Quite a few years ago, while living in Atlanta, I wrote down the words to this song. As I can not play an instrument or sing well, it has remained as a poem. If anyone would like to place the tune and make this a song, I would be pleased to no end.
Jesus was a silent child, of mystery they say,
His birth was a
true miracle, in every single way.
Angels came to sing of Him, to
the shepherd they convey,
The story of a new born King, in a
stable down the way.
"A child, a child" ... the excited shepherds cried,
In the
streets of a cool winter’s morn.
Of a shining light, they spoke,
in trembling words,
And angels singing praise from the
heavens.
Levites and Angels...
They spent the next four days camped there, in what was left of the little compound. Upon hearing my tale of the things that had taken place, a search was made for the remains of the others, but nothing was found.
Of Love and Hate...
"As long as I have to make this trip," Brother Bradley said as his fingers gripped the arm-rest of his seat, "I will always pray for the landing." Even in his good-natured way of speaking, I could still feel I was not alone in the fear of that landing. Terry, on the other hand, just laughed, and thanked him for the prayers. As we opened the doors and started to off load the crates, an odd feeling came over me, like the after effects of my nightmares– a shadow of fear.
Visions of God...
After I had watched the fireworks show, and started to walk back to my camp, I stopped in the middle of the bridge spanning the Humboldt Bay. As I looked back at town, I saw the boats at the docks there on the first little island. At that moment something strange happened. I was caught up in a vision, one of wonder, beauty, power, horror, and great sorrow.
Southern Lights...
I made it to Atlanta by middle of August without much trouble, a few rainy nights, and several meals missed out on, which had become more than normal. I found a good place, the Methodist United Safe Night of Rest, or MUSNOR, if you saw the sign from a distance as I did. I was blessed the whole way down to Atlanta, other than two storms, and even found a couple of days of work on the way, doing construction labor for pocket money.
Thy light shines not in my darkest moment,
in the
lost hour of my darkened heart.
My heart is lost in the depth of
the world's darkness,
but lifted up by Thy glory.
The Watchman....
The end draweth near, the watchman
cries,
yet the trump has yet to
sound.
The enemy rages, to devour what he will,
as the faithful dwindles down.
We
stand at the brink of the very last day,
so few to heed the criers dark words,
as he laments
the loss of man.
What's In A Name...
Closing my Bible, I looked up to see James Dupree coming towards me, two cups in his hand, one of which he handed to me. The big Irishman smiled at me over the steaming coffee, strong and hot in the cool morning air.
Prayers in the Wind...
Neither of us spoke that night, both lost and locked away in the darkness of our thoughts, knowing the end would come soon-- painfully, but soon. I still could not find in my heart the words to pray, only to say repeatedly, "Oh God, oh God." As the sun started coming up, I found that we were both still awake, staring in the darkness.
Where I Belong...
That next day I went in to the Eureka Mission to speak with the people there. I checked with the director at that time, Bill Thomas, and asked if he could make a call for me. When I told him I was wanting to get in touch with friends at World Missions, he just laughed, but giving him the national number to call and the contact persons name, he made the call.
Mission Nights...
Though I loved the coastal beaches of California, the Redwoods truly stole my heart, trees tall enough to reach the sky, and so old they were planted by God's own hand. Taking Interstate 40 to Los Angeles was a tough time. They don't allow pedestrians on any freeway in California, and with a county road all the sudden being marked as a freeway when it comes to a town, I spent a lot of time sitting at off-ramps, waiting for a ride to take me even to the next off ramp.
Trial by Fire...
Making the flight back to the USA was no problem. As a matter of fact, I made it to the airport and had to wait for nearly 6 hours before the plane left. I had a sandwich to eat and a bad cup of coffee, and tried to catch a nap. As that failed to happen I just walked around the air terminal for several hours.
Old English Home...
The "Embassy of Christian Ministries" was a rather small office in the U.N. Embassy Suite, a single secretary and a clerk that both looked rather bored. I was able to actually meet the Director of World Missions, William Jamison, well, I spoke to him on the phone. He seemed very polite, telling me that he had read the reports on me so far, and was glad to hear of the work I had done. He thanked me for taking the time to be with the school group, and I let him know that I was more part of the group than a leader for it. He just laughed at that.
With the way Man is these days it make me wonder... How far off is God's final Judgement.
