4.04.2016

Just a Little Crabby

Two small crabs were once confined
Within a narrow space,
The one said to the other,
“Let us flee this dreary place.”

The one stepped foot upon the wall
To make his brave escape,
And, also, did his fellow who
Disdained the crabs’ estate.

Yet, never could they get so far
For just a simple slack;
 As one would try to climb above
His friend would pull him back.

 Oft’ times we tend to be the same,
Trapped in some dreary place,
Perhaps the gloom of crabby drab
Has left a sullen face.

 To flee the pit of pity, yea,
We do indeed desire,
But hindered by the crabs around
We all too soon retire.

Let not another pull you down
From finding joy and peace,
Press onward till you’ve reached the heights,
And share the love and grace.

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2016


4.02.2016

Re-Bound

The Book was worn and tattered,
Its pages stained and torn,
The binding that had held it tight
By time and use was shorn.
For many years the Truth it told
With e’er a ready voice,
To warm a heart or feed a soul,
Or guide one with a choice.
Its presence beckoned sinners
To repent of wicked ways,
Its message offered hope and drew
Them to the Throne of Grace.
Now stained with marks and tears,
The faithful Bible lay
Alone and nigh forgotten where
The fragile treasures stay.
But then one day the faded dust
Was gently brushed away,
And caring hands reached down and took
The old Book, weak and frayed.
With tenderest touch and loving hand
The master craftsman worked,
Until a new and shining prize
Sat fresh without one quirk.
Each age-old page was crisp and strong,
Each scar was polished through,
The cover that had seen the years
Appeared as though brand new.

His body weak and feeble,
His life bore marks of time,
The grey-haired man who’d preached the Word
Now to the end drew nigh.
For years gone by he’d labored
To share the Truth and Light,
In warning of destruction and
Proclaiming good and right.
To many sick and hurting
He’d given hope and cheer,
Always ready day and night
To lift one fallen here.
Now stained with marks and tears,
The faithful preacher lay
Alone and nigh forgotten where
The fragile treasures stay.
But then, one day, the faded dust
Was gently brushed away,
And caring hands reached down and took
The old man, weak and frayed.
With tenderest touch and loving hand
The Master Craftsman changed
The old into a shining prize
That sang in Heavenly range.
Each age-old part now crisp and strong,
Each scar now polished through,
The body that had seen the years
Stands now as though brand new.

Transformed, re-bound, made beautiful—
The Bible and the man,
Just by the gentle, skillful touch
Of the Master Craftsman’s hand.
Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2016

Click Here to view the old, rebound Bible