I'm praying for you
I'm praying for you,but not the way I usually do
I'm praying for you I hope it went well for you
I'm praying for you its not something I ever do
I would ordinarily just want you for mine
no other words would ever cross my mind
I'm praying for you I think I'm doing it right
in this prayer I want you to be ok tonight
I am praying for you
Dear Lord make her safe, later make her mine.

Written by Travis Ray Cole{c}copyright1997

Send an email to Travis!

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Renew My Love

By E.J. Ludwig.

Let my mouth open! Let a great

Chasan's voice emerge,

A voice of renewal….

Baruch shem kavod -

Jesus is the one for me…love me again

Jesus; I love you again.

My first love, always my first.

Be a poem under my skin,

Irritate me with love so I might win.

Again, Jesus I hear your urgent cry…

Find me again and stop my sighs.

Elohenu melech ha'olam: I feel your breath

The Holy Spirit is upon me. His Presence

Fills me. Baruch ata adonai…Lift me up Lord.

I'm flying to you filled  with your love

JEW ON THE SUBWAY

by Edward J. Ludwig

A thirties-young Jew on the subway

Hairy-gray

Around his skull cap,

A flat black semi-globe cloth

Cements him to God - seriously.

His eyes flex against mortality,

Combine chains of Hebrew letters -

Making words for God, of God:

Melech hagadol, elohim, nefesh kadosh, adonai,

Hashem.

His open left hand covers his mouth;

His nose rests nonchalantly in the "V"

Where base of thumb meets hand.

Washed-green eyes connect with God

In space, projecting prayers

Onto a finger-stained aluminum pole.

He inspires me to poetry - words

Come in schools like English-speaking fish.

I want to send an urgent message

To his brain-gray brain:

God does not want right to left prayer-dreams:

Seeks instead His Son in every breath

And uncovered mouths singing praise.

Today's Unbelief Was Found At Calvary

By Edward J. Ludwig

They are dead in spirit, living on dry and barren ground.

The unbelieving ones say "have a nice day" to other

cheered-up sinners, eating bread without nourishment.

They are full of sorrow; yet never know remorse

Because there's nothing new in what they feel:

We saw them at Calvary smiling with infinite scorn.

The unbelievers say they share our human common plight:

Today is pleasure, joy, and hope; tomorrow comes with tragic speed.

"Who can overcome?" they ask.

Life's relentless with its pain.

An unbelieving, unwonderful philosophy of resignation here for two thousand years:

At Calvary they mocked and spit into the holy face.

The unrepentant deny the god-centered spirit man;

With zeal defend the right of each to build his destiny alone.

"If I don't make the world in which I live," they say,

"then why was I given mind and heart and hands?"

"Pride's been here for so long," they add, "and forever will it be."

Not knowing what they did at Calvary: they made the cross

 and drove the nails and cast lots for His clothes.

INDIVIDUAL
BY Edward J. Ludwig

To build a ministry, build a heart
Take the Word of God to start;
Leaven it with faith and love
To start below, you reach above.

To build a ministry, show your light
Take God's gifts to make things right;
Lift up souls with words divine,
Jesus will your life define.

To build a ministry, open doors
Cast out all that Christ deplores;
Replace with hope, a special gem,
He comes for "us" as well as "them".

To build a ministry, take a step
Your mind's renewal to accept;
Knowing every time we fall,
We will be lifted by His call.

To build a ministry, fix your eyes
Eternal life will be your prize;
Turn your back on worldly cares
Believe the Lord is always there.

To build a ministry, reveal the Son
Let others see what you have won;
An empty vessel cannot quench thirst
Strive in love to be the first.

To build a ministry, sing His praise
To lift Him up for endless days;
Crying out thanks for boundless grace
Gratitude cannot be erased.

To build a ministry, use your speech to pray
Fervent longings for a better day;
The Christ within will hear without
To make His promises come about.

To build a ministry, show you care
With reaching arms to burdens bear;
To rise above the pain of life
We give of self, thus ending strife.

Send E.J. Ludwig an email

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Passover

By Melissa Laurel Simpson

A Feast Revealing God's Great Love.
Miracles Came From Up Above.
To Free His People God Would Send
A Man Called Moses To Defend
His People. He Would Take A Stand.
He'd Take Them Out Of Pharaoh's Hand,
And Lead Them To The Promised Land.

A Feast Revealing God's Great Love.
His Miracle Came From Up Above.
To Save His People He Sent His Son.
A Victory, Over Satan, Won.
Our Holy Lamb That Day Was Slain.
To Die For Us Was Why He Came.
His Blood Cleansed Every Sinful Shame.

This Feast Revealing God's Great Love,
These Miracles From Up Above,
Although Our Days Sometimes Seem Dim,
Remind Us Why We Worship Him.
He Knows How Long These Days Will Last.
He's Seen The Darkest Shadows Cast.
Our Troubles, Too, Will Soon Be Passed.

Send Melissa an email

HYMN FOR THE HIGH HOLIDAYS

by Fred Klett (www.chaim.org)

The day of atonement has come once for all,
Messiah has paid for our sins.
He came to deliver us from mankind's fall.
Forgiveness comes only through Him.

As the High priest laid hands on the scapegoat of old
And confessed on it Israel's disgrace,
So our sins are removed as the prophets foretold,
By Messiah who died in our place.

Do Teshuvah my people and bow at his feet,
For one day the shofar shall sound.
The Judge will return and the King we'll all meet,
The nations will humbly bow down.

Let us worship Messiah, Our King and God's Son,
All Israel come and adore!
Give praise to Yeshua, He's our Holy One,
Our Redeemer, our Savior, our Lord.

PASCHAL LAMB

by Fred Klett

On the tree of cursing hung the paschal lamb,
Bearing all our judgement -- the suff'ring Son of Man.
He bore the sin of Adam, God's wrath fell down on him,
And all who trust his refuge are counted free of sin.

His death acheived our blessing, earned the Father's love,
His payment reconciles us with the LORD above.
He rose again in vict'ry, triumphed o'er the grave.
He shares his resurrection with those he came to save.

He reigns above from Heaven, the scepter in his hand.
The message of God's blessing is proclaimed in ev'ry land
One day he'll come in splendor as judge of ev'ry man.
So live your life for Jesus and serve him while you can.

All glory to the Father, All worship to the Son,
All praises to the Spirit, Eternal three in one
All glory to the Father, All worship to the Son,
All praises to the Spirit, Eternal three in one

Blood on the Strings

by Fred Klett

Righteous and just are your Holy commands,
Complete obedience your word demands,
When Law's bright mirror is held to my face,
My horrid visage condemns with disgrace.

Where can I run from your all seeing eyes?
My sin destroys me, it reeks to the skies.
There is no hope if in flesh I will trust,
I deserve Hell for my pride, greed, and lust.

Then I looked up to a cross, and I saw,
There is but one who obeyed your just Law.
His spotless life won my rank as a son,
His painful death my forgiveness has won.

Only through faith can I ever be saved,
Jesus has conquered both sin and the grave.
I trust in him, He received all the wrath,
And now he leads me on God's Holy path.

When he returns and brings judgement of flame,
Angels will shout, men will cringe in their shame,
But I will rise, safe, secure in His grace,
And I'll extol Him, beholding His face.

Praise to the Father, praise to the Son,
Praise to the Spirit, God three in One.
He is Creator, Redeemer and Lord,
Let us all worship in joyful accord.

Send Fred an email

****************************************************

The Poetry of Irene Huq

CHAI

A thirst for meaning
All is empty unless dedicated to a higher cause

I am caught in the useless act of chasing after the wind

Often in the hectic pace of life
I stop to catch
My GOD given breath
and before my eyes is meaning
represented in the ultimate act
of precious blodd shed for me

Suddenly my life is beautiful
GOD's
priceless vessel

A work of art that will never perish

Irene Huq
Written 1994

Yom HaShoa

By Irene Huq

Adonai, What were Your thoughts

During those gruesome days

When the smell of flesh

drifted to Your nostrils

and the skies darkened with the ashes

of Your chosen people

Adonai, how Your heart

must have ached

You saw the oppression

of Your people

You heard the cries of Your people

being gassed

being tortured

being shot

and You heard 6 million

Shema Yisrael...

Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad...

before You received all those

broken spirits

O, the misery and pain!!!

HELL ON EARTH!!!

THE HOLOCAUST

Please HaShem

Yeshua HaMashiach

Never again!!!

Irene Huq

Yom HaShoa 1998

Your email to Irene is welcomed!

****************************************************

EVERY EYE SHALL BEHOLD HIM

by Carmen Bumgardner

When Yeshua comes again in all His glory,

The dead in Yeshua shall be the first to rise.

Then every eye shall behold Him,

Every voice proclaim

Yeshua, Yeshua is King!

We shall all be changed, in new bodies

Saved by His grace,

We shall see Him face to face.

We'll be just like Him.

We'll enter His gates with thanksgiving,

Enter His courts with joy and praise,

The name of G-d on our foreheads

Everlasting our days.

Then every eye shall behold Him,

Every voice proclaim,

Yeshua, Yeshua is King!

There'll be no need for sun or moon.

For His glory shines brightly,

His glory shines brightly

From the throne of G-d.

We'll drink from rivers of life, clear as crystal.

There'll be no more death or dying,

No sorrow or crying.

We will walk on streets of gold.

Then every eye shall behold Him,

Every voice proclaim,

Yeshua, Yeshua is King!

Note: {Yeshua is Hebrew for Jesus}

SCRIPTURE VERSES

1Thes 4:14-18

1Cor 15:50-54

Rev 21:21-23

Rev 22:1

Rev 22:4

© 1998 Carmen Bumgardner

HE SAID COME

by Carmen Bumgardner

In the beginning was the Word,

And the Word was with G-D.

And the Word was G-D

The Word was made flesh,

And dwelt among us.

G-D sent His Word that men might see

The Lamb of G-D -- a sacrifice,

To save the world

And set men free.

He healed the sick.

He raised the dead.

Made the weak to be strong

By the words that He said.

He said "Come", to every people.

He said "Come", to every nation.

"I have given you a free gift.

I have given unto you -- Salvation."

"I have poured out for you

My Living Water,

That all who thirst

May come and drink."

"All who labor -- and are weary,

I will give you rest.

My gift is free.

Come unto ME."

"All who accept my sacrifice,

Are no longer dead in sin.

They're made new in eternal life,

For my Spirit lives within."

He said "Come", to every people.

He said "Come", to every nation.

"I have given you a free gift.

I have given unto you -- Salvation!"

Sung by Candy De Vicariis and Tom Beck

at Kehilat Ariel Messianic Congregation on

the day my grandson Austin died in 1995.

SCRIPTURE VERSES:

John 1:1 & John 1:14

John 3:15

John 7:37

John 8:32 & John 8:36

Mat 11:5 & Mat 11:28

© 1998 Carmen Bumgardner

Your email to Carmen is welcomed! (via her daughter's email address)

****************************************************

DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
by Frank Krautter MD

I remember Abraham, his utter faith, "my wife to bear?"
"I believe," then those miserable words, "how can I know?"
This faith so great, as righteousness counted.
"How can I know?" bitter, biting spectral wind.

The Lord's response, I search the meaning.
The heifer, goat, ram and birds; split in two,
Framing the path, He was to walk midst the bloody gore.
This symbol of holy promise.

Horror, then horrors, vultures came, eager to devour, this seal of God.
Abram drives them off, then sinks into abyss of dread, darkness, and sleep.
What is this, a voice exploding, "Know for certain, this will be."
Promise told, assurance came.

Holy promise sealed, His smoking pot, and blazing torch.
Visible Theos walking between the broken dripping flesh.
This too, shall be my fate, if, this promise I fail to keep.
Who can doubt the Almighty's word?

Can I know as Abram did, visible God, in my heart
Speaking loud to my deaf ears, cold wind blowing against my soul.
Seeking, hunting, a crevice to enter.
But I am caulked, with history's knowing, God's fire many times.

Abram's torch, Moses's bush, Joshua's captain, Pentecost fire.
And the nation, The Nation, The Chosen Nation.
It is still there, the promise lives, I've only to look to history,
Fire, flame, cold banished, that lingering stain burning. To Know!

© July 14, 1995, inspired by a message by RC Sproul. Published in "The Salt &
the Light" Vol 1 No 2 Autumn 1995

We honor the passing of Dr. Krautter on Feb. 15th, 2001.

He is a beloved brother in Christ and a notable poet.

Sincerely,

Marshall Beeber

****************************************************

THE GREAT ARTIST

by Brian Long

Cadence of moon-spun ocean tides
and sonnets of snowflake symmetry.
Songs of Summer storms
and the prose in desert sand
and red-rock canyons.

He has written me with
His ink in my veins,
and I have been painted
by the brush of sun- and starlight
while facing skyward,
I drank into my soul
the poetry of rain.

Nature is the muse of God,
this Earth but a poem in edit...

--(c) brian long Jan 01 1998

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SYMBOLS

by Brian Long

Shadows fall like flooding rains to pool and form the night

as time witihn its secrecy moves on in restless flight.

Sparkling, spinning, falling lights on black and endless sea,

and subtle, shining Orb of Night casts meaning down to me:

In darkest times and deepest night, light is there above;

encircling stars and graceful moon are symbols of God's love...

(c) 1998 brian long

****************************************************

EDEN

by Brian Long

The plaque screamed out to me in raised letters:

"JOHN WHITE SETTLED HERE IN 1797

AND THUSLY WAS THE FOUNDER OF ALL YOU SEE AROUND YOU"

So I looked around me:

Plastic bags and forgotten paper

scuttled along the concrete

like lost and fallen spirits,

they scraped the pavement

and bunched in filthy corners,

their rustling voices whispering

"uselessss, uselessss."

A thin stream of murky water,

speckled with oily rainbows,

seeped from a choked drain

as if it were a wound;

the city bleeding its sickness,

the stream seeking a downhill route

out of this forsaken place,

craving dilution.

Smokestacks, somewhere just out of site,

coughed black clouds of cancer

into the haze

above decrepit buildings that rose upward all around me,

reaching for what, I may never know,

but it is obvious they never made it.

Their windows were all broken,

the doors boarded up,

they towered above me,

staring at me with hollowed, sightless eyes

like corpses;

Pigeons, frail sooted wings,

huddled together in the windowsills like flies

gathered around a carcass,

and I willed them to just fly,

take wing and get out of here.

But they only walked around in circles,

their voices in a derelict chorus,

muttering complaints that no one will hear

and have no resolution, anyway.

I couldn't help but wonder:

was this plaque

a celebration of our progress;

a salute to the dead giants propped up around me,

or was it

an apology to the ghosts who haunt us?

"Look at what we've done to your meadows

to your streams,

look at what we've done to your bright blue sky..."

There was no answer to be given.

The wind moaned to me a dirge:

"ssoorrooww, ssoorrooww",

and I stepped off the curb

to find my way home.

At the corner

a homeless man stood leaning

against a lampost, sagging in his filth.

I stopped to ask if all was well,

but he only looked at me with eyes

that reminded me of the buildings around us

and whispered,

"I am John White. Where is my Eden?"

But before I could answer,

he walked past me,

and was gone.

We have already burned this Eden, sir.

That's why God has made us another in heaven,

where when we get there

we are already dead,

and can do it no harm.

(c)--1996--Brian Long

******************************************************

FUNERAL

by Brian Long

The day is dying.

Time has thrown its spear

and the wound is more than mortal;

it is mortality itself.

Clusters of clouds

embay the injured sun like hastily applied bandages,

and are stained pink

at the bleeding of the light.

Moths appear like tattered angels

to usher the present into past.

An owl haunts the darkening marsh,

mourning into the dusk

and its knell asks,

"Who?"

Who will bury this day?

Who will lower the sun into the cold and waiting earth?

The day grows dimmer,

tiring in its hemmorrhage

as the treefrogs and crickets sing in hushed, peaceful chorus

a requiem to its passing.

The stoic night arrives,

Dressed in preistly black,

to whisper rites that become the breeze,

sending chill into the marsh pond's soul

causing its skin to wrinkle.

At last this light has died, the day is gone,

and the night embraces the world

in quiet smpathy.

We grieve in our survival, abandoned.

Like ancients seeking wisdom from signs

we peer heavenward for consolation

to find the sky full of many suns;

many todays, many yesterdays, and tomorrows.

How clever of God to fill our darknesses

with reminders of what once was,

and small, sparkling promises

of what will yet be.

Greive not the day.

(c)1994--Brian Long--

**********************************************

IDOLTRY

by Brian Long

This is how it all began

with nothing else but shapeless space

God made nature, Earth, and man;

a balance delicate as lace,

but we wore our Eden wan.

We made our walls of dry hard stone,

made our spears of dull grey ore.

We worked ourselves to withered bone,

sold our souls for cash (and wanted more)

to find we were agnostic and alone.

We made an idol and called it science,

and worshiped well our indifferent god.

We schooled our children into compliance,

researched in earnest our arrogant fraud,

and held it high to heaven in defiance.

To all our praise to all we thought we were

God waited and sadly listened.

To our numbers we would all defer;

our souls were bought rather than christened.

Right, wrong, good, bad, we would "spin" into a blur.

This is how it all will end:

we will amass a giant debt

to an earth we cannot mend.

This idol god will slay us yet,

at least for that on science, we can depend.

(c)1998--Brian Long--

Your email to Brian Long is welcomed!

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THE MORNING STAR

by Joe Medrek

The Messiah of Bethlehem,

from a stable born,

through most humble beginnings,

His birthright shorn.

The Magi knew,

that He was most special,

because of the Star

and where it had settled.

The Messiah of Bethlehem,

from a stable born,

the night on the cross,

as His followers mourned.

Getting back to the HisStory

of the miracle that night,

What's the meaning,

and the message

of the star that shone bright?

From before the beginning

He came from afar,

the Creator of the Universe,

The Bright, Morning Star.

Copyright 1998 Joe Medrek

___________________________________________

BETHLEHEM

There's a star in the sky,

and it shines in the east,

It's bright and it's beautiful

and something to see.

I'm following that star

though wondering

"Why me?"

In my heart

there's a know

It's the place I must be.

Copyright 1998 Joe Medrek

________________________________

DIVINE PROCLAMATION

The shofar has blown

the assembly convened,

the proclamation went out

from the King of all Kings.

The secret is out

to share of His wisdom,

The order was given

to tell all the Kingdom.

Copyright 1998 Joe Medrek

Click the banner-link above for Joe Medrek's poetry website!

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Majesty

by Ephraim W. Mosier

The ocean waves rolled on to the shore,

And kissed the souls of my feet.

I watched in wonder as the setting sun,

Plunged into the deep.

Sky, sun, ocean, and sand,

The day has been complete.

The ocean breeze touched my brow,

And arrested the evening heat.

The day had ended and I felt so fulfilled,

As I sat there in the sand.

The sky was a canvas ablaze with color,

Painted by the Master's hand.

I watched in wonder as the painting changed,

From evening into night.

One by one the stars appeared,

As majestic points of light.

As I marveled at the artistry of his own hand,

I knew that I had been touched.

This masterpiece of nature spoke the words,

I love you so very much.

______________

COPYRIGHT 1998, by Ephraim W. Mosier. All right reserved.

Your email to Ephraim Mosier is welcomed!