Mother's Day

Mother’s Day Mother’s Day is remember day And we pause on the path of the year To pay honor and worship tribute To the mother our heart holds dear For , whether here or in heaven , Her love is our haven and guide , For always the memory of mother Is a beacon light shining inside … Time cannot destroy her memory And years can never erase The tenderness and the beauty Of the love in a mother’s face … And , when we think of our mother , We draw nearer to God above , For only God in His greatness Could fashion a mother’s love Jan Bagwell God Bless Have a very happy Mother Day !!

A Mother Love

A Mother Love A mother’s love is something that no one can explain It is made of deep devotion of sacrifice and pain , It is endless and unselfish and enduring come what may For nothing can destroy it or take that love away It is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking . And it never fails or falters even though the heart is breaking ….. It believes beyond believing when the world condemns And it glows with all the beauty of the rarest , brightest gems It is far beyond defining ,it defining ,it defies all explanation …. A many splendor miracle, man cannot understand And another wondrous evidence of God’s tender guiding hand . Jan Bagwell God Bless !! The Neighborhood Church , Wining Easley to win the World , Not just a Church , It a experience !! See you Sunday

Before it is too late

Before it is too late . If you have a tender message Or a loving word to say , Don’t wait till you forget it But whisper it today . We know what bitter memories May haunt you if you wait . So make your loved one happy Before it is too late . The tender word unspoken The letters never sent , The long forgotten messages The wealth of love unspent . For these some hearts are breaking For these some loved ones wait , Show them that you are care for them Before it is too late . Jan Bagwell God Bless !!

A little Girl

A Little Girl There’s a little girl ‘most seven Who came to earth to make a heaven For the ones who’d pass her way To watch her in her fancy play . It takes so very little ,her childish Joy to give – A whole day thru of make believe, Some magic thing pretend , Just the way she’d like it to be , Games without end . There’d be tea parties ,all alone – Still every place is filled With Doris and Ruth and Betty Ann, And just any one who willed To sit with her in the magic chair , But really and truly no one is there . She’d put her babies all to bed With some terrible ache or pain , And have the doctor even declare He’d soon have them all well again . And with all the medicine he would give ,He is almost sure that they will live. She’d dress up in her mother’s things With skirt and shoes and hose, And make the cutest gestures , As she trips around on toes, Which reminds us that alas! Her baby days will soon be passed . May her really grown up days Just as happy be, As the fancied ones she spent Sitting upon your knee , With not a disappointment there To dim her sweet face with tear . Jan Bagwell God Bless !! This is for my Granddaughter Emily , and her Dad and Mother [ Scott and Elizabeth Bagwell]

The Potter's Hand

The Potter’s Hand To the Potter’s house I went down one day , And watched Him while moulding the vessels of clay . And many a wonderful lesson I drew , As I noted the process the clay went thro . Trampled and broken , downtrodden and rolled , To render more plastic and fit for the mold , How like the clay that is human , I thought , When in Heavenly hands to perfection is brought . For self must be cast as the dust at His feet , Before it is ready for service made meet . And pride must be broken , and self-will lost- All laid on the altar , whatever the cost . But lo! by and by a delicate vase Of wonderful beauty and exquisite grace Was it once the vile clay? Ah, yes ; yet how strange , The Potter has wrought so marvelous a change ! Not a trace of the earth , nor mark of the clay , The fires of the furnace have burned them away . Jan Bagwell God Bless !