The Invitation

All are called, but few reply,
So many tasks before I die.
There’s always time — or so I say,
I’ll think of you another day.

After all, I cannot see
The One who whispers, “Come to me.”
My hands are full with things I see —
My world, my plans, my vanity.

But someday, maybe, when I’m free,
I’ll pause and finally turn to Thee.
Yet time moves fast, the door may close —
Will I respond before life goes?

“For many are called, but few are chosen.”
— Matthew 22:14

For His Glory
MarkWaldrop

It is said tears wash grief away,
The Creator planned it just that way.
Soft rain that falls from sorrowed eyes,
A gift from heaven to cleanse the skies.

Each tear that slips down trembling face,
Carries pain, yet leaves a trace—
Of love once held, now memory’s flame,
A gentle whisper of their name.

It teaches hearts to understand,
The ache that dwells in fellow man.
That we might kneel beside their pain,
And cry with them through storm and rain.

For shared tears hold a healing grace,
Like rivers flowing to embrace.
Grief divides, but tears unite—
In darkest hour, they bring the light.

So let them fall, both yours and mine,
In tears, God’s mercy intertwines.
And hand in hand, through night and day,
We’ll help each other wash grief away

Rom 12:15  Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. 

 For His Glory
Mark Waldrop

If I do nothing, nothing is done,
No race is started, no prize is won.
God watches over, His eyes so clear,
But He placed my hands and feet down here.

He gave me breath, He gave me days,
A heart to work, a voice to praise.
He expects me to rise, to stand, to go,
To plant the seeds and help them grow.

Faith is trust, but faith must move,
In every step, His love will prove.
For prayers alone won’t build the wall —
He strengthens hands that answer the call.

So I will work, and I will pray,
Trusting Him to guide my way.
He walks beside, He leads ahead,
But I must rise from this old bed.

If I do nothing, nothing is done,
But with my Father, I’ll outrun the sun.
Together, we will walk this land —
My life, my work, all in His hand.

For His Honor
MarkWaldrop

I can’t wait to get on the road again,
To see the smiles of my dear friends.
Through miles and time, our hearts stay near,
Their voices like music I long to hear.

No treasure shines, no gold compares,
To the love a faithful friendship shares.
For friends are gifts — pure, tried, and true,
A glimpse of heaven in all we do.

So I’ll pack my bags, my heart so light,
Chasing laughter into the night.
For wealth may fade and fame will end 
But priceless is the heart of a friend.

For His Glory
MarkWaldrop

My family waiting on the front porch of Heaven, arms open wide, calling to me,
Straining to see if the next soul coming down the road might be kin they’ve longed to see.

It seems like forever since we last embraced, hearts yearning across time’s divide,
But now Heaven’s light softens the distance, and love beckons me inside.

We’ll sit and laugh, caught up in stories only family knows how to tell,
Each memory a treasure, each word making our hearts swell.

What a glorious homecoming that will be — joy running wild and free,
When family and friends gather at last, in God’s eternal love we’ll see.

No more goodbyes, no more tears, only light and perfect peace,
A home where love endures, and every longing finds release.

So I’ll walk that road, my heart set on home, my faith steady and strong,
For the front porch of Heaven is waiting — and I’ve been expected all along.

For His Glory
MarkWaldrop

No man’s ever the same, once he’s crossed the sand,
The desert leaves its mark like a scar on his hand.
Each step burns a lesson, each breath carves a line,
In the silence, he wrestles with something divine.

He either takes something — a truth hard and clear,
Or leaves something behind, like doubt or like fear.
The sun strips him bare, the wind wears him thin,
Till all that remains is the fire within.

No map can prepare him, no words can explain,
The weight of the silence, the sweetness of rain.
He meets his own shadow, his soul face to face,
In the wide open nowhere, he finds his own place.

For the desert is ruthless, but honest and true,
It takes what you cling to and shows you what’s you.
No man’s ever the same, once the sands have been crossed —
Some find themselves whole, and some count the cost.

For His Glory
MarkWaldrop

Everything you love may fade,
Like footprints lost where tides have played.
A whispered name, a fleeting touch,
The echoes soft of those we clutch.

Yet love is not a thing confined,
It shifts, it bends, it redefines.
A seed that falls, the rain’s embrace,
It blooms again in time and space.

Through aching loss, through sorrow’s mist,
A hand will reach, a dawn persist.
For love returns in forms unknown,
A voice, a light, a kindness shown.

Embrace the change, let go, expand,
Like rivers carve the yielding land.
Pain to wonder, loss to grace,
Love will find its rightful place.

MarkWaldrop

In a quiet place, I stand in Your Grace,
A refuge of peace in this sacred space.
Without Your love, where would I be?
Lost in the storm, adrift at sea.

But You, O Lord, are ever near,
Your whispered truth, so calm, so clear.
For Grace and Mercy flow from above,
Poured out in boundless, endless love.

These gifts are found in Jesus’ name,
The Lamb of God, the One who came.
He walked among us, pure and true,
Revealing all that Love can do.

For Jesus said, “Come, follow Me,
If you have seen Me, then My Father you see.”
Through Him, we learn, through Him, we live,
And in His light, our souls forgive.

So in this quiet, here I stay,
Wrapped in Grace, I kneel and pray.
For all I need is found in Thee,
My Savior, Lord—eternally.

God is Love.

MarkWaldrop

         Masterpiece

Each one of us, a masterpiece rare,
Crafted by God with infinite care.
Not born of chance, nor lost in the tide,
But shaped by His love, with purpose inside.

Through winding paths and trials unknown,
We never walk this road alone.
His hands have formed us, strong and true,
With a work to fulfill, a calling to do.

In Christ, we’re made not just anew,
But set apart with a mission in view.
Not random acts, but plans divine,
Threads of grace in His grand design.

A word of kindness, a hand to lend,
A light to shine, a heart to mend.
Each step we take, His love displays,
Guiding our lives in wondrous ways.

So walk with faith, stand bold and free,
For you are His—His artistry.
A vessel of hope, a spark of His grace,
A masterpiece held in His warm embrace.

MarkWaldrop