My Lord Keeps Record

What a wonderful beautiful picture I held
Of a place without sorrow or fear
And I'm going to live in that city one day
For my days are all numbered down here

My Lord keeps a record 
Of the moments I'm living down here
Yes, He knows all about me
All my troubles my sorrows my shame

I living each moment through the mercies
Of God's love and grace
Someday He will call me
To the wonderful beautiful promised place

Now I walk to be doing the will of my lord
As I travel this wearisome land
So I will not be ashamed of my record 
When I stand at my savior

My Lord keeps a record 
Of the moments I'm living down here
Yes, He knows all about me
All my troubles my sorrows my shame

Would I?

I’d rather be weak and endlessly seek
His glory and power within.
I’d rather confess my weakness and mess
So Jesus will cover my sin.

I’d rather be still and bow to his will
Than race to eternity blind.
I’d rather have loss and carry my cross
While leaving my treasures behind.

I’d rather be poor and begging for more
Than gaining the riches of earth.
I’d rather have love from heaven above,
A treasure of much greater worth.

I’d rather have Christ who once sacrificed
And gave up his heavenly throne.
I’d rather repent of selfish intent
For I will not make it alone.

I’d rather forgive for in Him I live
Since Heaven forgave all I’ve done.
I’d rather forget than live with regret.
I’ll trust in the grace of His Son.

I’d rather proclaim His glorious name
For rocks will cry out if I don’t.
I’d rather be bold and break evil’s hold
For hopeless they’ll be if I won’t.

I’d rather have life instead of this strife
From straining and fighting for more.
I’d rather entrust my life to the Just
And share in His grace evermore.

I’d rather not see if all life will be
Are paintings in pale monochrome.
I’d rather depart with yearning of heart
And have my Lord welcome me home.

Master of the Mind

Those voices in my head are not
Always polite or wise or kind
Oh, what a mess they make of thought
If left to masters of the mind

If left to masters of the mind
Oh, how the love of God I grieve
He knows that thought and sight are blind
Their voices condemn and deceive

Their voices condemn and deceive
They turn fear to a work of art
Faith would feel rather than believe
Without God’s word hid in my heart

Without God’s Word hid in my heart
I could not know the Way-Truth-life
Or peace His promises impart
Or heaven’s strength for earthly strife

Oh, heaven’s strength for earthly strife
Makes bearable life’s push and shove
A bulwark in the storms of life
A steadfast Source of Truth and Love

A steadfast source of Truth and Love
What more should mortal want or need
His Word to measure and approve
It does not falter or mislead

It does not falter or mislead
Its truth no brainstorm can outsmart
Where I am prone to pride, hate, greed
Without His Word hid in my heart

Every Season

At my weakest, 
You're my strength. 
When I'm lonely,
You embrace.

In the darkness,
You are light.
When I can't see,
You're my eyes.

As I'm crying,
You are there.
When afraid,
You take my fear.

Singing praise,
You're my reason.
When I need you,
Every season.

The Dawning of Hope

Life is a burden
And time is a curse 
Each day is a play 
That we do not rehearse

We each write a book 
With much careful thought 
But know that its pages 
Will all come to naught. 

Our moments are painted 
With much artful skill 
But colors are wasted 
In time that we kill. 

We sing songs of passion 
In much pain begotten 
Meant to inspire 
But too soon forgotten

Our stories are bland artifacts 
Buried in dust 
Our iron wills corrupted 
Our treasured thoughts rust 

Our hearts bleed for nothing 
Our mind aches in vain 
Our joys are all pointless 
There’s nothing to gain. 

The things that now hurt us 
Will soon hurt no more 
But the pleasures that drive us 
Will leave us all poor. 

For life is a burden 
And time is a curse 
Hope an illusion 
A rose scented hearse. 

Till in steps the Savior 
With truth for our lies 
The pain was His blessing 
Dressed up in disguise. 

Our hurts and our failures 
Drive us to his arms 
He wooes and He wins us 
With mysteries charms 

Then life is a blessing 
And time just a start 
A hopeful beginning 
For a once hopeless heart.

God's Grand Plan

The one who stands across forever,
…from time of old His work began, 
bids all those come to Him, whomever,
…Life and love His brilliant plan,
Souls and hearts that hurt wherever,
…as light and life came, then came man,
His power and strength a mighty endeavor,
…the image of God on man was scan
His grace and love and mercy forever!
…He blessed this life by a mighty hand.

But man deceived, he fell from grace,
…needs a costly plan of righteousness,
which then began that dreadful race, 
…the Son in babe, such holiness.
of death for man does ever chase.
…On a cross He died in loneliness.
of crushing Satan and death’s disgrace.
…A life so pure, He’s forever, yes!!
His Love overcame with infinite grace!
…Death could not hold in lifelessness.

He rose from death and conquered all,
…For love and life through Him are ours,
and crossed the chasm of our great fall.
…From Him who rules and owns all powers,
With death in hand His great forestall,
…The creator of all the sun lit flowers.
And back to him is His loving call!
…New life to us His love empowers!
We’re all astonished in wonder and awe!
…In heavenly mansions, and majestic towers! 

His life He gave to end our strife.
His treasures now on us run rife,
Brilliant and pure, our new afterlife!
Jesus, the way, the truth, the life!


John 17:1
When Jesus had spoken these words, 
he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said,
“Father, the hour has come; 
glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you,..."

Known But to God

To the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier,
A dad made a visit with his son.
Today it was Memorial Day,
And a service had just begun.

The President placed a wreath
At the unknown soldier's tomb.
Everyone was very still and quiet.
The son thought, "Why such gloom?"

"Dad, to see an unknown soldier's tomb,
Why did we have to travel so far?"
"Son, we honor all our dead heroes,
Even though we don't know who they are."

"Known but to God," my dear child,
On the soldier's tomb, it says that,
Because God knows the name of each.
It could be Bill, Jim, Sam, or Matt."

Asked the son, "How about me, Dad?
Can I be hero soldier too?"
"Yes, Son, you can be a soldier
Known to God, a Christian soldier true!"