Touched My Soul

Touched My Soul...
My alarm went off -- it was Sunday again;
I was tired -- it was my one day to sleep in.
But the guilt I'd have felt the rest of the day
would have been too much, so I'd go; I'd pray.
I showered and shaved, adjusted suit and tie,
Got there and swung into a pew just in time.
Bowing my head in humble prayer before I closed my eyes,
I saw that the shoe of the man next to me was touching my own and I sighed.

With plenty of room on either side, I thought,
"Why do our soles have to touch?"
It bothered me so; he was glued to my shoe,
but it didn't seem to bother him much.Then the prayer began: "Heavenly Father," someone said
But I thought, "Does this man with the shoes have no pride?"
They were dusty, worn, scratched end to end.
What's worse, there were holes on the side!
"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.
The shoe man said a quiet
"amen." I tried to focus on the prayer,
but my thoughts were on his shoes again.
Aren't we supposed to look our best
when walking through that door?
"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought,
glancing toward the floor.
Then the prayer ended and songs of praise began.
The shoe man was loud, sounding proud as he sang.
He lifted the rafters; his hands raised high;
The Lord surely heard his voice from the sky.
Then the offering was passed; what I threw in was steep.
The shoe man reached into his pockets, so deep
And I tried to see what he pulled out to put in,
Then I heard a soft "clink," as when silver hits tin.

The sermon bored me to tears--And no lie--
It was the same for the shoe man, for tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service, as is custom here,
we must greet the visitors and show them good cheer.
But I was moved inside to want to meet this man,
so after the closing, I shook his hand.
He was old, his skin dark, his hair a mess.
I thanked him for coming, for being our guest,
He said, "My name's Charlie, glad to meet you, my friend,"
And there were tears in his eyes--but he had a wide grin.
"Let me explain," he said, wiping his eyes.
"I've been coming for months, and you're the first to say, "Hi."
I know I don't look like all the rest,
But I always try to look my best."
"I polish my shoes before my long walk,
But by the time I get here they're as dirty as chalk."
My heart fell to my knees, but I held back my tears,
He continued, "And I must apologize for sitting so near."
"But I know when I get here, I must look a sight.
And I thought. . If I touched you, our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment knowing anything I said
would pale in comparison, so I spoke from my heart not my head.
"Oh, you've touched me," I said. "And taught me, in part,
That the best of a man is what's in his heart."
The rest, I thought, this man will never know.
How thankful I am that he touched my soul!

You might be best friends one year, pretty good friends the next year, don't
talk that often the next year, don't want to talk at all the year after that.
So, I just wanted to say, even if I never talk to you again in my life, you
are special to me and you have made a difference in my life, I respect you
and truly cherish you.

Let old friends know you haven't forgotten them, and tell new friends you
never will. Remember, everyone needs a friend, someday you might feel like
you have no friends at all, just remember this e-mail and take comfort in
knowing somebody out there cares about you and always will.

The Battle Hymn Of The Republic

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet;
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
[originally …let us die to make men free]
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.

He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave;
So the world shall be His footstool, and the soul of wrong His slave,
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.
Written By Julia Ward Howe 1862

Words: Ju­lia W. Howe, 1861, alt. This hymn was born dur­ing the Amer­i­can ci­vil war, when Howe vis­it­ed a Ar­my camp on the Po­to­mac Riv­er near Wash­ing­ton, D. C. She heard the sol­diers sing­ing the song “John Brown’s Body,” and was tak­en with the strong march­ing beat. She wrote the words the next day:
I awoke in the grey of the morn­ing, and as I lay wait­ing for dawn, the long lines of the de­sired po­em be­gan to en­twine them­selves in my mind, and I said to my­self, “I must get up and write these vers­es, lest I fall asleep and for­get them!” So I sprang out of bed and in the dim­ness found an old stump of a pen, which I re­mem­bered us­ing the day be­fore. I scrawled the vers­es al­most with­out look­ing at the p­aper.

The hymn ap­peared in the At­lant­ic Month­ly in 1862. It was sung at the fun­er­als of Brit­ish states­man Win­ston Church­ill, Amer­i­can sen­at­or Ro­bert Ken­ne­dy, and Am­er­i­can pre­si­dents Ron­ald Rea­gan and Ri­chard Nix­on.
I will not copy somebody else work knownly . But this is so beautiful , about God and Country . It was like God said," send this "! And most of you, who know me ,everything I send out is pray about . Thank you for letting this Blog come into your home .

Summer Beauty

Summer Beauty
The loveliness that I behold
So far beyond compare ,
The joy I feel within my soul
Tells me my Savior’s near .

I see Him in red roses
That bloom along the vine .
I feel Him in the gentle wind
That sweeps the Summer pines .

The sky enfolds me like a glove
Of magic azure blue ,
And I’m reminded that His love
Surrounds me this way ,too !

A rolling carpet of green grass
Backs up this breathless view ,
And I know for me that Heaven
Will be in colors of this hue .

As the sun slips slowly out of sight
In its westerly direction ,
I want to whisper , “Please don’t go ,
Don’t end this day’s perfection,”
Jan Bagwell
God Bless !

Psalm25:5
Guide me in Your truth and teach me , for You are God my Savior ,
For You I wait all the long day , because of Your goodness , Lord

This is good

This Is Good
=============

The story is told of a king in Africa who had a close friend
with whom he grew up. The friend had a habit of looking at
every situation that ever occurred in his life (positive or
negative) and remarking, "This is good!"

One day the king and his friend were out on a hunting
expedition. The friend would load and prepare the guns for the
king. The friend had apparently done something wrong in
preparing one of the guns, for after taking the gun from his
friend, the king fired it and his thumb was blown off.
Examining the situation, the friend remarked as usual,
"This is good!"

To which the king replied, "No, this is not good!"
and proceeded to send his friend to jail.

About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he
should have known to stay clear of. Cannibals captured him and
took him to their village. They tied his hands, stacked some
wood, set up a stake and bound him to the stake.

As they came near to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the
king was missing a thumb. Being superstitious, they never ate
anyone who was less than whole. So untying the king, they sent
him on his way.

As he returned home, he was reminded of the event that had taken
his thumb and felt remorse for his treatment of his friend.
He went immediately to the jail to speak with his friend.

"You were right," he said, "it was good that my thumb was blown
off." And he proceeded to tell the friend all that had just
happened. "And so, I am very sorry for sending you to jail for
so long. It was bad for me to do this."

"No," his friend replied, "This is good!"

"What do you mean, 'This is good'?

How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year?"

"If I had not been in jail, I would have been with you."
Jan Bagwell
God Bless !
God always has a plan for you . Pray for Donnie Hendrix

Still Answers

Still Answers

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible study.
The pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the
Lord's voice.

The young man couldn't help but wonder,
"Does God still speak to people?"

After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie
and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked
about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving
home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray,
"God, if you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen.
I will do my best to obey."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the
strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook
his head and said out loud,

"God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward
home. But again, the thought, "buy a gallon of milk."

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize
the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.
"Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk."

It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could
always use the milk.

He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off
toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the
urge, "Turn down that street."

"This is crazy," he thought and drove on past the intersection.
Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the
next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.
Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God I will."

He drove several blocks when suddenly, he felt like he should
stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in
a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best, but it
wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark
like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed
something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house
across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was
dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were
already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.
"Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake
them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid."
Again, he felt like he should go and give them the milk.

Finally, he opened the door. "Okay God, if this is you, I will
go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to
look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess
that will count for something, but if they don't answer right
away, I am out of here."

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear
some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it?
What do you want?"

Then the door opened before the young man could get away.
The man was standing there in his jeans and a t-shirt.
He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on
his face, and he didn't seem too happy to have a stranger
standing on his doorstep.

"What is it?" The young man thrust out the gallon of milk.
"Here I brought this to you."

The man took the milk and rushed down the hallway, speaking
loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman
carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her
holding a baby.

The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.
The man began speaking and half-crying, "We were just praying.
We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money.
We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and
asking God to show me how to get some milk."

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I asked him to send an
Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the
money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. He turned and
walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his
face.

He knew that God still answers prayers.

"Stop telling God how big your storm is.
Instead, tell the storm how big your God is!"
Jan Bagwell
God Bless !
Has God spoke to you lately . Have you listened for him . Have you met a person, down on their luck. Just walk up to them , and say ,"here twenty dollars God sent it and he love you . Remember you can't out sow God . Amen and Amen