the same.
In sports events I once excelled,
But just to watch I'm now compelled.
A warm-up ball once rolled my way,
I reached to throw it back in play.
Now this small act should bring no harm.
I went half way, and hurt my arm.
Now I've complained and I've rebelled,
And tried to keep what I once held.
Forgive me if I whine and scold,
I've got no business growing old.