Category Archives: Poems

A Single Tear


The children rushed to see Him, shouting as they came,

“He’s coming!” rang throughout the streets, all knowing of His fame.

They laughed and danced and cried for joy because the King was near,

And all rushed out to see Him: the One they loved so dear.

“It’s Jesus, the One from Nazareth, He healed my son, you know.”

“And I can see!” the blind man cried. “He spoke, and it was so.”

And so they came, hearts full of joy, for surely He would rule;

The prophets said He’d come this way—Messiah, King of all!

And as He rode and saw their joy, and listened to their cries,

He also saw the mocking jeers, their shouts to crucify.

“Mama, see there—a single tear rests on His holy cheek.”

“It cannot be, my child, for He is King of all, you see.”

But though the others only saw the King they sought to reign,

The child saw beyond the pomp and cried the Savior’s name.

He looked her way and gave a nod that others did not see.

“Be brave, my child,” His eyes relayed. “All this was meant to be.”

The King they sought would one day ride into this city bright,

With blood-red vestures and a crown, upon a charger white.

And though that day was far away, He saw His kingdom too,

A kingdom filled with blood-washed saints because of what He’d do.

“Hosanna, to the King of King! He comes in the name of the LORD!”

They strewed the streets for Jesus—the One whom they adored.

He loved them for their loyalty when they had given their best,

And He would love them from the cross, when they had done their worst.

How many more will cry, “Hosanna!” on the day prescribed,

And yet tomorrow at the shop, forget He lived and died

To pay sin’s price, to give us life? And can we live for Him

A few days out of every year, and live the rest in sin?


Mary’s Part

Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment. John 12: 3

It lingers still: the sweet, sweet scent

Upon His robe, where’re He went.

Mary’s box of treasure rare,

Was also trapped upon her hair.

To the city, Jesus rode,

A donkey held the Precious Load,

The palms were strewn upon the lane,

The fragrance followed as He came.

While questioned, “Which command is best?”

They tried to put Him to the test;

And as He spoke, His eyes aflame,

Because, in unbelief they came,

His words were strong, filled with demand:

“Tis love toward God and fellow man.”

But there it came: delightful trail,

That spoke of love, when they had failed.

And even as He washed the feet,

And served the bread and cup, the sweet

Now familiar, quite irksome balm,

Trailed every move, and sang its song.

“Do to other’s as I have done,”

His words and deeds did match the tone,

And brought the meaning to each heart,

As each remembered Mary’s part.

Did that sweet fragrance hedge Him in

When He knelt alone: without, within?

Did burly soldiers stop and question,

Why such a scent was all about Him?

His robe was taken and thrown aside,

Yet wisps of perfume still abide

Upon His head and mangled beard,

Though torn and tainted now with blood.

“It is finished,” loud His cry,

And though the life within Him died,

Upon His broken body remains,

The sweet reminder of why He came.

Early, as the morning dawns,

And angels come and death is gone.

The clothes are all that still remains,

Except for one small whiff that came

And served its every purpose well,

Its small, but weighty story to tell.

The story of a woman’s heart,

Who paid the price to do her part.

When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.

Matthew 26:10-13

Thank You, Lord

ID-100193008I came across this “poem”–it’s more of a prayer–the other day and thought I’d share it for Mother’s Day.  Our oldest turned thirty this year!  How did that happen?  As I read the poem, it seemed like yesterday that I was the one in the hospital giving birth.  Tommy arrived at 2:47 am after twenty-two hours of labor and a C-section.  I remember years later, talking to a woman who had had a similar situation, and she said she would never have any more children.  I’m so thankful the Lord gave me the grace to have two more C-sections.  And, as much as I would have loved to live in the colonial days, I probably would have died during childbirth!

Now, after seeing our three children happily married  and enjoying the role of grand-parenting five times over, I dedicate this poem to my daughter, who is ready to deliver our fourth grandson any day, and to our daughter-in-law, who recently gave us our first granddaughter.  What a joy to know that the souls of our grandchildren are in the hands of godly parents, who are determined to do their best to pass the baton of godliness.

 Thank you , Lord

Dear Lord, Heavenly Father

Thank you for Thomas James…

He’s beautiful, healthy and sweet, but Lord thank you too…

  • For the long labor – it taught me long-suffering
  • For the high fever – it taught me to trust You
  • For the sleepless times – it taught me Your ever presence.
  • For Tommy’s struggle to nurse – it taught me patience.
  • For the sins of the world all around me – it taught me to work on my testimony and gave me a passion for souls.
  • For the weakness, and soreness, and pain – it taught me to lean on Your arms.
  • For nine months of pregnancy – it taught me that this body is Yours, not mine.

Thank you, Lord; please keep me yielded to learn more.

January 18, 1985

 Happy Mother’s Day

May you allow the Lord to turn each trial into a classroom, and every difficult circumstance into an opportunity to learn more about your God.

Dost Thou Not Care?

But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said,

Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?

bid her therefore that she help me.

Luke 10:40


“Dost thou not care?” The words still ring in my ear!

“Dost thou not care?” How could I have said such a thing

To the Holy Son of God; my Savior and Friend, so dear?

“Dost thou not care?” To the One who bore my sting!


“Dost thou not care?” It played over and over

Every time we met, I can hear them still:

“Dost thou not care?” Till my heart can bear it no more!

“Dost thou not care?” There on Calvary’s hill!


Oh, how He cares! Even in the rebuke He made,

His love showed clear, in His voice, in His eyes.

When He came once again, and we stood near the grave,

And we talked of my loss, of a brother’s last goodbye,


And I saw it afresh, as He stood there and wept.

How could I ever have thought less?

Oh, how He cared for each soul that He met.

Every word, look, and touch was love’s caress.


Oh, how He cares, and cares, and cares!

He cares with a perfect will and way,

His purpose for coming was to show that He cares!

Though I did not see it on that horrible day.


“Dost thou not care?” Though it plagues me still,

It serves as a goad to prod my sinful heart,

And turns my thoughts, my way, and my will:

To show His loving kindness and to do my part.


Dost thou not care–Oh yes! He cares!

The Cost of Saying, “No.”

What if we say, “No,”

What would be the cost?

How rough would be the path;

How much would it cost?

When Jesus calls us to a task

Whether big or very small,

If we do not what He asks,

How great will be our fall?

Would I sacrifice the sweetness

That permeates our home?

Would disobedience reign

And sit upon the throne

Of my heart, instead of joy

And peace in serving Him?

Would I lose my children’s hearts?

Would Satan really win?

Oh, the cost of saying, “No,”

When our Savior gently woos

Us to a path that He would choose.

Oh, how much I would lose!

Do you struggle with the right answer to God?  What is it that He is asking you to do?  It may seem like just a small thing, but if you know that He wants you to do it…JUST SAY YES! Saying YES not only brings more blessings into our lives than we can imagine, more importantly, it brings glory to God and shows this dying world His power in our lives.

Saying YES to God in the little things as well as the big things shows a servant-heart.  Saying YES will often conflict with your schedule, your desires, perhaps even your wrong priorities, but may I say that your schedule, your desires and your priorities will never bring lasting joy and peace if you have had to say NO to God in order to fulfill them.

Just try one thing.  You know the verse: Philippians 3:13 Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,  I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

So, what is it that God’s been knocking on your heart’s door about?  Maybe it’s a small thing, maybe it’s life-changing! We never know the cost of saying, “NO” to God.  He’s not mean – He does everything perfectly; however, those consequences can be startling!

He gives us lots of warning-examples in the Bible:

Adam said, “No,” and lost paradise.

Cain said, “No,” and lost his reputation.

Lot said, “No,” and lost his family.

Moses said, “No,” and couldn’t enter into the Promised Land.

Saul said, “No,” and lost his kingdom.

David said said, “No,” and and lost his children.

Solomon said, “No,” and and lost his wisdom.

Nebuchadnezzar said, “No,” and lost his sanity.

The rich young ruler said, “No,” and lost his opportunity to be with Jesus.

Peter said, “No,” and lost his fellowship with God’s Son.

Ananias and Saffira said, “No,” and lost their lives.

But oh, the blessing of saying, “Yes!”  Look at all the blessings:

Abel received God’s blessing.

Abraham received God’s friendship.

Moses received heavenly vision.

Joseph received Egypt’s wealth and Jacob’s double blessing.

Gideon received impossible leadership.

David received a heart like God’s.

Peter received forgiveness,

And they all received, God’s “well done.”

A Mother’s Prayer

It is the prayer of a mother that makes this country strong.

For through a mother’s prayers, her children come to God.

On bended knee prays the mother, and the Lord will use her son;

Christian beauty springs forth in her daughter –

Because of prayer, a soul is won.

May our land be filled with mothers who will take the time to pray,

Show the love of our Savior through a living faith each day.

It is the faith of a mother that shows through word and deed:

Through trials and all fears, with each heartache and every tear.

And by the faith of a mother, the child knows that God is near –

The wandering one returns, because of faith and mother’s tears.

It is the love of a mother that cradles all life’s cares.

In the early morning hours, the troubled child will know she’s there.

And only love of a mother can sooth his tearful cry.

It makes the house a home,

and leads each child to Calvary.

May our land be filled with mothers who will take the time to pray,

Show the love of our Savior through a living faith each day.

– Wanda MacAvoy 1985

My husband and I will sing this song this morning in our worship service.  I wrote it back in 1985!  That was the year our first child was born, and I remember feeling the awesome responsibility of raising a son for Christ.

945012_10151643649125839_1720320412_nThis week, our third grandson came into the world, and once again, my heart is stirred by the same responsibility now transformed through the eyes of a grandmother!  Grandchildren give life a whole new wonderful perspective!  When all the worries and woes that this world pours into our lives try to crush out all hope and meaning to life – there are grandchildren – that next generation to rekindle that hope!

However, we also just finished a week of revival meetings with Barry Webb, and I once again realize that there is an even greater, more wonderful hope in Jesus Christ because of the mighty work that He is doing in our lives!  Many decisions were made this week, and it too gives me hope!

As Christians, nothing gives this life more meaning than the Gospel of our Savior.  Living, loving, serving and dying for the cause of Christ secures our anchor into a far better world – a world we long to see, a place called heaven.  I don’t want to go empty-handed, and God help any of us, if our poor testimony causes our children or grandchildren to miss that mark! The greater song then, is the theme song for the Preacher Boys at Bob Jones University.  May it be the song of mothers today!

Souls for Jesus,
is our battle cry
Souls for Jesus,
we’ll fight until we die!
We never will give in,
While souls are lost in sin!
Souls for Jesus,
is our battle cry!

A New Year

ID-100125807Happy New Year!  At times, I complain about the clock and look forward to an eternal heaven where time shall be no more; however, today I thank the Lord for a new beginning.  Oh, how we need them!

The following poem is from The Continual Burnt Offering, a 1941 daily devotional book by H. A. Ironside.  As I read it, I thought it put life into perspective for this New Year.

The Maker of the universe

As Man, for man was made a curse.

The claims of Law which He had made,

Unto the uttermost He paid.

His holy fingers made the bough

Which grew the thorns that crowned His brow.

The nails that pierced His hands were mined

In secret places He designed.

He made the forest whence there sprung

The tree on which His body hung.

He died upon a cross of wood,

Yet made the hill on which it stood.

The sky that darkened o’er His head

By Him above the earth was spread.

The sun that hid from Him its face

Be His decree was poised in space.

The spear which spilled His precious blood

Was tempered in the fires of God.

The grave in which His from was laid,

Was hewn in rocks His hands had made.

The throne on which He now appears

Was His from everlasting years,

But a new glory crowns His brow,

And every knee to Him shall bow.

— F. W. Pitt

 For those of you who are familiar with the movie White Christmas, think for a moment about one particular scene.  They are all sitting in the grist mill inn are the ladies sing.  Bing Crosby makes as statement about his former general who now owns the inn: “We ate, then he ate; we slept, then he slept.”  He was really bothered by the fact that this man whom he served under was now serving him.

What a wonderful picture of our God!  I serve Him because of His great example as Servant!  I die to selfish ambitions because He died for me!  May this year find you joyfully serving the Great God of the Universe Who came and died that we might live!

Master of the Wind

Master of the wind,

Ruler of the stars,

God of the universe

Who dwells within my heart!

How can it be, dear One,

Who spoke the worlds in place,

That You, Almighty Elohim,

Full of love and grace,

Would dwell among a people

So bent to live in sin;

Yea, more than dwell: You conquered death

And come to live within!

How could we think that with our hands,

Our lives could be made clean?

Can deeds of goodness, small or great,

Our sinful souls redeem?

What could I do to ever pay

The debt of sin I owe?

Sin’s stain runs deep and deeper still –

“Condemnation” stamped my soul.

But Jesus!  Oh, Sweet Jesus!

Before the mark of time,

You promised to redeem me

And make my story Thine.

You died; You rose; You offered –

I saw; I wept; I took;

And now, O Blessed Savior –

My name is in Your Book!

The Perfect Potter

I’m in the hands of the Potter:

My life was useless clay,

Until His gentle hands took me

From the storage room that day.

He took this hardened lump of dirt

And squeezed again and again;

I really did not know Him then

Or what was in His plan.

And when my heart was ready –

My will and life would yield

To the hands of the Perfect Potter –

He took me to His wheel.

I could not see what His eyes saw,

To me, this lump was a mess;

What could He possible do with it?

I am clay – no more, no less.

But He proved me wrong upon His wheel,

For as He pressed this clay,

I became just what He planned for me –

Complete in Him that day.

My clay is now His vessel;

He uses it as He wills.

My life – His plan, My will in His hand:

Perfected upon His wheel.

“…as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are ye in mine…”

Jeremiah 128:6