God doesn't make promises lightly,
His promises He won't forget
and the things He has done
through Jesus His Son
are the best of His promises yet.

How I marvel at the flowers,
faces turned toward the sun.
Soaking up the summer goodness
'til the day once more is done.

Then they close their fragile petals
tightly squeezing out the night,
opening them, come the morning,
when the sun is shining bright.

Daddy, Daddy, look at me.
Daddy, Daddy, come and see
What I can do.
Daddy, Daddy, look at me.
Daddy, Daddy, come and see
I love you.

I don’t want to hold your hand,
why don’t you understand?
I can do it on my own.
I’m no longer a baby
and anyhow maybe,
I feel I’ve grown.

Daddy, Daddy, dry my tear.
Daddy, Daddy, hold me near.
You knew that I could fall.
Daddy, Daddy, hold me tight.
Daddy, Daddy, soothe my fright.
I’m sorry for it all.

Daddy, Daddy, look at me.
Daddy, Daddy, come and see
What I can do
Daddy, Daddy, look at me.
Daddy, Daddy, come and see
I love you.

Cliff Top Path

A cliff top path on which to walk
to see the view perhaps to talk
of how the beauty of the day
washes over you in such a way
that all your senses come alive
suddenly no need to strive
and as you look far out to sea
wondering what it's like to be
soaring there amongst the gulls
or diving deep between the lulls
of waves that form some quite high
as if to blot out earth and sky
and drag you down down down down deep
to where the fishes play and sleep
inviting you into their home
below those waves some tipped with foam
there to stay and rest awhile
and with their antics make you smile
darting wildly to and fro
while others drift on by so slow
just like the wispy clouds above
no need to jostle push or shove
but floating there way up on high
until the time arrives to cry
and shower water on the land
some to run and some to stand
in puddles form a child's delight
to splash in carefree without fright

Who Specified This Beautiful Day?

Who specified this beautiful day
with sky so blue and clouds that play,
high above the snow capped hills,
awaiting the burst of Daffodils,
Snowdrops, Hyacinth, Crocus too,
fillimg the air with scent anew?

Who specified the snow and frost?
Who causes the wind to blow? At what cost?
Who makes the lambs to skip and bleat
and take faltering steps on faltering feet?
Who specifies joy in the heart of man,
when he beholds as no other can?

Why!!! It's the Holy one who has specified all,
from Kingly great to lowly small.
It is He, who takes from his great store,
and bestows to men upon Earths floor,
a bounteous green carpet rich and deep,
with meadow flowers a watch to keep,
The woodland trail, the babbling brook,
the lofty mountain with cranny and nook.
The ocean grand, the river wide,
with trees and bushes by the side,
more than all this He specifies Love, .
not just on a throne from heaven above.
No He came down to show the way,
so that man can follow and joyfully say,
all glory to God, who specified days,
on Earth, in Heaven, and Holy ways.
So praise Him now with trembling heart,
the King who specified all from the start.

Anyway nobody’s missed me

I don’t come to church anymore
cos nobody smiled,
I sat in a pew
looked over at you
you got me riled,
cos you never let on.

I don’t come to church anymore
cos he didn’t speak,
and she didn’t seek,
to acknowledge me.
I sat by myself
no one bothered to talk,
so I decided to walk,
I don’t come to church anymore.

NO I don’t think I’m wrong!
I just don’t belong,
I don’t fit in.
WHAT me get involved?
What would that solve?
I’ve been let down before,
and I’ll tell you what’s more
that’s why
I don’t come to church anymore.
Anyway nobody’s missed me.

SATURDAY, 11 OCTOBER 2008

Elderly Ewes First Christmas

What’s that?
A lamb’s been born?
Well, I didn’t know it was Christmas morn.
What’s that?
Spotless and clean?
Born the whole of mankind to redeem?
The Angels sang to you?
There on the hill?
Well, to your shepherds,
how could you keep still?
Can we go and see? 
Will they let us in?
I’ll give some wool,
You give that grin.

The Beauty Of Bradford

There’s beauty in this City where I live.
Not just in buildings made with large and heavy Yorkshire stone
Or in the many flower beds that abound,
with different types of flowers scattered round
Or softly swaying trees alone.Their shelter to the many birds that give.
Yes
There's beauty in this City where I live.
Such beauty there to see has always been.
Aware of it I remember even as a lad,
Though opportunity to tell I seldom had.
A beauty so unique but easy to be seen,
So in writing account of it I try to give.
Yes
There's beauty in this City where I live.
A multi cultural beauty so fresh and clean.
With childlike innocence and wisdom that age greets.
the laughter ringing through the City streets.
And of course there has always been,
The young and old their part to give.
Yes
There's beauty in this City where I live.
A beauty that shines in each and every face,
At sometime there uncovered for all to see,
There if only it's allowed to be,
The beauty of the human race.
And to Bradford it's character does give.
Yes
There's beauty in this City where I live.
A beauty there that Love alone bestows.
Even as you take the time to read what here is written.
And slowly with the realisation smitten.
And as on you this realisation grows
A share of it to others you must give.