Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Don't Thank Me!

I've been released, I have to go.
You want to say thanks, but please, no -
I must thank you, I've been over paid,
At my door were the blessings laid.

If I looked extra happy, when doing my job
It's because I felt needed, by my friends and my God.
I've stored away treasures in Heaven this year
And gained new friendships, I'll always hold dear.

My testimony has been enriched
Some old habits I've even ditched.
So you see I've gained, and what did I give?
Did I do my best, and a good example live?

Well, - the good Lord and I - we know I tried,
But could have done better, that can't be denied.
So please don't thank me, I want to thank you,
For the encouragement, the help. those things that you do.

But especially to thank the Lord up above
For His mercy, His wisdom, His counsel and love
And pray that soon He'll choose me again
To help serve - and be helped by me fellow men.

barbara cope
copyright 1964

A Testimony

It's a funny thing about a testimony,
You can't put it back on a shelf
You can't let it rest
You can't let it hide
Or it will disintegrate itself.
You may think it sure
You may be content
And say, "I have quiet enough
Of fasting and study and praying
And all the religious stuff."
But sure as you do
And sure as you fail
To build, to strengthen, to strive
You'll find that your precious testimony
May no longer be alive.
So give it a kick!
A shot in the arm,
Stop the excuses and the baloney.
It's time to strive, to work and revive

barbara cope
copyright 1970

My Chrysanthemums

I have a small vase with large, white, bright chrysanthemums
On  my kitchen window.
Three things are special about them.

First , they were given to me by a very handsome young man,
Out of love, and a desire to please.
Though - the stems are too short and they were not yet in full bloom.

Second, I had planted them myself a year ago -
And although they had been neglected,
And left un-watered through the summer heat,
An had been abused by the children's play,
They still persevered
And brought pleasure to me today.

And third, although as I mentioned, 
When Brent gave them to me,
They were not in their prettiest bloom,
Each day , they grow more beautiful
And more bright and white,
And bring more happiness into my kitchen.

I wish I were like the chrysanthemums.
Growing strong on my own -
Through the discomforts of life -
Unruffled by the children's play -
And always ready to give of myself 
To make another's day brighter and happier.

barbara cope
copyright  Oct. 29, 1967

Monday, March 5, 2012

Our Breakfast Room

In the corner of our house stand a room
     so bright and cheerful
And it holds our memories
     whether gay or tearful.

This is the room where
     memories were made,
Where through the years of family life,
     our hopes and dreams were laid.

Where mother baked her bread and goodies
     that filled us kids with sheer delight,
And daddy balanced the budget
     or played games with us till way into the night.

Where sister took the phone
     from noise to get away,
And brother worked a crossword puzzle
     on a lazy day.

Through its window the sun
     has welcomed each new day.
Around its table sat the family
     to eat or work or play.

Every house should have a room
     where memories are made,
That sits in summer sunshine
     or in the winter shade.

And turns a house into a home
     through years of love and pain
To let the children always know
     they can come home again.

barbara cope
Copyright Feb 26, 1962