A collection of Christian poems to encourage and inspire. Uplifting
verses that to strengthen your faith.
Dust and Gold
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2008
I am but a tiny speck, a particle of dust;
I have no power of my own, it's in my God I trust.
He sees the frailty of my being, the weakness of my frame,
But even though I am minute, He calls me by my name.
My decisions that I make, be they bad or good
Are completely known by Him - known and understood.
He'll guide me if I let Him, but He will not use force,
He trusts me to rely on Him, to always stay on course.
But I am human and I'm frail, I want to stand alone,
So God backs off and lets me be, He lets me chose my own.
He stands aside yet stays nearby, in case I change my mind,
He lets me go my way alone but He's not far behind.
When I get weary and I stray along the unknown road,
I need but call upon His Name and He will bear my load.
Oh, foolish pride, let go! Let God! He's been this way before,
Give Him the reigns that guide your life, you need hold on no more.
He knows precisely what you need, He knows your very frame,
You'll find the peace you're looking for by calling on His name.
'Twas God who made you from the dust, you're precious in His sight,
All creation He called good, in you He takes delight.
Give praise! Give thanks! Rejoice always.
You're blessed because He cares,
For dust to Him is like pure gold,
And He owns all your shares.
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2000
Standing at the edge of the water, with trembling; with fear and concern,
I knew that I ought to go further, I knew there was much I should learn.
But the fear in my heart was tremendous, for who knows what might lie ahead?
Had anyone conquered these waters? And were they engulfed with this dread?
My heart says it's safe, I should trust Him, but my head has control of my will;
In the turmoil that struggles within me I can't seem to hear, "Peace, be still."
I fumble, I falter, I quiver, but my steps I cannot retrace,
I lift my eyes up to heaven, I am searching for help and for grace.
Oh God, give to me understanding; give me faith to be willing to go,
To step in the fast moving waters, to speak so that others might know.
Remove me from my inhibitions, cast aside all the struggles I bear,
Give me freedom to totally trust You, to know that Youíll always be there.
Let me not see the furious torrent, nor fear the unknown far ahead,
But let my soul cling to Your promise, not fear, but a sweet calm instead.
For Your grace is surely sufficient, Your strength will supply all I need,
Oh, Father, teach me to trust You, to willingly go where You lead.
God Is There
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2006
So many times I've tried to write the story of your grace;
But then my eyes would fill with tears at the image of your face.
Compassion, love, and tender care, and patience with mankind,
Expressed profoundly who You are, Your life with ours entwined.
No selfish thoughts, no evil traits, no struggle to gain power,
For all things are in full control, each moment and each hour.
You do not ask man for advice, yet every voice You hear,
Your delight comes from their praise and as their hearts draw near.
For man to view your holiness while in their sinful state,
Is far beyond their power to bear, for God, You are so great!
Yet in the midst of holiness your love still rules supreme,
The gentleness, the total power; You're far beyond a dream.
Yet even though these attributes are so much who You are,
You judge a nation for its works, Your eye roves near and far.
For those who bless, You bless in turn, You fill their hearts with joy,
But the oppressor knows no peace, his mind is to destroy.
Your patience and long suffering allowed man to roam free,
But every deed is written down; Your Word is Your decree.
When time runs out and life is o'er, You'll call man to account;
Your judgment will be swift and sure without the mercy fount.
You are Creator, it's your right to mold and shape the clay,
And then to judge its worthiness through what was done each day.
You call, You plead, persuading man to hear and make a choice,
And man will never have excuse if they have heard Your voice.
So God, I cannot pen the thoughts of all Your love and care,
Far beyond my human power, but God! I'm glad You're there!
God's Love Quotes
Happiness In Heaviness
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2008
When all has been lost and hope seems no more,
When the victory you feel is unattainable,
With your dreams all destroyed, your plans gone array,
And nothing in life seems sustainable.
When friends walk away when you need them the most,
When you know that they don't understand you;
When burdens are more than you ever can bear
And you wonder where all this will land you.
Your heart's full of fear, your body's grown weak,
When all of your tears are diminished,
To the point of despair, your tear ducts are dry,
You want to call out, "Is it finished?"
You've nowhere to turn, no soul who consoles,
You walk in a world where no light shines,
You fear the dark night, you're frightened by sounds,
Your heart hears nothing but harsh grinds.
This is as far as you know you can go,
You're lost without more resources;
You've tried all the avenues open to you
By wit or by using strong forces.
And finally, after the ways all shut down
You're ready to say, "I'm defeated!"
God can step in to straighten your path,
But not 'til your route was completed.
It's really amazing how long we will wait
Before we see the conclusion,
That all our efforts don't bear any fruit,
In truth, it's just a delusion.
But allowing God to set forth our path,
Hearing His voice and direction;
We will find peace and joy in our hearts,
For God is the key to perfection.
By and By
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2000
Do you think that it would be possible to understand God's ways?
Can you limit eternal existence and give back the tally in days?
Can you count His marvelous miracles, or judge just where He resides?
Have you seen His glory, His mercy, how His gentle spirit abides?
Have you felt His power in nature, the crashing of waves on the shore?
The furious winds in the treetops or thunder's horrendous loud roar?
We cannot fathom God's greatness, nor compare His knowledge to man;
From naught He created the planets, and keeps them secure in His hand.
Man plants the seed but God waters; He coaxes the rosebud to bloom;
He covers it all with such fragrance, there is found no sweeter perfume.
He gave His love without measure, the just or unjust - it's the same.
His loving arms are held open to all who call on His name.
This great and majestic creator; this wonderful God of the earth;
Who rules o'er celestial beings, declares that our prayers are of worth.
When we talk to Him through our Saviour, if Jesus is King of our life,
He helps us contend with our problems, our hurts, our grief and our strife.
It's not that our life will be simpler, or that our cares fly away,
But He's there to shoulder our burdens, and grant us strength for each day.
That God, this powerful Being, should listen to man's daily woes,
And open His arms to the sinner on whom His love He bestows.
Then grant him the comfort of knowing that in all things He's in control.
And we can surrender our problems; He'll care for our body and soul.
No, we cannot comprehend it, we simply must trust in His grace,
This great, ethereal being Who dwells in that heavenly place.
One day He'll give us the answers to questions that now plague our mind,
When our journey on earth has been ended, and our hardships are all left behind.
Meanwhile, it's not wrong to wonder, nor is it wrong to ask why,
But we must believe God is listening, and our answers will come, by and by.
Doing Things My Way
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2009
I am adverse to change, it disturbs my tranquility,
I prefer to live in the norm, to relish my agility.
I like the things that I do, I like to have things stable,
To have a patterned life, to go where I am able.
To do what I desire, to meet my programmed plan,
I like to have my own routine, all others I will ban.
No one has the right to say I should do this or that,
I know the things I want to do, I know where I am at.
I've worked for my position, 'twas not an easy goal,
But I feel I've achieved it, a good life, on the whole.
I owe all this to no one, it's my accomplishment,
Through many hours of toiling, through many hours spent.
Denying myself pleasures, while others took their ease,
My goals were for my future, then I'll do as I please.
Accountable to no man, my fortune is my own,
Against all odds I struggled, I did it on my own.
And yet I'm discontented, as if things weren't complete,
It seems there's something missing, a challenge I should meet.
Yes, somehow I've lost interest, there's not a soul to share,
My wonderful achievements, there's no one here to care.
I had no time for friendships on the ladder to success,
So one by one they left me, but I felt no distress.
Until one day I noticed, what was it I had gained?
I had amassed great riches, (to which I now feel chained).
I've carved a reputation that many would enjoy,
But in this selfish project, what is it I destroy?
The fellowship of family, the closeness of a friend;
I see this as my failure, on which I canít depend.
To die a lonely miser; what good are riches then?
To find no place for comfort, or start this life again.
It's time to smell the roses, it's time to greet the sun;
It's time to face the music, to view the damage done.
Perhaps life can be salvaged, at least to some degree,
Perhaps I can be useful and help humanity.
This should have happened sooner, but I didn't see the need,
I wasn't fully conscience of my selfishness and greed.
But now my eyes are open, I see that God is there,
He's given me a message that I'm compelled to share,
I'm here, not as a loner, no, that's no longer me,
My heart has found new meaning and finally I feel free.
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 1984
'Tis because of us "Good Christians" that sinners are destroyed.
We feel so just and holy and our minds are "self" employed.
We feel that we are righteous and we surely let it show,
We pretend to pray for sinners with a satisfying glow.
We talk of "lost conditions" and the peril that's ahead.
Yet continually we shelter our "pure minds" from such dread.
We're so busy being "holy" that we never do proclaim,
To our neighbour, God's salvation through our precious Saviour's name.
We attend our clubs and banquets, Sunday School and church as well,
When all the time our neighbour's slowly slipping into hell.
How can we talk sincerely of the lost on foreign shore,
And never see the person who is dying right next door?
To God we're like the Pharisee who smote upon his breast,
And said, "Oh Lord, I'm thankful that I'm not like all the rest."
But God says, "You're a hypocrite" when you show no concern.
"What must I do to teach you? How long before you learn?"
"I sent my Son a ransom for the souls that you can't see,
He suffered pain and sorrow for all humanity."
Yet you who are so "righteous," so proud of your good deeds,
Won't stop to help your neighbour in the midst of all his needs."
If I were on the outside looking at those folks within,
I'd surely stop and ponder what they really thought was sin.
I'd be in no great hurry to be part of such a crowd,
I'd rather just be humble than a hypocrite who's proud.
I see your smile on Sunday and your fancy, well-picked clothes,
But by the time it's Monday once again it seems we're foes.
I don't think in the Bible there's a difference t'ween those days;
But I see it all around me, t'wixt the talking and the ways.
So, if you don't mind, I'd rather not be party to this thing,
I'm sure that I can manage, to my "worldly" ways I'll cling.
At least I'm being honest, doing what I think I should,
And, you could take a lesson, 'stead of thinking that you're good.
Sometime, when you're not busy, come and talk to me of Him,
In the meantime, I'll be watching. Are you really fighting sin?
Not the sins that I've committed, but the ones that are your own
If that's true, then I'll be willing not to walk this road alone.
I will listen to your Master if you show me that He's real;
Not by preaching but by lifestyle, and a genuine, Godly zeal.
"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable then they?"
God Watches Even the Birds
Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2007
The struggle for life of its unborn gifts, so vulnerable, so unprepared,
The worry, the panic, the frightened concern, just as if no one else cared.
This bird of the wild, in a setting unknown, an error in judgment has made,
Instead of the beach, in the soft silvery sands, her eggs in the gravel she laid.
During the week all seemed pristine - a quiet, secure place of rest,
All seemed at peace till the Lord's Day arrived, and worshipers saw the sparse nest.
For mother killdeer had built her abode in a place where no bird should be;
Safer by far in the branches above, in the arms of the old maple tree.
But here is peril, here's danger, here's fear, just how long can her nest stay in place?
Little blue eggs with predators near, formidable in their small space.
Who is their guardian and who sees their plight? The mother bird flutters and cries.
When danger approaches she feigns broken wings, but God sends her help from the skies.
Wonderful miracle, the nest stays intact; how did the shield of dry branches prevail?
The time has elapsed and the little eggs hatched into tiny fluff balls oh so frail.
And dear mother bird, her mission fulfilled, has kept her babies alive.
Faithful and trusting, just doing her best, and God helped them all to survive.