Jonquil by Henry Beer |Poem

 

Look what Mr. in the Mid-west brought me
last week! :)

The Jonquil

The Jonquil is a charming flower

Which blooms in April's sun and shower;

It blooms quite early in the spring

When blossoms burst, and songbirds sing.

Few flowers share with it in fame;

It has such sweet and varied names;

In former days, as well as ours,

The folks called them Easter flowers.

But Jonquil is the polished name,

By men of higher rank and fame.

The common people call it still

The lovely, cheerful Daffodil.

Then, when recedes the winter's cold,

We see them break the frosty mold

And raise their heads to welcome spring,

While birds their springtime carols sing.

Their blossoms, trumpetlike, proclaim

The glory due that worthy Name,

Who at the time the Jonquils bloom

Arose triumphant from the tomb.

The Jonquil blossoms fill the air

With fragrance sweet, yet mild and rare;

Where'er they bloom, it is a thrill

To see the golden Daffodils.

They take their place in Nature's plan

When in the spring they bloom again.

By Henry Beer

My Garden of Verse

Page 53

The Family Man By Henry Beer | Poem

Much of what Mr. Beer says regarding fatherhood I relate to as a mother, too. Being a parent teaches you things that no other experiences completely match. Children are all different and you never quite have everything figured out. No matter the difficulties, the rewards of  loving and nurturing children are well worth the efforts. Children are so precious!

The Family Man

Full many lessons we may learn
From various walks of life,

In business, home, or market place,

Amid earth's toil and strife.

I've studied in the common schools,

The higher schools as well,

I have a little learning, too,

I think I'm safe to tell.

But since I am a family man,

New problems come to view,

I have some strange perplexities,

Each day brings them anew.

The learning I have found in books

Is insufficient here.

If we were but a Solomon,

The way would seem quite clear.

Each child is precious to our heart,

They make a lively school.

To govern then in proper ways,

I find no common rule.

Some will respond with tender words,

And others must be shown;

Some will together work and play,

Some wish to be alone.

And precious lessons I have learned

From all these girls and boys.

A home where children are not found,

Had missed most precious joys.

Though some may covet wealth and gain,

Some revel in earth's strife,

I only want a little home,

With peaceful family life.

The mother and the father both

Must mutual burdens bear;

In all the trials of family life,

They mutually must share.

'Tis not until out children grow

To youthful days and years,

That we ourselves can understand

Our parents' cares and tears.

As we must learn to know and teach

Each child at every turn,

So have I in my family life

Some precious lessons learned.

The gift of patience, tolerance,

To love, instruct and plan-

To learn the art of compromise

Becomes a family man.

And since we see, and understand,

And only know in part,

May He who loves each child of yore

Still come and rule their heart.

When father, mother, children, all

In loving ties are bound,

Of all the joys on earth I know

None sweeter here are found.

By Henry Beer

My Garden Of Verse

Page 181-182

At Church On Time By Henry Beer | Poem

At Church on Time

I like to be at church on time,
To join in doing and prayer,

And with the brethren of the Lord

The morning blessings share.

Our faith is a profession

And it requires zeal;

We do by prompt attendance

Our inner state reveal.

And many will rise early

Some earthly thing to gain,

For such they strive to be on time

Their object to attain.

The principals of business

To faith should be applied;

This value of true worship

Will evermore abide.

When children have a hunger,

You'll see each little face

Quite early at the table

In proper time and place.

And if we truly love the Lord,

And cherish things divine,

We'll gather there in one accord

And strive to be on time.

How oft our hearts are burdened!

For instant help we plead!

What if the Lord would come too late

And not regard our need?

And when He gathers to His side

His saints from every clime

Then when He says "Come unto Me"

I hope to be on time.

By Henry Beer

My Garden of Verse

Page 183

Envy By Henry Beer | Poem

 Envy

No, I will not envy
Others in their lot.

Blest are some with riches,

Blest, who have it not.

Envy is an evil,

Envy leads to sin.

Guard thy soul and conscience,

Lest it enter in.

Satan uses envy,

And, with canning art.

Makes the soul to covet,

Fills with greed the heart.

Envy not men's riches,

Talents, honor, fame;

These can only profit

Used in Jesus' name.

Are you prone to covet

What your friends possess?

Covet the true riches,

Jesus' righteousness.

Avarice and envy,

Coveting, combined-

Weapons of destruction

Satan has designed.

By Henry Beer

My Garden of Verse

Page 180

The Wild Geese By Henry Beer | Poem

The Wild Geese

I saw a flock of wild geese fly
Across the somber autumn sky,
In orderly formation!

As to the South they took their flight,

From wing to wing in cloudy height

I gazed in admiration.

A destined course they seem to take,

Their nests and summer haunts forsake,

And fly to sunny regions.

In close formation you can see

Them make the sign of victory

By following their leader.

They take their course high in the air

And thus elude the hunter's snare;

They know the Fowler's tactics.

I thought how much akin to life,

For men, like them, in earthly strife

Must have a guide and leader.

Our God and Father did provide

For us a Captain, shield and guide,

In Christ, the Prince, Emanuel.

If, like these fowls, we ever stay

With Christ, our leader, on the way

We'll find out goal in safety.

Thanks! Thanks to you, my friends on high!

As from my wandering gaze you fly

You've taught a noble lesson.

November By Henry Beer | Poem

November

November days are dark and cold,
The saddest of the year;

The clouds do hill and vale enfold,

The days seem lonely and dreary.

The leaves have fallen to the earth,

The trees stand bare, alone.

Our feathered friends with songs of mirth

To sunny climes have gone.

And, when we wander through the woods,

A blanket made of leaves

Protects the springtime flowers that bloom

From winter's chilling breeze.

All snuggled 'neath this leafy robe

The flowers lie asleep,

This rustic blanket keeps them warm

When snow lies cold is gathered in,

The fodder stands in rows;

The grain is gathered in the bins,

No want the farmer knows.

Though dark November days may be,

There's beauty all around;

The bittersweet with berries bright

On fences old is found.

The cattails in the marshes deep,

The wild geese flying high;

We see them take their southern course

Across the cloudy sky.

The cellar is a festive place-

Attracts the heart and eye,

Where fruits and vegetables abound,

Which winter needs supply.

The walnuts lie in attic floor,

The pumpkins in a row.

Here peace, contentment, fill out hearts

As autumn winds do blow.

Though dark this month may be, and dreary,

Our hearts are filled with praise

To Him from whom all blessings come

On dreary November days.

By Henry Beer

My Garden of Verse

Pages174-175

Chrysanthemums By Henry Beer | Poem

Chrysanthemums

Whene'er I see Chrysanthemums,

Arrayed in colors bright,

I think of Autumn's pageantry,

Each cool and frosty night.

In yellow, bronze, and snowy white

These flowers are displayed 

As lovely as the autumn trees,

In colors bright arrayed.

Chrysanthemums of snow-white bloom

Remind us of the snow

Which soon will cover hill and vale

As wintry winds will blow.

Ye artists henceforth should portray

With Cornucopia's horn

These gorgeous flowers, bright and fair,

With fruit, and grain, and corn.

As flowers in a patient's room,

Chrysanthemums give cheer;

These lovely flowers of varied bloom

Console the dying year.

We praise Him for these lovely things,,

For all that He hath done.

To see His power in humble works,

It makes us truly one.

By Henry Beer 

My Garden of Verse

Page 171

September By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

September

September days are here at last,

And soon the summer will be past;

September days are mild and fair,

A touch of fall is in the air.

And nature smiles at every hand

With fruit and corn throughout the land.

Beneath the silken husks we see

The golden corn protruding free.

Wild asters blossom by the way

And goldenrod in rich display.

The cockscomb and the marigold

Through mild September days unfold.

The children back to school will turn

And there life's needed lessons learn.

Out in the orchard there one sees

The ripening fruit in apple trees;

The purple grapes, all clustered sweet,

Are a delicious fruit to eat.

It is on mild September days

Our hearts are filled with thanks and praise

To Him, who gives each month and day,

Whose honor we would seek always.

By Henry Beer

Page 139 in My Garden of Verse 

Friendship by Henry Beer (Poem)

 Friendship

There are friendships that I cherish

In my daily walk of life.

Friends with whom I meet and labor

In our earthly toil and strife.

Friends among the aged and youthful,

Friends that live from us apart;

Friends of higher rank and station

Find a place within my heart.

But I prize the friendship highest

Of the one whose heart is true;

Friends who live by truth and goodness

And who live in Him anew.

Friends who's hearts are up in heaven,

Though their feet traverse this sod,

Find a place of highest merit

In our fellowship with God.

There's a tie of noble kinship

In a soul who loves the Lord,

There's a friendship warm and lasting

If he heeds the Master's Word.

There is a mutual understanding

And a sympathy so kind

In the tie of Christian friendship,

As in earth sometimes we find.

When at last these ties are riven,

When we're called to go on high,

Oh, how sweet to meet in heaven,

Friends forever - you and I.

My Garden of Verse

By Henry Beer

Page 238

Amusements By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

Amusements

Amusement is a theme quite strange,
What could one's motive be

To see in verse this modern word,

Which charms society.

Amusement is a fleeting joy,

Attracts the modern mind;

Such transient joys allure the soul,

But leave it cold and blind.

Amusement - vain and fleeting art!

If we are not aware,

Will crowd the noble virtues out,

And leave us groping there.

Amusement, made and framed by man,

Is Satan's cunning snare;

For some will say, I see no harm,

Such simple joys to share.

My soul, take heed, be on thy guard!

How can our Saviour go

With us if we would crave such joys,

And still His grace bestow?

If mere amusement, transient joys,

Take up our leisure time,

Then much is lost - How can we gain

The things which are divine?

The time we spend is not our own;

Then squander not His days!

And may our time, and what we do,

Redound unto His Praise.

By Henry Beer

Page 109 in

My Garden of Verse 

July By Henry Beer (Poem)

July

The days are hot, the weather dry-

It is the month we call July.

We hope to have a bounteous yield

From grain that's ripening in the field.

The grain is threshed and gathered in,

What a thrill to see it fill the bin!

The wheat and barley, oats and rye

All ripen in the month of July;

And nature with a bounteous hand

Pours out her blessing in the land.

A fairer sight is rarely seen

Than the waving corn in fields of green.

It is a festive sight to see

The cherries ripening on the tree,

Which robins view with envying eye

And often take a fair supply.

The ripening raspberries we may view,

Which sparkle in the morning dew;

And blackberries upon the vine

Are seen to ripen at this time.

July displays ins beauties, too,

With bergamot in shades of blue.

The bouncing Bet along the way

And Queen Anne's lace their blooms display.

And often in the month of July

The storm clouds gather in the sky.

There's lightening, thunder, - and the rain

Refreshes garden, field, and plain.

And on a hot and sultry day,

The youth will often wend their way

Into the lake or swimming pool

To be refreshed in waters cool.

July the fourth we celebrate -

It is our Independence date.

For underneath each day and scene,

There rules a wondrous Power Supreme

Which, if you know, you will acclaim,

He's worthy of the highest name!

Page 85 My Garden Of Verse 

He Walked In The Cool Of The Evening by Henry Beer (Poem)

 He Walked In The Cool Of The Evening

Genesis 3:8

It was in the cool of the evening,

In a garden most wondrously fair,

Where the Father had placed the first mortals,

And He walked and He talked with them there.

As the skies are the fairest at sunset,

With purple and gold and gray,

So the fields and the gardens and flowers

Are brightest at close of the day.

What bliss for the morals in Eden

As through the fair garden they trod,

They saw the great wonders of nature 

And shared in the glory of God.

Then alas! In disguise came the temper.

Then the sin - and the fall, and disgrace.

Their rapture was turned into sorrow,

And Eden a dark, dismal place.

Again as they walked in the garden

With a sorrow their hearts had ne'er known,

Unclothed and condemned and rejected,

They walked in the garden alone.

My friend, as you hear the Lord's calling,

Hide not from His presence away.

Will you say, "Here am I," to the master,

As you walk in the cool of the day?

Page 96 in My Garden Of Verses 

By Henry Beer 

Consecrated Hands By Henry Beer (Poem)

Consecrated Hands

By Henry Beer 

Consecrated hands

Waiting God's commands

Service to perform.

Blessings follow still

All who do His will

Alike in sun and storm.

Humble though the task,

More He does not ask

That we do our best!

If in grace we live,

Service that we give

Truly will be blest.

Market, office, home,

Or in labor lone,

Prove the workman's brand.

Servants, nurses, too,

May their work review

Blest by higher hand.

Christian's work you see,

Not alone for fee,

Not for mere reward;

But with single eye

Talents they apply

As into the Lord.

Consecrated toil,

In workship, home or soil,

Finds it's due reward.

All success we share,

Sanctified by prayer,

Owe we to the Lord.

Page 147 in My garden Of Verse

The Rainbow By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

The Rainbow

By Henry Beer

My lad exclaimed with wonder,

As storm clouds had passed by,

"O father, see the rainbow

Up yonder in the sky!"

The storm of summer evening

Had passed to eastern skies.

We saw the rainbow's beauty

Displayed before our eyes.

And thus I found occasion,

In reverent tones and low,

To tell my lad the story

Of that first wondrous bow.

I told him of the waters

Which covered sea and land;

How God preserved the righteous

With His almighty hand.

I spoke about the rainbow

Which God had placed on high,

With colors most majestic,

Alluring to the eye.

The bow has seven colors

Which we can well behold;

Of yellow, red, green, violet,

Blue, indigo, and gold.

The rainbow gives assurance

According to God's word,

That the world by mighty deluge

Ne'er again shall be destroyed.

As children see the beauty

In the color of the bow,

Should not we esteem His promise

As in faith we older grow?

For the rainbow is a symbol

Of the beauty there on high,

And a token of his promise

For a home beyond the sky.

Page 137 of My Garden Of Verse

Free Water By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

Free Water

By Henry Beer

While working in my garden,

When plants are very dry,

I seek by man's contrivance

The moisture to supply.

Perchance by human efforts

Some water is supplied,

The space that man can water

Is neither large nor wide.

When we have cares engrossing

It takes much precious time

To use the hose in watering;

It throws us out of line.

The water from the hydrant

Joined to the main supply

We think about conserving

As days are hot and dry.

The water from the storage

Is not given to us free;

By the reading on the meter

We must pay the proper fee.

If He who governs nature

Does not charge for blessings sent,

Should we not at least be grateful,

Filled with love and kind intent?

Now have you ever pondered

How wonderful - the rain!

It falls to earth in volumes

And waters hill and plain.

The reservoirs of water

Held in clouds so high,

We mortals can not measure,

Not fathom the supply.

The Father's store is bounteous,

And He provides for all;

For man and beasts and flowers

He causes rain to fall.

Now man by human wisdom

Does wonders, we agree!

But God gives rain in volume,

And what's more, it's free!

June By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

June

By Henry Beer 

It is the pleasant month of June,
When roses in profusion bloom.
What precious memories come to mind:
To see the rosebush there entwined
Upon the garden gate, aglow,
Which mother planted years ago!
The mock orange, too, is a delight,
With fragrant blossoms, pure and white.
Who does not deem it a rich treat
The luscious strawberries to eat,
Which have emerged from winter's cold,
As the first-fruits of the year unfold?
'Tis in the pleasant month of June
When clover fields are sweet with boom;
The new-mown hay is mowed away -
Provision for the wintry day.
Refreshing showers, the sun's bright glow
Have caused the field of corn to grow.
The longest days of all the year
Within the month of June appear.
There's growing corn, and ripening wheat,
The new-mown hay with fragrance sweet,
The pleasant days and blooming flowers,
The morning dew and frequent showers - 
Until there come more perfect days,
The month of June shall have our praise.

The Robin By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

The Robin

By Henry Beer

The robin is a lusty bird,

A pioneer, I'd say.

He comes when chilling winds prevail,

When clouds and storms hold sway.

The robin leaves the sunny south,

He loves the north land best.

He loves our summer, spring, and fall,

'Tis here he builds his nest.

The seasons he can well discern,

He knows when spring is here.

And other feathered friends come too,

When robins do appear.

We hear him in the early morn,

He sings a joyful lay.

The art of industry and toil,

The robin does convey.

The robin is a friend of man,

He builds his home near by.

He nests on ledge of porch, or roof,

Or lilac growing nigh.

The robin is a builder too,

His nest is neat and round.

Although 'tis made of mud and straw,

A work of art is found.

The robin eggs are heavenly blue,

How pleasant to the eye!

The eggs retain the color of

The blue, ethereal sky.

The robin careth for his own;

His brood is well supplied.

If base intruders enter in,

They boldly are defied.

They are a blessing unto man,

For countless bugs they eat.

The worms that spoil the fruit and tree

Become their food and meat.

'Tis true he loves the cherries bright

That hang in trees quite high.

The cherries which we can not reach

He takes as his supply.

Shall we deny the scanty store

That creatures need to live?

The good they do for us is more

Then they ask us to give.

This bird with coat of crimson-brown

Is welcome to our heart.

When chilling winds of autumn come,

From him we're loath to part.

Pansies By Henry Beer (Poem)

 

Pansies

By Henry Beer

Pansies are a simple theme.

Though they're commonplace,

You can read a message there

On each smiling face.

Pansy blooms of bright array,

Growing near the walk,

Have a language all their own,

For they seem to talk.

Master hands have painted them,

Gorgeous tints we see:

There are no conflicting shades -

All is harmony.

Artists often stand at loss

Colors to combine,

Here you'll see a perfect work

Made by hands divine.

Brown, maroon, and indigo,

Yellow, white, and blue,

These and intermediate shades

Are displayed for you.

Seems to me such loveliness

Does God's goodness prove;

And His bounteous, gracious hand

Manifests His love.

The very works the Father made

Glorify His name

Should not we with grateful hearts

Also do the same?

Page 57 of My Garden Of Verse

Friendship With Creation And The Creator (Poem)

Hepatica 

(If you are interested in seeing many of the woodland flowers mentioned in stanzas 5 and 6 of this poem, I highly recommend the blog: Plants Amaze Me. I enjoy so much the pictures on that blog. I virtually go on walks in the woods with the author through her photography. I vicariously get to experience the flora and it delights me.)

 Friendship With Creation And The Creator
By Henry Beer

Some people love the gilded joys

Of crowded city life;

And many revel in it's throng,

It's tumult and it's strife.

When balmy summer days have come,

I roam the woodland wild;

I still can find a mystic joy,

As when I was a child.

Long years I've known the flowered friends,

Each spring they do appear.

Amid the crowded cares of life,

They give me springtime cheer.

I've learned to know them by their names,

I know their time and places.

You ask me how I know these flowers?

I know them by their faces.

I've learned to know the Violet

And Rue Anemone,

The Adder's Tongue, Hepatica,

The Trillium blooming free;

The Dogwood and the Red Bud pink,

And whither we may turn,

We see Spring Beauties everywhere,

The Bloodroot and the Fern.

One needn't be a scientist

These beauties to explore.

Just view them in the light of Him

Who liveth evermore.

For all the lovely things of earth

Are shadows of the time

When all the pure will bloom anew

More lovely and sublime.

I've learned to know the Master true,

He has most wonderful ways.

He knows the mysteries of the earth,

And merits all my praise.

So in this royal friendship bound,

His handiwork I see;

And though I live on earth below,

We live in harmony.

Proverbs 27:25 

The hay appeareth, and the tender grass 

sheweth itself, and herbs of the mountains 

are gathered.

Honor (Poem)

Honor
by Henry Beer

The man who makes success of life,
And squanders not his days,

Is quite deserving, seems to me,

Of honor, worth and praise.

But, honor is a subtle word;

If we are not aware,

And do not keep it in its place,

It soon becomes a snare.

There is a bold and slothful bird

Which lays its eggs inside

The nest of other singing birds,

And hatches out with pride.

This lusty bird will eat and grow,

And almost fill the nest,

And crowd the little fledglings out;

They scarce have place to rest.

This honor kept within the heart

Will grow to self-conceit.

And oft will crowd good virtues out,

Our noblest aims defeat.

Full many men of noble worth

Are humble in their ways,

And honor vain they do not seek,

Nor do they covet praise.

And praise will not exalt the just,

Not honor make him vain.

He knows the worth of humbleness,

Which he seeks to retain.

All that I have, all that I am,

All that I hope to be

I do ascribe to Christ, my King,

Who gave me liberty.