This Is My Father's World

 

I love the nature imagery used in this song. Here are examples; "all nature sings,"..."birds their carrols raise,"......"rustling grass I hear him pass,"....."rocks and trees,"......"skies and seas,"...," morning light, lily white,"....etc...

 Spring is a beautiful time of year and there are so many reminders of God's goodness and power and love of beauty during these months.

This is my Father's world,

And to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me rings

The music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world:

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas--

His hand the wonders wrought.

 This is my Father's world:

The birds their carols raise,

The morning light, the lily white,

Declare their Maker's praise.

This is my Father's world:

He shines in all that's fair;

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass,

He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father's world:

O let me ne'er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong,

God is the Ruler yet.

This is my Father's world:

The battle is not done,

Jesus who died shall be satisfied 

And earth and Heaven be one.

I like to think of the last word as a homophone- one as in unity, and won as in conquered.

This Bible verse keeps popping in my mind when I sing the last line- "The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever." (Revelation 11:15b) Handel's Hallelujah Chorus has this verse set to music and it plays in my memory when I read the words. It is so magnificent!

The wrong does oft seem so strong. I like the admonition to remember that God is the ruler yet. This part of the song makes me think of Psalm 73-  "And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High? Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches."

"Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end."

If by Rudyard Kipling

 

I have been busy with poetry lately; writing some myself, reading some, and learning more about the craft. 

 I recently finished reading aloud The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling to my children. I enjoyed it very much. I had never known that The Jungle Book is several stories in one cover. The first story is about Mowgli and Sheer Kan. The second story is about a white seal in the North Pacific (Stellar Sea Cows are mentioned! I was so excited because I had just learned about Stellar Sea Cows last year when I read Sea Cows, Shamans, and Scurvy by Arnold). The third story is about Rikki-Tikki-Tavi the mongoose. The fourth story is about a boy who has a way with elephants. The final story is about many pack animals of the army having a discussion about their labor. That last story gave me a lot of food for thought. I had to reread it again for myself. I feel like there is a deep metaphor in the story and I can't quite grasp the whole meaning; something about consciousness and courage or the greatness of the collective at the expense of individuality. I can't put my finger on it exactly. I am open to ideas, if you have any interpretation on the story, please share them with me.

 All this reading of Rudyard Kipling put me in the mood to read some verses written by him. 

 This is a favorite poem of mine and I learned that I am not alone, apparently, it was the most beloved poem among Brits' at one point. It brings to mind many Biblical proverbs and inspires me to strive toward goodness, strengthen my integrity, and become a more humble person. 

What are your thoughts on the poem? How does it make you feel?

If

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Five (Not) In Love Haikus

Number 1.

Floats, folds, tangles up

Clings to itself not to my plate

Convenient? No.

Number 2.

Glad wrap. Saran wrap.

More like sad wrap. Pathetic 

Excuse to ease life.

Number 3.

At my fingertips 

Weather, family, and news

Scrolling, scrolling on

Number 4.

Connected to all

Necessity or demise 

Notifications

Number 5.

Jesus said love them

But she has a wrong yard sign

He mows on my side

Commentary 

Frontier Poetry is hosting a themed Haiku contest. The haiku are supposed to be about something with which you have a love/hate relationship. 

Yesterday I sat down and wrote these haiku,.. haikus,... (I don't know the correct plural form) to go along with Frontier's contest. (Because the contest has a $10 entry fee I am just doing these for fun not for a real entry.)

The first thing that I could think of that I love/hate is cling wrap. That stuff is so annoying! But it can serve a very useful purpose. I wrote two haiku about cling wrap.

The second thing that I could think of that I love/hate is my phone. It's a really useful tool but can also be a huge time suck and productivity drag. Haiku 3+4 are about the smart phone.

The last haiku is the most thoughtful. It is about neighbors. Jesus said to love our neighbors but I don't always want to. I am pointing out a hypocrisy of Christians that we let little things bother us and keep us from treating our neighbors with love.

I wrote 5 haiku(s) because that is how many you can enter in the contest under one entry.

The contest is open through Feb. 15, 2026. You still have time to enter. The cash prizes are pretty good!

Do you love cling wrap or hate it? 

What is the first thing that comes to mind as something you both love and hate?

I Spy With My Little Eye!

 

Poking through the frost

Bringing sunshine in their folds

Springs the equinox

I saw these this morning and they made me so happy! I had to write a haiku to celebrate. 

Here is an old post in which you can read about my excitement over daffodils back in 2015. I haven't changed in that regard.

What Good Is Sun If I Can't Run?

I love this poem that I recently discovered in the most unexpected place. A local museum had a free admission day as a promotional event. We took advantage of this free day. In the art gallery was a sitting area with a few toys and books provided for children. I spent some time there with my toddler. He liked the wooden toy train. I picked up a picture book and paged through it. Turns out that it was a book of poems by Gwendolyn Brooks. I had never heard of her before. I read a few poems. This one struck a cord with me. I relate so strongly with the girl: Paulette, I assume. I love to run. I love to climb trees. I feel societal pressure to give up these activities around self respecting adults. Mostly, I conform but there are times when I break into a run and I don't care who's watching. "What Good is sun if I can't run?"

 Paulette

By Gwendolyn Brooks

What good is sun 
If I can't run?

"You're eight, and ready 
To be a lady."

That is what my Mama says. 
She is right again, I guess.

But there! I saw a squirrel fly 
Where it is secret, green, and high 

And there! Those ants are bustling brown,
And I require to chase them down!

What good is sun 
If I can't run?

Ever since reading this poem it has stuck with me and I recite it to myself. Actually, just the first half because I haven't committed to memory the whole thing yet. 

This poem inspired me the paint a picture. My children love to climb trees. One day I took a picture of my little girl in a tree in order to be the subject for my painting. Yesterday, I pulled my watercolors out and did this picture.

Don't forget to have fun. This is a reminder to have some simple joys like you did as a child. Stay young at heart!

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!