SERMONS OUTLINES and IDEAS by Roy Weaver FOLLOWED BY POETRY by Roy Weaver info@churchsupplies.org.uk "THE FATHER RAN" (Luke 15) The race to reinstate What a wonderful picture of God. God in hurry? The mills of God grind slow... he is slow to anger and of great kindness... yet Jesus pictures him as a Father running at top speed. He has been wearing those spectacles of love. For "While he was a great way off his father saw him" God is not short sighted he sees the sinner returning. He is waiting and watching. Ready to dash the distance that divides. However far, he will cover the distance. No hesitation. No question if it is deserved. No slowing the pace while he thinks through the implications. HE RAN! Angels have caught that urgency from God. They have become sprinters. They have caught the excitement in announcing the Good News at speed. They rush Lot out of danger. Rush Peter from Prison and rush Shepherds to the stable. Good preachers should learn from God and the angels. Their blessed feet should hurry for souls. Join the Gospel race. Sinners ran to Jesus, wealthy or poor. Hurry to the Saviour but He outruns them all. He is the first fruits of those who slept. He is the bright and morning star. For God loved the World so much that He gave his son. The greatest Lover,the greatest gift and the greatest extent at the greatest speed. Never has such distance been covered. The Father RAN...Even though it did not look the part! What about his status? What would servants think? To stand at the door maybe. Give a guarded welcome just to remind him of his failings? No. HE RAN! Dare I suggest the Father has lost all sense? Dignity to one side my son is coming home. He ran with outstretched arms. Cross like. Ready to throw his arms around him. Why the foolishness of God is the wisdom. He Ran. My eyes are down. I've rehearsed over and over again what I must say . My murmurs of repentance are lost in the folds of his love. All I can hear is "This my son was dead and is alive" All heaven now seems to be rejoicing over one like me. The smell of pigs the hunger are all left behind. Then..............Bang.....My brother.... his face......his jealousy.... is this the same house? The same family? "This your son"...disowned. I'm your brother. "With harlots"...truth is going out of the door. Should I have returned? The Father drowns it out... this your brother... all I have is yours... he was dead and is alive... we must rejoice. Dad ran so far to greet me... will my brother? Thank goodness the Prodigal didn't meet the elder brother first!!!! Guess many have when visiting churches!! Sermons written by Roy Weaver BIBLE QUESTIONS The first question in the Old Testament is "WHERE ARE YOU?" God is looking for Adam. A question that reveals we are lost in sin. The first question in the New Testament is "WHERE IS HE?" Wise are still looking for Jesus. The question reveals the need to seek Him. The first thing Jesus is recorded as saying was a question "WHY DO YOU SEEK ME? "He came all the way from heaven and asks us a question. Look up the use Jesus made of questions. He asked a blind man "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO FOR YOU?" He could have asked for heaven but he asked for his sight! "DO YOU WANT TO BE HEALED?" To a man waiting for healing! "WHO DO MEN SAY I AM?" Questions to find the truth,draw out faith and even a question of suffering from the cross. "WHERE ARE YOU?" "WHERE IS HE"? and "WHY DO YOU SEEK HIM?" Questions that could lead to your decision to follow Jesus today. GOD'S JOSEPH There always seems to be God's Joseph in God's place at God's time. A HARVEST JOSEPH There was a Joseph in Egypt for his brothers when they were all in need. A CHRISTMAS JOSEPH When Mary needed protection another Joseph appears and when his work is done goes from history without a mention. AN EASTER JOSEPH God had his Joseph who happened to have a burial place right next to Calvary to care for the body of our Lord. Yes! God's Joseph in God's place in God's time. GOD IS A CARPENTER He said build an Ark out of Gopher wood And they were saved in it When they got out God said Build an ark out of Cedar wood They carried it and God went everywhere with them. God said see that tree! Cut it down and throw it in the bitter waters of life and it became sweet. He must have whispered to a carpenter one day Make an animal trough I am going to put my Son in it. He must have whispered to a carpenter one day Build a table my Son is going to have a meal round it and they will always do it that way. He must have whispered to a Roman Soldier one day put two pieces of wood together I am going to permit you to put my Son on it. I guess God was a carpenter. PRAYER Jesus Master Carpenter of Nazareth, Who on your cross with wood and nails, hath wrought man's full Salvation. Wield well your tools, in this your workshop, That we who come to you rough hewn, may be fashioned to a fuller beauty by your Holy Spirit. ALL AGE WORSHIP TALK THREE CANDLES Take three candles, a long one,a middle size and a small one. Say..." I have a family of candles,Daddy ,Mummy and baby!" "Which do you think is Daddy ?" If you ask a child they will point at the big one and maybe a man would, some ladies choose the small one!! Which ever way, it will work and begin with a laugh. If they choose the big one tell them they are wrong. You see it is different for candles! The smaller you get, the older you are. The ladies were right, the small one is Daddy, because in this family he is old and all burnt down! Hold up the longest candle and say "you see children how important you are to God. You have so much to give. Wish I had become a Christian when I was a little child. You can give your life to Jesus today and look how long you can serve him, far more than all the older ones in church!" SOME POETRY by Roy Weaver GOD'S JOSEPH ( in God’s place at God’s time) Joseph at harvest For brothers in need Joseph at Christmas When Caesar decreed Joseph at Calvary With cool borrowed tomb God has His Joseph When all hopes consumed He’s just round the corner When all is at loss He’s waiting and ready Near the foot of the cross God has His Joseph By grace you’ll succeed Our God will provide And His Grace will precede MERCY Rarely sparingly Mercy floats Seeking goodness in its notes; Surprisingly strange it catches out The judging eye and all about. It creeps unnoticed in loving gaze Breaks through love as through a haze; It shocks and strains to reach the goal Pouring oil in a silver bowl. Healing building restoring real Bringing back a worth to feel; Mercy, Mercy, Oh! so rare Falling down like flaxen hair. Only God can Mercy mete Gracious daily in sweet retreat; Unexpectedly so kind Softly, Softly refine the mind. Calming anger on the way Releasing perfume into day; Mercy gentle sent to heal Cloaking blemishes to conceal. Mercy, Mercy, the end not seen Knows no limit and stays serene; Mercy grant Lord when we come Mercy in our hearts a home. BIBLE QUESTIONS God asks the first one, it’s “Where are you now?” For man has got lost from the fruit of the bow, I learn from this question, He seeks even me, But just how or why, I really can’t see? The first in the New is “Where is He” now? To the one born a King, the wisemen will bow I learn from this question, He’s worthy to seek, For a Saviour came for me, a child so to be. The first from the Christ child is “why do you seek?” We can lose His dear presence in life’s busy week, Don’t presume He is with you, be sure as you go, The wonder of Jesus each day you must know. He comes to a blind man, so, “What do you want?” He could have pleaded for heaven or wealth like a font, But he asked for his eyes back and saw once again, And all God’s people yelled a joyful, “Amen!”. He went to a pool side where a man on a bed, Was waiting for healing to walk just like men, “Do you want to be healed?” the Saviour did ask? What privilege and power had reached him at last. “Who do men say I am” Jesus asked of his friends, Well a good man, a prophet, or Elijah returned, “Who do you say I am “ the Saviour then yearned, “The Christ! “ the Redeemer their faith had atoned. “Why” ? Cries the Saviour when hung on the cross, A psalm He is quoting or feeling the loss? A cloud of our sin hides each person of God, As the devil fought Jesus and treat Him roughshod. “What things?” He asked on that Emmaus road, He reduced down His sufferings to a two worded load, They told Him as hearts burned inviting Him in, So invite Him yourself by His Spirit within. SOUND OF CHURCH MUSIC (Goes to the tune “These are a few of my favourite things”) Hands up or hands down or kneeling or sitting, hymnbooks or power point a committee permitting, Collection will follow the third hymn we sing these are a few of my Church going things. Begin in deep water and wine in small glasses, We drink together as communion then passes, Visiting preacher oh! What a nice change, Maybe we'll get him on an exchange! When the pipes leak. When the beams crack, and the preacher goes on, I simply remember my church going things, and I don't feel…. so bad! Hot tea and coffee and cakes after service, Mrs McDonald looks terribly nervous, She thought the preacher was not very good, but with no batteries she's not understood! Was it on Wednesday for an extra prayer meeting? Or was it on Thursday a missionary speaking? For during the notices I fell asleep, due to the reading being so full of sheep! When the coins drop, and the kids scream and the organ goes flat. I simply remember the faith that I have and I can feel…. so glad. HARVESTIME (retirement) Many wild oats have raised their heads In our fields of Golden corn Those weeds deep rooted were a curse But Harvest now is born The laughter from the field below Drowns out their cursed sounds My misdeeds prevail me still But mercy bursts around The crown of goodness shines on high dazzles a dullness on their voice The regal stems and bowing heads Become hearts plenteous choice Dwell on His blessings from on high His strongest servants fail Harvest our testimony now Not labourers so frail The river floods just full to burst Drowning out their cursed gaze As He providest for the earth proving more our special worth The fruit outstrips their memory still hiding now their judgements stare scents of blessing fill the air Unique this season we prepare ON GOOD FRIDAY ( in Lambourn the racing stables are open on Good Friday ) This man on Calvary’s post began in stable place of poor, fling open on His dying day, be sure to seek for more. Come from afar to see horse in humble home, and muse a while on Good, Friday, this preacher man who rode. See Him on the ass and foal, riding as a king, bend leaves bow down your heads, those hands can strongly hold. See the equine strength the nervous moves power yet meek and mild, remember wise men travelled far to seek in straw this child. Come in and view seek winners true, race and see the rest, but be sure His Father formed a plan search hard to find the best. In our varied colours race in life’s schemes and turning globe, many ask “what is truth”? too simple for to probe. Be sure the invite is for you, see Lambourn’s secret pride, enjoy this day in hay and hoof, as “Father forgive “ He cries. Be sure my favourite and the true, all found in simple form, the one called door the way the truth has won new life for me and you. The stable door is open TAPESTRY OF TROUBLE ( sent to two friends facing cancer and other illness.) Wish I could a rhyme embroider In cords of comfort mingled care, But the love of God is broader In this tapestry of life we share. In the tangled pains and sorrows With each changing latter day, As cotton follows eye of needle So all struggles shall defray. No sense nor reason in the threads Appear within the weave we make, Trouble on trouble still embeds Confusing providence a mistake. Then suddenly as if in vision We over turn this cloth of Gold, To reveal on front side silken Words of wonder rich and old. Why the weave it spells the answer In the threads of life we spin, “God is Love” writes the author Whispering treasured words within. POETRY BASED ON LAMBOURN VILLAGE BERKSHIRE BERKSHIRE GALLOPS Watch the shadows chase the sunshine Over Berkshire’s Royal downs, Hues of green in variation As a floating emerald gown, Sweeping over chalky uplands Enriching all in silent sound. Describe to me the great excitement In the early morning chase, Myriad black, brown and chestnut Enjoy rehearsing for the race, Perched a top so small a rider Equine human reined embrace. Pounding now in furlong gallop White the rails are flashing by, Trainer from his four wheel vantage Searches with a weathered eye, Seeking, longing out a winner Shielding form from public eye. Tired in roadside file procession Make their way to paddocks wait, Standing grouped in patterned habit Soothing sinews pain abate, Lead now out in sweet submission Groomed and ready for starting gate. LAMBOURN MUSIC The clattery clip of sure shod horses Row their way from stable courses, Majestic Might so make no noise Else all control and grace destroys. There, perched on top of equine wonder, Gripping knees no time to blunder, When the pace then triggers trot, Stable hand in stylish squat. Both a harmony of movement Training horse for more improvement. Head by head to spur more speed Rider reined to excited steed. Drumming Downs in powerful pounding, Valiant veins with sweat outstanding. Head of rider drifts in dreams Midst the mist at Newbury seems, Vibrant victory geared to gain, Both are one in nervous strain. Then in truth its homeward bound For ends the track to circle round. WANTAGE ROAD INTO LAMBOURN Come with me over Ridgeway’s rise, on Wantage Road to spy a gem. From Alfred’s birth to Alfred’s fight, our Berkshire Grasmere comes in sight. Each side the dips and rises shine, of varied greens and man’s bright yellow. Lambourn is now hidden in the hollow, of gallops chase and tracks so narrow. Excite the horse with furlong chase, up the hill to strengthen pace. With sinews strong to jump or stay, to win again on Derby day. Nearer now to Grasmere’s kind, the lake lies paddocked underground. With Lambourn beauty all around, an industry of horse abounds. Slow down, drive wide, they walk in rows, for stable home they have to find. And we in humble adoration bow, and wonder at this nervous kind. The muscles, veins majestic made, All timed and ready for the game. The hopes and dreams on trainers face, may soon sad dashed despair replace. But to our view who little know, Of form and filly or geldings age. This is our place our home our mother, live on dear Lambourn there is no other. LAMBOURN VILLAGE No Malborough this with Polly tea room bright, no posh school accent or busy tourist sight. Not even a Hungerford with Tuttipole and trains, quiet canal plus duck or two with rare antiques to gain. Definitely no Newbury Camp Hopson there to pass, this horsey Lambourn is certainly working class. With mucking out and exercise no banks or jewellery shops, in Lambourn it’s work all day the training never stops. Surely says the visitor this should so wealthy be? a racing and pristine place a joy for all to see! No! Working class and industry with pony tails and cap, Asian and small Europe folk on horse for hours are sat. Excitement at the Post Office a small wage seems a lot, when converted into money to send to Eastern Block. Two stores, a chemist a hardware place, a sandwich bar and takeaways, newsagent, doctors - just in case! The Library and jockey shop, in butchers chat rude glee, then Valentines with happy hour and chucking out at three. A Bangladeshi restaurant a dentist, betting shop, an ancient famous saddlery with all the things piled up. Dry Cleaner and a village hall British Legion still on call, some churches just high, low and small. Irish keep the place RC Vets keep animals free from evil of distemper and the occasional flea. Plumbers painters architects, estate agent, almshouse too then there’s the preaching cross and cobbles still to view. When troubles come on gallops far a whirly bird drops down, there to lift a jockey up for nursing in nearby town. Rice bowl eats, Devonian snacks with French connection grub, plus just a fair selection of struggling English pubs. Lambourn with Christmas brackets set and carnival parade flower boxes out at summer time We’re a working class crusade. ASHBURY TO LAMBOURN From White horse plain past Rose and Crown, over the hill of flint and down, at Wayling’s top of Ridgeway’s rise, Alfred’s Ashdown meets our eyes. First a glimpse of house through trees, built for love which never sees, like a dolls house up road of green, saying soon a sweet adieu, before those ancient hills break through. These hills lay frozen long ago terraced and shepherded by man, below a stony Sarsen flock, lays still as if all time forgot, then smoothed by Merlin’s staff have mellowed, into wonders holed and hallowed. Here a kings burnt cake pride in encampment lonely hide, watching for pagans to invade, our great Alfred’s not afraid, freeing countryside by truth even when he’s but a youth. Open road to turn of bend, Upper Lambourn now extends, thatch and stables, pub and meadow, then behind a hedgerow narrow, those at rest with death have grappled, across the road from forge once chapel. Slowly now to watch for horse or stable hand on duties coarse, beyond equine care and cricket field a tall tower can still be seen, Michael and his heavenly hoard looks down on Lambourn, evermore LAMBOURN once a haven for a Queen ridged by ancient road hallowed by mounds protected by Ashdown Hills beautified by ups and downs of a Royal county dominated by equine training. Inhabited by small riders tall worried trainers and prosperous dedicated owners. Flint to the west Woodlands to the south and east Gallops to the north. Enter by any direction through panoramas of wonder. Visit its Post Office to hear languages far and beyond Go into its store for all your needs or a promise of next day for your strangest wants. Alfred's victory over pagan raiders ensured a tall Christian tower at its heart and a spring of water rising from its core at unexpected times. Lambourn lives Lives for the horse Rises to train Sleeps at weekends as its life ebbs out to race course far and wide. Visited by many on one holy day forming a sort of pilgrimage of hope. Little known to many a Membury Motorway traveller Marked by hilltop tree rows furlong stumps and rails of white. Paddocked within Renowned without Remains a unique gem in a valley of emerald green. Loved by hunter and fox alike Home to many a large bird of flight. LAMBOURN....what more could you want? ASHDOWN Flocks of stone lie below the Ashdown hills. Herded by the Ice Age Shepherd as he halted on his journey south or cursed by Merlin’s staff. Holy by time Holed by mystery Blown by warriors Removed by greed. These Sarcen sheep graze on. Terraced slopes Grey grass Weathercock worn Gullied by wear. Fought over by three counties but common to none. Inhabited by Oaks, Ash and Pine Divided by an avenue of green Deer and Monkjack Owl and Cuckoo. Where Wayling Ridgeway bends and watchmen view the Viking hoards. A smithy tomb so ancient the hero long forgotten. But behind the trees encamped find Alfred. From here with brother King he ventured Ridgeway’s walk to Upthorpe’s thorn and canvass chapel of prayer. No time for blessing he slips away brother King still prays but Brother king to be, fights on. In later years here to stand a staircased chateaux for a queenly bride upon whose Bohemian eyes would never fall. Walk freely dear friend a nations Trust to claim. This land is ours to stroll and roam. We now are Kings and worthies too enjoy and dream and own. WANTAGE TO LAMBOURN Come with me over Ridgeway’s rise, on Wantage Road to spy a gem. From Alfred’s birth to Alfred’s fight, our Berkshire Grasmere comes in sight. Each side the dips and rises shine, of varied greens and man’s bright yellow. Lambourn is now hidden in the hollow, of gallops chase and tracks so narrow. Excite the horse with furlong chase, up the hill to strengthen pace. With sinews strong to jump or stay, to win again on Derby day. Nearer now to Grasmere’s kind, the lake lies paddocked underground. With Lambourn beauty all around, an industry of horse abounds. Slow down, drive wide, they walk in rows, for stable home they have to find. And we in humble adoration bow, and wonder at this nervous kind. The muscles, veins majestic made, All timed and ready for the game. The hopes and dreams on trainers face, may soon sad dashed despair replace. But to our view who little know, Of form and filly or geldings age. This is our place our home our mother, live on dear Lambourn there is no other. TWO SOUTHERN WAYS TO LAMBOURN Out of old Glevum they laid a road, all straight and Ermin lined, Silchester wall would be their goal, but theirs were days so long ago. Gloucester named but road remains, two thousand years gone by, at Lambourn pull upon your reins, and choose a way for all your pains. From Wanborough low to Baydon high, by Farncombe bend or Hunger Hill, an Emerald valley there drops by, with vistas truly in rich supply. Streams below lie soon forgotten until the rain is over strong, meandering meaningless to moisten sun kissed pools, a face to glisten. This vale so gentle smooth and kind downs of Delamere, King and meadow, bringing forbears back to mind, as the road begins to wind. Farmers, horsemen long have gone, just the byways still remain, all their dreams have long withdrawn, as ten thousand days have dawned. This is ours on loan a little, ours to love and work and share, our hold on life is Oh! so brittle, a precious God’s gift lived epistle. See the village comes in sight, this your home by birth or trade, not in truth our legal right, but shared by grace, a brief delight. UFFINGTON In his dying moments with fingers long this Ice Age monster gripped the chalky hill Then helped by man and passage long Reshaped and formed a land to a thousand dreams A flint man’s home A terraced farm the Ridgeway passing by A dragons fight A flat topped hill and blood that turned the ground to white. Men of Stone and then of Bronze Would look upon this place Before the Saxon Fought the noble fight Is that a Manger for a phantom horse Or a chalk one in the grass look across the white horse plain Look from the sky itself Most ancient running horse Or Georges dragon dead Yet Alfred’s victory there proclaim To Welsh to frighten off Who knows Dream on Dear friend This land which time forgot Walk bravely A Trust to share Walk carefully and With reverent feet View hesitate and dream FOX HUNTING I killed a fox today without a red coat on No Tally Ho or sound of horn No hat or crop at bay I killed a fox without a doubt Illegal do you say? I killed a fox today with no port glass before No speech about that Labour mob No dogs to bark and stay I killed a fox without a doubt My car got in the way! THE LONG WALK HOME Lonely now I walk in sorrow With past failures screaming loud, Just a four foot friend to follow Faithful loving no matter how. Wishing, wishing some time to borrow But backwards clock will never trace, Spotty watches from the morrow Gazing at his Masters face. In memory past I seem an actor Even to my very self, Walk so lonely shamed, a stranger, Wet nose plods upon the shelf. Loving life and all around me Seeing form in every shape, He the oblivious old sniffy While I consider one escape. Depart while only lies suspicion Proved and spread can never be, Dear old faithful at a beckon Walks by side so faithfully. Lay aside the cardboard court room While I face the judge above, Comfort came from friend a grooming Licks my hand as sign of love. Then a miracle transition Faithful more than any friend, Tears of loved one wife and Christian Hurts and bruises apprehend. Arms of mercy from a partner Unlike canine, knows the sin, This is faithfulness upon an altar God like, gracious soul to win. Hanging on in wounded wonder Anchored solace in the Ark, Floating on a flood of failure Rainbow arched in loves embark. MOVING HOUSE The tables gone there is no room, In small apartment were moving soon. That table round the meals, the love, Friends and family, The next above. A meal is where such loved ones meet, Friends and generations there to greet. Where Grandad Smiles across the board round candles peeps Grandchild adored There the Sunday Called roasty feast With Grandmas cooking Joys increased But now the room All empty bear, No laughter now Is in the air. BOOKS Books Books and most are kept just for looks Leather bound with golden edges Marble covers ideal for browses, Musty, dusty, with polished spine Inscribed with words “This book is mine!” Books Books shelved on high fills every nook Some have years where kept for ages With yellow changing of the pages, Some with covers falling off Some with titles long forgot. Books Books, gaps where some were taken Pressed together arranged in batches Others kept in tall posh cases Small at top and big at bottom Awesome, factsome, boredom, album. POEM TO A POOR PASTOR IN ZIMBABWE Stand up Stand up for Jesus, my brother preach the cross, My brother in Zimbabwe, save many souls from loss. In poverty and hunger, make Christ your only plea He will enrich His servants, and make the sinner free.  Stand up Stand up for Jesus, my brother have no fear, The evil ones defeated, His Son will soon appear. The Captain of our army, is glorious and true, He’ll keep His servants safely, until the day is through.   Stand up Stand up for Jesus, Bulawayo stand alone, Our Saviour came to Calvary and He alone Atones. He won Salvation for you, in the "place where He was killed" He Rose and lives in Heaven, so His kingdom you must build. Stand up Stand up for Jesus, and let the waters flow, You who live on high ground, must have your faces glow. So shine so shine for Jesus, in this your hardest day, With love and peace within you, you must go on and pray. Stand up Stand up for Jesus, the wind of God shall smile From south and east its coming, to cool you for the trial, Revival rains refresh you, before the end has come, Hold fast Hold fast to Jesus, He calls His servants home Memories of Rupert Bear “Said Rupert, “Algy come with me We’ll go by river to the sea Provisions and a tent we’ll pack And stay by stream to have a snack!” These words engraved upon my mind Were read to me but when a child In prose and poetry form they came An Annual Christmas gift the same No Bard could fasten words to mind Nor Milton, Keats or such refined Just a basic little bear With friends quiet strange and rather rare From Nutwood then to castles grand adventures drawn in a green woodland From bedside read and Mother’s voice Transported mind to heart’s rejoice No words would stay like this except That Sammy scout before I slept I chinked with laughter as repeated His feet and ground so quickly parted “Sammy came up to the store The entrance was through large swing doors They turned so quietly round and round And did not make the slightest sound” “Up came a fat man in a rush And gave the doors a might push Sammy was pushed off his feet And shot outside into the street” No Hamlet would have that affect Nor Wordsworth earn the same respect For cartoon rhyme got locked inside A babe of War’s impressioned mind So growing up and finding faith Words of life did take their place “For me to live is Christ” they say And “even when I die it’s gain!” I’m thankful now God’s Word is written On the heart of those called Christian Words that carry with them hope Bring Faith and love so we can cope Word’s that come to mind in need Find His grace the path proceeds Casting light upon the ground Reveals the Way as homeward bound The morning it went wrong at the Salvation Army “Frustration is to be my theme!” Yon preacher said aloft “That’s fine with me!” the devil laughed And turned the Power point off The congregation mumbled through As books were outward thrust Singing died, the band stood still While an army sang by trust The preacher calmly battled on And helped distribute some books Until on seeing th’words were back Through our intelligent looks By now the theme was understood Frustration was heartfelt A sought of visual aid it seemed Was confusing all about “Failure was my second point” She then so bravely said By now twas fully understood Her message truly spread We got the point but needed now To find a remedy and noticed how she kept her nerve Through all this anarchy “Keep your eye upon the Lord” “Not back on what you’ve done!” She lived her message that’s for sure And the preacher woman won The only thing that went quite wrong When she offered us some stones to think of things to throw away Our sins we wished disowned “Cast them in a lake” she said So to Lydiard we did go Killed two ducks and carted off And a policeman took our photo Be warned dear friend on Sabbath day On entering our Citadel The challenge maybe just too much And far too hot to han...dle Message after the preachers vacation Something lives in every hue From leisured heart it just broke through Through droplet tears a spectrum dawns Turning autumn’s death to bronze It arches life with loves sweet dew Giving space for thoughts anew Staring silence nothing said Yet in stillness a feast outspread Take time dear friend to stop and stare A holiday with God to share Day speaks today it shouts out loud In deafening quietness it’s profound For God and animals need to rest Shaping duties to their best To life’s Well I daily go In life’s hubbub too and fro For there I meet the one who knows Causing my message to overflow The Spirit brings my Lord to greet Wooing souls at a Mercy seat Happy Sunday What a glorious day is Sunday, when to Old Town we prepare! Welcome smiles and holy friendship with a joy for us to share Soldiers of that noble army, free Salvation to declare Songsters and a band now ready welcome all with love and care. At the front a cross illumined, voices lifted into prayer Greeting each and one another praying Jesus will be there Clap my friend and raise the timbrel it’s the Saviours great fanfare Seek and Save the lost our purpose winning souls is in the air Lift the flag and raise the anthem fighting sin is our warfare Stand for Jesus in our weakness He will overcome despair Testify our faith together making young and old aware Jesus is the Lord we worship and His love beyond compare Message from the Word inspiring giving strength for life to bear Caring for the poor and downcast is our dutiful welfare Calling sinners home to Jesus wooing them to mercy's chair This great Gospel works in our day reaching people anywhere