God's Love is a Haven in the Storms of Life
By Helen Steiner Rice
God's love is like and island
in life's ocean vast and wide-
A peaceful, quiet shelter
from the restless, rising tide.
God's love is like a fortress,
and we seek protection there
When the waves of tribulation
seem to drown us in despair.
God's love's a sanctuary
where our souls can find sweet rest
From the struggle and the tension
of life's fast and futile quest.
God's love is like a tower
rising far above the crowd,
And God's smile is like the sunshine
breaking through a threatening cloud.
God's love is like a beacon
burning bright with faith and prayer,
And through the changing scenes of life
we can find a haven there.
For God's love is fashioned
after something enduring
And it is endless and unfailing
like His character above.
The Master was searching for a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many - which one would He choose?
Take me, cried the gold one, I'm shiny and bright,
I'm of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and lustre will outshine the rest
And for someone like You, Master, gold would be the best!
The Master passed on with no word at all;
He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;
I'll serve You, dear Master, I'll pour out Your wine
And I'll be at Your table whenever You dine,
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true,
And my silver will always compliment You.
Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass,
It was widemouthed and shallow, and polished like glass.
Here! Here! cried the vessel, I know I will do,
Place me on Your table for all men to view.
Look at me, called the goblet of crystal so clear,
My transparency shows my contents so dear,
Though fragile am I, I will serve You with pride,
And I'm sure I'll be happy in Your house to abide.
The Master came next to a vessel of wood,
Polished and carved, it solidly stood.
You may use me, dear Master, the wooden bowl said,
But I'd rather You used me for fruit, not for bread!
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay.
Empty and broken it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose,
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.
Ah! This is the vessel I've been hoping to find,
I will mend and use it and make it all Mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of its self;
Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf;
Nor the one who is bigmouthed and shallow and loud;
Nor one who displays his contents so proud;
Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right;
But this plain earthy vessel filled with My power and might.
Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay.
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day.
Spoke to it kindly. There's work you must do,
Just pour out to others as I pour into you.
I borrowed this from Diamondsthetherough. I hope she does not mind since I forgot to ask.
O Father up in Heaven
How good you are to me.
I thank you for the beauty
Of all the things I see;
I thank you for your kindness
In everything you’ve done,
And most of all I thank you
For Jesus, your dear Son.
I’m glad that he was willing
To die for me one day,
So he could be my Saviour,
And take my sins away.
