Looking for a powerful poem but haven't found anything you like in "742 Heartwarming Poems"? This portion of the post harbours poetry heavyweights, verses with a reputation for winning gold.
If you know a poem that should be listed here, please email kyriellepublishing@xtra.co.nz
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I heard Adrian Plass read "When I Became a Christian" on a radio broadcast. If you ever get the opportunity to hear him read his own material, take it! He's terrific. See
www.AdrianPlass.com
Using my recording of Mr. Plass' radio broadcast to assist his training, Ryan Schwartz won gold for his recitation of "When I Became a Christian" at International Student Convention in 1997.
WHEN I BECAME A CHRISTIAN
(printed with permission)
Adrian Plass
When I became a Christian, I said, “Lord, now fill me in,
Tell me what I'll suffer in this world of shame and sin.”
He said, “Your body may be killed and left to rot and stink.
Do you still want to follow me?” I said, “Amen—I think.
I think Amen, Amen I think, I think I say Amen.
I'm not completely sure. Can you just run through that again?
You say my body may be killed and left to rot and stink.
Well, yes, that sounds terrific, Lord. I say Amen—I think.”
“But, Lord, there must be other ways to follow you,” I said.
“I really would prefer to end up dying in my bed.”
“Well, yes,” he said, “you could put up with the sneers and scorn and spit.
Do you still want to follow me?” I said, “Amen—a bit.
A bit Amen, Amen a bit, a bit I say Amen.
I'm not entirely sure. Can we just run through that again?
You say I could put up with sneers and also scorn and spit.
Well, yes, I’ve made my mind up, and I say, Amen—a bit.”
Well, I sat back and thought a while, then tried a different ploy.
“Now, Lord,” I said, “the Good Book says that Christians live in joy.”
“That's true,” he said, “you need the joy to bear the pain and sorrow.
So do you want to follow me?” I said, “Amen—tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Lord, I'll say it then, that's when I'll say Amen.
I need to get it clear. Can I just run through that again?
You say that I will need the joy to bear the pain and sorrow.
Well, yes, I think I've got it straight. I'll say Amen—tomorrow.”
He said, “Look, I'm not asking you to spend an hour with me,
A quick salvation sandwich and a cup of sanctity.
The cost is you. Not half of you, but every single bit.
Now tell me, will you follow me?” I said, “Amen—I quit.
I'm very sorry, Lord,” I said, “I'd like to follow you,
But I don't think religion is a manly thing to do.”
He said, “Forget religion then, and think about my Son,
And tell me if you're man enough to do what he has done.
“Are you man enough to see the need, and man enough to go;
Man enough to care for those whom no one wants to know;
Man enough to say the thing that people hate to hear;
To battle through Gethsemane in loneliness and fear?
And listen! Are you man enough to stand it at the end,
The moment of betrayal by the kisses of a friend?
Are you man enough to hold your tongue, and man enough to cry?
When nails break your body-are you man enough to die?
Man enough to take the pain, and wear it like a crown;
Man enough to love the world and turn it upside down;
Are you man enough to follow me? I ask you once again.”
I said, “Oh Lord, I'm frightened,” but I also said, “Amen.
Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen; Amen, Amen, Amen.”
I said, “Oh Lord, I'm frightened,” but I also said, “Amen.”
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The following poem is a portion of a famous 7-minute sermon by Dr. S. M. Lockridge. You can listen to Dr. Lockridge
here.
THAT'S MY KING
S. M. Lockridge
The Bible says my king is the king of the Jews;
He's the king of Israel;
He's the king of righteousness.
He's the king of the ages.
He's the king of heaven.
He's the king of glory.
He's the king of kings and
He's the Lord of Lords.
That's my king.
Well, I wonder, do you know Him?
No means of measure can define His limitless love.
No far-seeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of his shoreless supply.
No barrier can hinder Him from pouring out His blessings.
He's enduringly strong.
He's entirely sincere.
He's eternally steadfast.
He's immortally graceful.
He's imperially powerful.
He's impartially merciful.
Do you know Him?
He's the greatest phenomenon that has ever crossed the horizon of this world.
He's God's Son.
He's the sinner's Savior.
He's the centerpiece of civilization.
He stands in the solitude of Himself.
He's august and He's unique.
He's unparalleled.
He's unprecedented.
He is the loftiest idea in literature.
He's the highest personality in philosophy.
He is the supreme problem in higher criticism.
He's the fundamental doctrine of true theology.
He's the core, the necessity for spiritual religion.
He's the miracle of the age. Yes, He is.
He's the superlative of everything good that you choose to call Him.
He's the only one qualified to be an all all-sufficient Savior.
I wonder if you know Him today.
He supplies strength for the weak.
He's available for the tempted and the tried.
He sympathizes and He saves.
He strengthens and sustains.
He guards and He guides.
He heals the sick.
He cleanses the leper.
He forgives sinners.
He discharges debtors.
He delivers the captive.
He defends the feeble.
He blesses the young.
He serves the unfortunate.
He regards the aged.
He rewards the diligent.
And He beautifies the meek.
I wonder if you know Him.
Well, this is my king.
He's the key to knowledge.
He's the wellspring of wisdom.
He's the doorway of deliverance.
He's the pathway of peace.
He's the roadway of righteousness.
He's the highway of holiness.
He's the gateway of glory.
Do you know Him?
Well, His office is manifold.
His promise is sure.
His life is matchless.
His goodness is limitless.
His mercy is everlasting.
His love never changes.
His word is enough.
His grace is sufficient.
His reign is righteous and His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
I wish I could describe Him to you.
He's indescribable.
He's incomprehensible.
He's invincible.
He's irresistible.
Well you can't get him out of your mind.
You can't get him off your hands.
You can't outlive Him and
You can't live without Him.
The Pharisees couldn't stand Him,
But they found they couldn't stop Him.
Pilate couldn't find any fault in Him.
The witnesses couldn't get their testimonies to agree.
Herod couldn't kill Him.
Death couldn't handle Him, and
The grave couldn't hold Him.
Yes! That's my king!
In 1999, young Ian Bauke recited "There's Just Nobody Like Him" as a command performance at International Student Convention. The power and enthusiasm of his presentation brought the audience alive. The poem is another piece by S. M. Lockridge, similar in style and format to "That's My King".
If you have the text of "There's Just Nobody Like Him", please could you send it to kyriellepublishing@xtra.co.nz !
I do not know if the following poem has a golden record, but its style is similar to "That's My King" and "There's Just Nobody Like Him", and it has just as much potential. In fact, although it is labelled as 'author unknown', the style is so similar that I suspect it is indeed an S. M. Lockridge piece.
If you can confirm this detail, please email kyriellepublishing@xtra.co.nz !
HE IS……
Author unknown
He is the First and Last, the Beginning and the End!
He is the keeper of Creation and the Creator of all!
He keeps the Architect of the universe and the Manager of all times.
He always was, He always is, and He always will be...
Unmoved, Unchanged, Undefeated, and never Undone!
He was bruised and brought healing!
He was pierced and eased pain!
He was persecuted and brought freedom!
He was dead and brought life!
He is risen and brings power!
He reigns and brings Peace!
The world can't understand him,
The armies can't defeat Him,
The schools can't explain Him, and
The leaders can't ignore Him.
Herod couldn't kill Him,
The Pharisees couldn't confuse Him, and
The people couldn't hold Him!
Nero couldn't crush Him,
Hitler couldn't silence Him,
The New Age can't replace Him, and
Donahue can't explain Him away!
He is light, love, longevity, and Lord.
He is goodness, Kindness, Gentleness, and God.
He is Holy, Righteous, mighty, powerful, and pure.
His ways are right,
His word is eternal,
His will is unchanging, and
His mind is on me!
He is my redeemer,
He is my Savior,
He is my guide, and
He is my peace!
He has invested more in me than anyone else ever could or ever will—
He is my Joy,
He is my comfort,
He is my Lord, and
He rules my life!
If all others forsake me...
He will be here!
I serve Him because His bond is love,
His burden is light, and
His goal for me is abundant life.
I follow Him because
He is the wisdom of the wise,
The power of the powerful,
The ancient of days,
The ruler of rulers,
The leader of leaders,
The overseer of the overcomers, and
The sovereign Lord of all that was and is and is to come.
And if that seems impressive to you, try this for size.
His goal is a relationship with ME!
He will never leave me, never forsake me,
Never mislead me, never forget me, never overlook me, and
Never cancel my appointment in His appointment book!
When I fall, He lifts me up!
When I fail, He forgives!
When I am weak, He is strong!
When I am lost, He is the way!
When I am afraid, He is my courage!
When I stumble, He steadies me!
When I am hurt, He heals me!
When I am broken, He mends me!
When I am blind, He leads me!
When I am hungry, He feeds me!
When I face trials, He is with me!
When I face persecution, He shields me!
When I face problems, He comforts me!
When I face loss, He provides for me!
When I face Death, He carries me Home!
He is everything for everybody, everywhere, every time, and every way.
He is God, He is faithful.
I am His, and He is mine!
My Father in heaven can whip the father of this world.
So, if you're wondering why I feel so secure, understand this...
He said it and that settles it.
God is in control,
I am on His side, and that means all is well with my soul.
Everyday is a blessing for GOD Is!
Because He is, I am!
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More Good Poetry
"
The Touch of the Master's Hand" is a popular piece for recitations at Student Convention, but the beauty of its message never fades.
You can hear a recitation by Bill Anderson at
http://rosemck1.tripod.com/touch-of-the-masters-hand.html
THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND
Myra Brooks Welch
Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good folk?" he cried.
"Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar ... now two ... only two ...
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three" ... but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "What am I bid for the old violin?"
As he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars ... and who'll make it two?
Two...two thousand, and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once and three thousand twice ...
Three thousand and gone!" said he.
The people cheered, but some exclaimed
"We do not quite understand ...
What changed it's worth?" and the answer came:
" 'Twas the touch of the master's hand."
And many a man with soul out of tune
And battered and scarred by sin
Is auctioned cheap by the thoughtless crowd
Just like the old violin.
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the master's hand.
O Master! I am the tuneless one
Lay, lay Thy hand on me,
Transform me now, put a song in my heart
Of melody, Lord, to Thee!
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A PSALM OF LIFE
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
“Life is but an empty dream!”
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints in the sands of time;--
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
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Putting on an accent can be a lot of fun and adds drama and character to your piece. The following are two examples suitable for boys.
THE EVOLUTIONIST
L. O. Engelmann
I know a man out our way
That always spouts off and has his say
‘Bout evolution, and all that trash;
He says he’s kin to my jackass:
Well, he ain’t no kin to me.
He says his family had to climb
Out of a puddle of mud and slime;
They was just insects at the time:
Well, they ain’t no kin to me.
He says they lived in a coconut tree
A long time ago, and then, says he,
They picked lice off from each other’s head,
And ate ‘em, after they’d squashed ‘em dead;
Well, they ain’t no kin to me.
He says his family used to live
Out in the mountains, in a cave;
They’d fight with clubs and stones an’ staves:
Well, they ain’t no kin to me.
He says they’d drag a girl by the hair
An’ take her back to the cave man’s lair;
An’ he says the girl, she didn’t care;
Well, they ain’t no kin to me.
‘Cause I’m from the people the good Lord made,
The people that Jesus came to save;
The monkey-man heads but for the grave:
He ain’t no kin to me.
Some day he’ll stand before our God,
An’ wish he hadn’t talked so loud;
An’ Jesus will look at him an’ say,
“Don’t let him in; take him away:
He ain’t no kin to Me.”
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TRACKS
Effie O. Foss
“Well, Ben, how did you like that Tract
I gave to you one day?”
The country parson asked his man
Who kept the weeds away.
“Ah, Massa, it was jes’ for me,
It sure did me some good;
I couldn’t tell why call ‘em ‘Tracks’
But now I’m sure I could.
“For when I read that little book
It track me everywhere;
It track me down the cellar-steps,
It track me up the stair.
“It track me right out to de barn—
Nen to de house it comes;
It track me all aroun’ de farm—
At las’—it track me ‘home’.
“It track me till I ‘fessed my sins—
Took dat I stole right back;
It done has tracked me to de Lawd—
God bless yo’ fer dat Track!
“I jes’ abouten wore it out—
But did yo’ wan’ ‘t back?
It’s trackin’ Mandy! An’ I knows
Jes’ why yo’ call it ‘Track’!”
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Here is another piece with several character voices (male and female), and a great deal of drama and passion. You can make your audience cry with this one.
THE THREE BIDDERS
Author unknown
Will you listen, kind friends, for a moment,
While a story to you I unfold;
A marvelous tale of a wonderful sale
Of a noble lady of old: —
How hand and heart, at an auction mart,
Both soul and body, she was sold!
‘Twas in the broad ‘King’s highway”,
Near a century ago,
That a preacher stood—though of noble blood—
Telling the fallen and low
Of a Saviour’s love, and a home above,
And a peace that they all might know.
All crowded around to listen:
They wept at the wondrous love
That could put away sin and welcome them in
To His spotless mansion above: —
While slow through the crowd a lady proud
Her gilded chariot drove.
“Make room,” cried the haughty outrider,
“You are closing the king’s highway;
My lady is late, and their Majesties wait;
Give way, good people, I pray.”
The preacher heard and his soul was stirred
And he cried to the rider, “Nay.”
Then—bending his gaze on the lady,
And marking her soft eye fall—
“And now in His name, a sale I proclaim
And bids for this fair lady call.
Who will purchase the whole—her body and soul,
Coronet, jewels and all?
“I see already three bidders—
THE WORLD steps up as the first:
‘I will give her my treasures, and all the pleasures
For which my votaries thirst;
She shall dance each day more joyous and gay,
With a quiet grave at the worst.’
“But out spoke THE DEVIL boldly:
‘The kingdoms of earth are mine.
Fair lady thy name, with an envied fame,
On their brightest tablets shall shine;
Only give me thy soul, and I give thee the whole,
Their glory and wealth to be thine.’
“And, pray, what has Thou to offer,
Thou MAN OF SORROWS unknown?
And He gently said: ‘My blood I have shed
To purchase her for mine own.
To conquer the grave, and her soul to save,
I trod the winepress alone.
“ ‘I will give her My cross of suffering,
My cup of sorrow to share;
But with endless love, in My Home above,
All shall be righted there:
She shall walk in light, in a robe of white,
And a radiant crown shall wear.’
“Thou hast heard the terms, fair lady,
That each hath offered for thee.
Which wilt thou choose, and which wilt thou lose,
This life, or the life to be?
The fable was mine, but the choice is yet thine.
Which of the three shall it be?”
“Pardon, good people,” she whispered,
As she rose from her cushioned seat; —
Full well, they way, as the crowd made way,
You could hear her pulses beat;
And each head was bare, as the lady fair
Knelt at the preacher’s feet.
She took from her hand the jewels,
The coronet from her brow;
“Lord Jesus,” she said, as she bowed her head,
“The highest bidder art Thou;
Thou gav’st for my sake, Thy life, and I take
Thine offer—and take it now.
“I know the World and her pleasures,
At best they weary and cloy;
And the Tempter is bold, but his honours and gold
Prove ever a fatal decoy;
I long for Thy rest—Thy bid is best,
Lord Jesus, I accept it with joy!”
“Amen,” said the noble preacher,
And the people wept aloud.
Years have rolled on—and they all have gone
Who formed that awe-struck crowd.
Lady and throng have been swept along,
As on the wind a morning cloud.
But the Saviour has claimed His purchase;
And around His radiant seat
A mightier throng, in an endless song
The wondrous story repeat;
And a form more fair is bending there,
Laying her crown at His feet.
