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The Father's Hand

While through this changing world below

I would not choose my path to go;
‘Tis the Father’s hand that leadeth me,
Then O how safe His child must be.

Sometimes we walk in sunshine bright,
Sometimes in darkness of the night;
Sometimes the way I cannot see
But Father’s hand still leadeth me.

Sometimes there seems no way to take,
But Father’s hand a way doth make.
Sometimes I hear Him gently say,
“Come follow Me, this is the way”.

Why should I mind the way I go?
His way is best for me, I know.
He is my strength, my truth, my way,
He is my comfort, rod, and stay.

So on we travel hand in hand,
Bound for the heavenly promised land
Always through all Eternity,

I’ll praise His name for leading me.

- Ida L. Cornett -
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My Life, My All

“Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” “Then said I, hear am I; send me.” Isaiah 6:8

Comfy and cozy in my home so sweet,
Couches and tables, tidy and neat.
Brand new floor—the best one can buy;
Plush, rich carpet to step on and sigh.

A bedroom for each of the members so dear,
Nice warm quilts—the cold I shan’t fear.
Beautiful music fills each lovely room;
Central vacuum—no need for a broom.
Windows that tilt, so easy to clean;
Garage for my car—what more do I need!
Oh, I cannot forget the beautiful lawn,
White picket fence, flowers and all.
Swings for the children, a glider for me,
But, Lord, what is this, oh, what do I see?
Is that a home there on that hill?
It is only of plywood, no window or sill.
He takes me inside, What’s this on the floor?
No beautiful carpet, but dirt door to door.
One room is this home for all members inside,
Who sleep all together when evening draws nigh.
No beautiful music, blankets, or beds,
No quilts or soft pillows to lay weary heads.
No need for a vacuum, a palm branch will do;
To tidy the floor, it serves as a broom.
No dirty windows that tilt in for ease,
This home has no need for any of these.
Oh, Lord, their backyard has no lush grass
For the children to play on, for time to pass.
The swing is a vine from a nearby tree,
No pretty flowers, oh, how can it be!
While I sit in comfort, life filled with ease,
They daily struggle for food to appease.
While I fill my head with your precious word,
Their hearts remain darkened for they haven’t yet heard
Of the hope filled life only Jesus can give,
Of the blessed news a Savior for them lives.
Oh Lord tell me what, what shall I do?
For surely they must be told all about You.
I give You my life and luxuries all,
I give You my family, whatever the call,
I give You whatever You will ask of me,
All, so these captive souls can truly be set free.


To the glory and praise of God Almighty
And His blessed Son, Jesus Christ, 
My Redeemer and Saviour


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Alone with God

I met with God in the morning,
When all was dark and still,
And asked for strength and courage,
His love my heart to fill.

I spent some time before Him,
Bowed low upon my knee,
To thank Him for His mercy,
And that He cares for me.
It seemed to calm my spirit
To be with Him alone.
Oh, what a place of blessing
Before His awesome throne!

I rose to face my duties,
My heart all free from care,
For I had dropped my worries
While kneeling down in prayer!

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I Am Habit

It is mighty hard to shake me.
In my brawny arms I take thee,
I can either make or break thee.
I am habit.

Through each day, I slowly mold thee.
Soon my tightening chains enfold thee,
Then it is with ease I hold thee;
Thus, a habit.

I can be both good or vile.
I can even be worth your while
Or the cause of your bitter cry,
I am habit.

Oft I’ve proved myself a pleasure,
Proved myself a priceless treasure
Or a meanness passed all measure
Thus, a habit.

Harmless though I sometimes be,
Yet my strange force is like a magnet
Like a great and greedy dragnet,
I am habit.

Though you sometimes fear or doubt me,
No one yet has lived without me.
I am present all about thee,
Thus, a habit.

Choose me well when you are starting,
Seldom is an easy parting,
I am a devil or a darling.
I am habit.

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Catch the Vision

Catch the vision of a banner
Lifted high and raising hope
To blood-spattered, weary soldiers
Who have felt the bruising stroke.


Catch the vision of a healing
For the heart contrite with sin,
Bringing beauty for the ashes—
Bringing peace amidst the din.
Catch the vision of a captive
Bursting forth from prison door
To announce the great deliv’rance
To the hurting, to the poor.


Catch the vision of the blinded,
Praises from his lips streaming.
He has seen God’s mighty kingdom—
He’s like a man a-dreaming.


Catch the vision of Jerus’lem,
Glorious city on a hill,
A lamp burning with great brightness,
Motivated by His will.


Catch the vision of the holy,
No desire but to please Him:
Left behind the temporary,
All earth’s notions, ev’ry whim.


Catch the vision of a pilgrim,
Blazing trails, eyes on the goal.
He is mocked; he is so battered.
But he has grace, bless his soul!


Catch the vision of a meeting,
Of a King, and of a bride.
Expectations surge within her—
For eternity! By His side!

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No Rest

My soul is not at rest within,
My heart for action calls,
For I have seen the chains of sin,
Have shuddered at its galls.

The vows of God upon my life,
Constrain all strength and nerve.
His call has pierced me as a knife;
Him only will I serve!

The voice of loved ones, freedom, fame,
Have all grown strangely dim;
My heart’s desire’s now informed,
To fully follow Him!

He was a man of sorrows, grief
His footsteps now I trace;
Dare I search out selfish relief,
While He has run the race?

But, no! I too shall fight the fight
Which He has planned for me!
No matter what the cost of right,
E’en this my cause shall be:

To tell of all His wond’rous love,
Salvation’s call so free.
And point souls to my Lord above
Who’s done so much for me.

You think it as a sacrifice
To leave this secure land,
Forsaking comforts oh, so nice
And houses which are grand;

But I am thinking of my Lord
Who left His deity,
Upon the ground His blood was poured
Purchased salvation free.

So someday, in a far-off land
My dying eyes I’ll lift,
To gaze on Afric’s burning sand,
My life lay down—a gift.

Then when on heaven’s golden shore
The natives sing His praise;
My heart with joy shall swell yet more
And there thanksgiving raise!

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