For Godly Fathers

For godly men everywhere who honor their families with their faithfulness, love, steadfastness, and work. You bless us daily.

Only A Dad

Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.

Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.

by Edgar A. Guest

Original Content: Copyright © 2012 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

God Bless You All This Christmas Day

A Christmas Carol

God bless you all this Christmas Day
And drive the cares and griefs away.
Oh, may the shining Bethlehem star
Which led the wise men from afar
Upon your heads, good sirs, still glow
To light the path that ye should go.

As God once blessed the stable grim
And made it radiant for Him;
As it was fit to shield His Son,
May thy roof be a holy one;
May all who come this house to share
Rest sweetly in His gracious care.

Within thy walls may peace abide,
The peace for which the Savior died.
Though humble be the rafters here,
Above them may the stars shine clear,
And in this home thou lovest well
May excellence of spirit dwell.

God bless you all this Christmas Day;
May Bethlehem’s star still light thy way
And guide thee to the perfect peace
When every fear and doubt shall cease.
And may thy home such glory know
As did the stable long ago.

Edgar Albert Guest

Going Home for Christmas

He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair;
He never guessed they’d miss him, or he’d surely have been there;
He couldn’t see his mother or the lump that filled her throat,
Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty note;
And he couldn’t see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb,
Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn’t come.

He little knew the gladness that his presence would have made,
And the joy it would have given, or he never would have stayed.
He didn’t know how hungry had the little mother grown
Once again to see her baby and to claim him for her own.
He didn’t guess the meaning of his visit Christmas Day
Or he never would have written that he couldn’t get away.

He couldn’t see the fading of the cheeks that once were pink,
And the silver in the tresses; and he didn’t stop to think
How the years are passing swiftly, and next Christmas it might be
There would be no home to visit and no mother dear to see.
He didn’t think about it – I’ll not say he didn’t care.
He was heedless and forgetful or he’d surely have been there.

Are you going home for Christmas? Have you written you’ll be there?
Going home to kiss the mother and to show her that you care?
Going home to greet the father in a way to make him glad?
If you’re not I hope there’ll never come a time you’ll wish you had.
Just sit down and write a letter – it will make their heart strings hum
With a tune of perfect gladness – if you’ll tell them that you’ll come.

Edgar Albert Guest

At Christmas

A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season is here;
Then he’s thinking more of others than he’s thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.
He is less a selfish creature than at any other time;
When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.

When it’s Christmas man is bigger and is better in his part;
He is keener for the service that is prompted by the heart.
All the petty thoughts and narrow seem to vanish for awhile
And the true reward he’s seeking is the glory of a smile.
Then for others he is toiling and somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas he is almost what God wanted him to be.

If I had to paint a picture of a man I think I’d wait
Till he’d fought his selfish battles and had put aside his hate.
I’d not catch him at his labors when his thoughts are all of pelf,
On the long days and the dreary when he’s striving for himself.
I’d not take him when he’s sneering, when he’s scornful or depressed,
But I’d look for him at Christmas when he’s shining at his best.

Man is ever in a struggle and he’s oft misunderstood;
There are days the worst that’s in him is the master of the good,
But at Christmas kindness rules him and he puts himself aside
And his petty hates are vanquished and his heart is opened wide.
Oh, I don’t know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas man is almost what God sent him here to be.

Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)

Good source if you like Edgar Albert Guest: http://sofinesjoyfulmoments.com/quotes/edguest.htm

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

A Thankful Heart

“I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart; I will tell of all Your marvelous works.” Psalms 9:1 (NKJV)

Thanksgiving

Gettin’ together to smile an’ rejoice,
An’ eatin’ an’ laughin’ with folks of your choice;
An’ kissin’ the girls an’ declarin’ that they
Are growin’ more beautiful day after day;
Chattin’ an’ braggin’ a bit with the men,
Buildin’ the old family circle again;
Livin’ the wholesome an’ old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.
Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother’s a little bit grayer, that’s all.
Father’s a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an’ to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin’ our stories as women an’ men.

Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we’re grateful an’ glad to be there.
Home from the east land an’ home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an’ best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We’ve come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an’ be frank,
Forgettin’ position an’ station an’ rank.

Give me the end of the year an’ its fun
When most of the plannin’ an’ toilin’ is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin’ with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An’ I’ll put soul in my Thanksgivin’ prayers.

By Edgar Albert Guest

The Canvas Of Life

“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.” John 15:4-5 (NKJV)

Life’s Canvas

Sunshine and shadow and laughter and tears,
These are forever the paints of the years,
Splashed on the canvas of life day by day,
We are the artists, the colors are they.
We are the painters, the pigments we use
Never we’re wholly permitted to choose.
Grief with its gray tint and joy with its red
Come from life’s tubes to be blended and spread.

Here at the easel, the brushes at hand,
Each for a time is permitted to stand.
White was the canvas when first we began,
Ready to picture the life of a man.
Now we are splashing the pigments about,
Knowing the reds and blues must give out,
Soon we must turn to the dull hues and gray,
Painting the sorrows that darken the way.

Now with the sunshine and now with the shade
Slowly but surely the picture is made.
Even the gray tints with beauty may glow
Recalling the joy of the lost long ago.
Let me not daub it with doubt and despair,
Deeds that are hasty, unkind and unfair,
But when the last bit of pigment is dried
Let me look back at my canvas with pride.

Edgar Albert Guest

From The Light Of Faith-1926

A Man Worth Honoring

I would like to honor a man who has always exemplified character and courage: my father. You see, today is his birthday.

There are many words that I could use to describe my father, but “strong and steady” just about sums it up. His wisdom, his work ethic, and his humor are what many people know of my father, but, it is his faithfulness that that earns him the description of “strong and steady.” He was a faithful employee to the companies for whom he worked as a mechanical engineer. He was a faithful son and brother. He was faithful to my mother every day of her life; he was faithful to her when she lay within moments of her last breath.  He has been faithful to God and the church, giving of himself sacrificially for decade after decade. He has been faithful to each of his three children, helping us through the “curve balls” that life has thrown us.

In fact, if there was a dictionary that held the phrase, “strong and steady,” his picture would have to be beside it. This is a man who values and honors his Scandinavian heritage. The stoicism of that culture defines him in so many ways.  And yet, he has a tender heart towards those who he loves. He never lets an opportunity pass by without telling each of us how much he loves us. He has music in his heart and can’t walk by a piano without sitting down to play a tune or two (or three).

Today, on his 83rd birthday, I would like to honor this man who has shown me a picture of what God intends a man and father to be: loving, steadfast, faithful, generous, hospitable, wise, forgiving, thoughtful, kind, honest, loyal, courageous, and respected. He has taught me by his example how great is the love of my Heavenly Father.

I am very thankful for the father that God has given to me. The poem below is dedicated to him.

Happy birthday, Father. No daughter could ever be more blessed.

A Man

A man doesn’t whine at his losses,
A man doesn’t whimper and fret,
Or rail at the weight of his crosses
And ask life to rear him a pet.
A man doesn’t grudgingly labor
Or look upon toil as a blight;
A man doesn’t sneer at his neighbor
Or sneak from a cause that is right.
A man doesn’t sulk when another
Succeeds where his efforts have failed;
Doesn’t keep all his praise for the brother
Whose glory is publicly hailed;
And pass by the weak and the humble
As though they were not of his clay;
A man doesn’t ceaselessly grumble
When things are not going his way.
A man looks on woman as tender
And gentle, and stands at her side
At all times to guard and defend her,
And never to scorn or deride.
A man looks on life as a mission.
To serve, just so far as he can;
A man holds his noblest ambition
On earth is to live as a man.

Edgar Albert Guest

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

An Incompatible Marriage

“As long as a marriage is founded on a good solid incompatibility, that marriage has a fair chance of continuing to be a happy marriage, and even a romance.” –G.K. Chesterton in the “Incompatibility in Marriage”

Today, a few poems to celebrate thirty-three years of marriage to a man who has fulfilled my every dream. For a marriage that neither family nor friends thought would “go the distance,” we have had an amazing run. God obviously knew what they did not: he was exactly the man I needed. I shudder to think of the kind of person I would have been without him.  He is strong where I am weak. He has brought out the best in me when I didn’t believe there was any “best.” That old adage is correct: “Having someone to love doubles your joy and divides your sorrows.”  No woman could have asked for, or been blessed with, any more. As Dorothy Sayers so aptly stated:

“I love you – I am at rest with you – I have come home.”

At The Wedding

There was weepin’ by the women that the crowd could plainly see,
An’ old William’s throat was chokin’ an’ his eyes were watery,
An’ he couldn’t hardly answer when the parson made him say
Who it was on that occasion was to give the girl away.

I detest tears at a weddin’, an’ I didn’t like ‘em then,
An’ I couldn’t see the reason for the lips that trembled when
Reverend Goodly looked about him ere he tied the knot to stay
An’ said: “Which of you assembled here now gives this girl away?”

I shall not forget old William an’ the solemn look he wore,
Though he tried his best at smilin’ I could tell his heart was sore;
I could see the tear drops startin’ as he looked at little May,
An’ I knew the wrench it caused him when he gave his girl away.

I could hear the women sobbin’, an’ I didn’t dare to look,
I jes’ kep’ my face straight forward till the parson closed his book.
For the heart of me was beatin’ not in sadness, but in glee;
I had reason to be happy.  He was givin’ her to me.

Edgar Albert Guest

The June Couple

She is fair to see and sweet,
Dainty from her head to feet,
Modest, as her blushing shows,
Happy, as her smiles disclose,
And the young man at her side
Nervously attempts to hide
Underneath a visage grim
That the fuss is bothering him.

Pause a moment, happy pair!
This is not the station where
Romance ends, and wooing stops
And the charm from courtship drops;
This is but the outward gate
Where the souls of mortals mate,
But the border of the land
You must travel hand in hand.

You who come to marriage, bring
All your tenderness, and cling
Steadfastly to all the ways
That have marked your wooing days.
You are only starting out
On life’s roadways, hedged about
Thick with roses and with tares,
Sweet delights and bitter cares.

Heretofore you’ve only played
At love’s game, young man and maid;
Only known it at its best;
Now you’ll have to face its test.
You must prove your love worth while,
Something time cannot defile,
Something neither care nor pain
Can destroy or mar or stain.

You are now about to show
Whether love is real or no;
Yonder down the lane of life
You will find, as man and wife,
Sorrows, disappointments, doubt,
Hope will almost flicker out;
But if rightly you are wed
Love will linger where you tread.

There are joys that you will share,
Joys to balance every care;
Arm in arm remain, and you
Will not fear the storms that brew,
If when you are sorest tried
You face your trials, side by side.
Now your wooing days are done,
And your loving years begun.

Edgar Albert Guest

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

Father’s Day: A Boy And His Dad

In honor of all those men who selflessly pour themselves into the lives of their children. They will reap an eternal reward.

Being Brave At Night

The other night ’bout two o’clock, or maybe it was three,
An elephant with shining tusks came chasing after me.
His trunk was wavin’ in the air an’  spoutin’ jets of steam
An’ he was out to eat me up, but still I didn’t scream
Or let him see that I was scared – a better thought I had,
I just escaped from where I was and crawled in bed with dad.

One time there was a giant who was horrible to see,
He had three heads and twenty arms, an’ he came after me
And red hot fire came from his mouths and every hand was red
And he declared he’d grind my bones and make them into bread.
But I was just too smart for him, I fooled him might bad,
Before his hands could collar me I crawled in bed with dad.

I ain’t scared of nothin that comes pesterin’ me at night.
Once I was chased by forty ghosts all shimmery an’ white.
An’ I just raced ‘em round the room an’ let ‘em think maybe
I’d have to stop an’ rest awhile, when they could capture me.
Then when they leapt onto my bed, Oh Gee! But they were mad
To find that I had slipped away an’ crawled in bed with dad.

No giants, ghosts or elephants have dared to come in there
‘Coz if they did he’d beat ‘em up and chase ‘em to their lair.
They just hang ’round the children’s rooms
an’ snap an’ snarl an’ bite
An’ laugh if they can make ‘em yell
for help with all their might.
But I don’t ever yell out loud. I’m not that sort of lad,
I slip from out the covers and I crawl in bed with dad.

Edgar Albert Guest

A Boy And His Dad

A boy and his dad on a fishing trip-
There is a glorious fellowship!
Father and son and the open sky,
And the white clouds lazily drifting by,
And the laughing stream as it runs along
With the clicking reel like a martial song,
And the father teaching the youngster gay
How to land a fish in the sportsman’s way.

I fancy I hear them talking there
In an open boat, and speech is fair;
And the boy is learning the ways of men
From the finest man in his youthful ken.
Kings, to youngster, cannot compare
With the gentle father who’s with him there.
And the greatest mind of the human race
Not for one minute could take his place.

Which is happier, man or boy?
The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
For he’s finding out, to his heart’s delight,
That his son is fit for the future fight.
He is learning the glorious depths of him.
And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim,
And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How close he has grown to his little son.

Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
Under the sky in the open air,
For out of the the old, old long-ago
Come the summer days that I used to know,
When I learned life’s truth from my father’s lips
As I shared the joy of his fishing trips-
A boy and his dad on a fishing trip-
Builders of life’s companionship!

Edgar Albert Guest

Answering Him

“When shall I be a man?” he said,
As I was putting him to bed.
“How many years will have to be
Before Time makes a man of me?
And will I be a man when I
Am grown up big? I heaved a sigh,
Because it called for careful thought
To give the answer that he sought.

And so I sat him on my knee,
And said to him: “A man you’ll be
When you have learned that honor brings
More joy than all the crowns of kings;
That it is better to be true
To all who know and trust in you
Than all the gold of earth to gain
If winning it shall leave a stain.

“When you can fight for victory sweet,
Yet bravely swallow down defeat,
And cling to hope and keep the right,
Nor use deceit instead of might;
When you are kind and brave and clean,
And fair to all and never mean;
When there is good in all you plan,
That day, my boy, you’ll be a man.

Edgar Albert Guest

“Every one of you shall revere his mother and his father, and keep My Sabbaths: I am the LORD your God.”  Leviticus 19:3 (NKJV)

Good source, if you like Edgar Albert Guest: http://sofinesjoyfulmoments.com/quotes/edguest.htm

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

The Love Of The Game

There is too much of sighing, and weaving
Of pitiful tales of despair.
There is too much of wailing and grieving,
And too much of railing at care.
There is far too much glorification
Of money and pleasure and fame;
But I sing the joy of my station,
And I sing the love of my game.

There is too much of tremble-lip telling
Of hurts that have come with the fight.
There is too much of pitiful dwelling
On plans that have failed to go right.
There is too much of envious pining
For luxuries other may claim.
Too much thought of wining and dining.
But I sing the love of my game.

There is too much of grim magnifying
The troubles that come with the day,
There is too much indifferent trying
To travel a care-beset way.
Too much do men think of gold-getting,
Too much have they underwrit shame,
Which accounts for the frowning and fretting,
But I sing the joy of my game.

Let’s get back to the work we are doing;
Let us reckon its joys and its pain;
Let us pause while our tasks we’re reviewing,
To sum up the cost of each gain.
Let us give up our whining and wailing
Because of the bruises that maim,
And battle the chances of failing
As being part of the game.

Let us care more for serving than winning,
Let us look at our woes as they are;
It is time now that we were beginning
To be less afraid of a scar.
Let us cease in our glorification
Of money and pleasure and fame,
And find, whatsoe’r be our station,
Our joy in the love of the game.

Edgar Albert Guest from “Just Folks”–1917

“For it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure. Do all things without complaining and disputing, that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.” Philippians 2:13-15 (NKJV)

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

What We Need

“Since you have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit in sincere love of the brethren, love one another fervently with a pure heart, having been born again, not of corruptible seed but incorruptible, through the word of God which lives and abides forever.” 1 Peter 1:22-23

What We Need

We were settin’ there an’ smokin’ of our pipes, discussin’ things,
Like licker, votes for wimmin, an’ the totterin’ thrones o’ kings,
When he ups an’ strokes his whiskers with his hand an’ says t’me:
“Changin’ laws an’ legislatures ain’t, as fur as I can see,
Goin’ to make this world much better, unless somehow we can
Find a way to make a better an’ a finer sort o’ man.

“I reckon all these problems air jest ornery like the weeds.
They grow in soil that oughta nourish only decent deeds,
An’ they waste our time an’ fret us when, if we were thinkin’ straight
An’ livin’ right, they wouldn’t be so terrible an’ great.
A good horse needs no snaffle, an’ a good man, I opine,
Doesn’t need a law to check him or to force him into line.

 

If we ever start in teachin’ to our children, year by year,
How to live with one another, there’ll be less o’ trouble here.
If we’d teach ‘em how to neighbor an’ to walk in honor’s ways,
We could settle every problem which the mind o’ man can raise.
What we’re needin’ isn’t systems or some regulatin’ plan,
But a bigger an’ a finer an’ a truer type o’ man.

 

Edgar Albert Guest

  

You

You are the fellow that has to decide
Whether you’ll do it or toss it aside.
You are the fellow who makes up your mind
Whether you’ll lead or will linger behind
Whether you’ll try for the goal that’s afar
Or just be contented to stay where you are.
Take it or leave it. Here’s something to do!
Just think it over — It’s all up to you!

 

What do you wish? To be known as a shirk,
Known as a good man who’s willing to work,
Scorned for a loafer or praised by your chief,
Rich man or poor man or beggar or thief?
Eager or earnest or dull through the day,
Honest or crooked? It’s you who must say!
You must decide in the face of the test
Whether you’ll shirk it or give it your best.

 

Nobody here will compel you to rise;
No one will force you to open your eyes;
No one will answer for you yes or no,
Whether to stay there or whether to go.
Life is a game, but it’s you who must say,
Whether as cheat or as sportsman you’ll play.
Fate may betray you, but you settle first
Whether to live to your best or your worst.

 

So, whatever it is you are wanting to be,
Remember, to fashion the choice you are free.
Kindly or selfish, or gentle or strong,
Keeping the right way or taking the wrong,
Careless of honor or guarding your pride,
All these are questions which you must decide.
Yours the selection, whichever you do;
The thing men call character’s all up to you!  

 

Edgar Albert Guest

 

Link:  http://sofinesjoyfulmoments.com/quotes/edguest.htm

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved

Lemon Pie

There is an old adage: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” It may well be true. This is for my father–lemon meringue pie (or anything lemon, for that matter) is one of his favorites.

Lemon Pie

The world is full of gladness,
   There are joys of many kinds,
There’s a cure for every sadness,
   That each troubled mortal finds.
And my little cares grow lighter
   And I cease to fret and sigh,
And my eyes with joy grow brighter
   When she makes a lemon pie.

When the bronze is on the filling
   That’s one mass of shining gold,
And its molten joy is spilling
   On the plate, my heart grows bold
And the kids and I in chorus
   Raise one glad exultant cry
And we cheer the treat before us
   Which is mother’s lemon pie.

Then the little troubles vanish,
   And the sorrows disappear,
Then we find the grit to banish
   All the cares that hovered near,
And we smack our lips in pleasure
   O’er a joy no coin can buy,
And we down the golden treasure
   Which is known as lemon pie.

Edgar Albert Guest

Copyright © 2011 by Susan E. Johnson
All rights reserved