In whispers soft and voices bold, Through earthly shepherds, tales are told. Yet human flaws and earthly taint, Can mar the pictures saints might paint.
For power lures with gilded touch, And wealth can tempt the hearts too much; In palaces where jewels bedeck, The shepherd’s path may well deflect.
The flock may stray, the night may deepen, As mortal guides their trust miskeepen. For all are men, and men may falter, Beside the gold-lit altar.
But hark! A call from realms above, Of one pure Shepherd, crowned in love. Jesus Christ, the Son, the Light, Who shepherds with no earthly blight.
No sin in Him, no guile or greed, Perfect in thought, in word, in deed. This Shepherd leads on pathways right, His staff a beacon in the night.
In Him alone, the flock finds peace, From Him, all fears may find release. The living Son, the eternal guide, In whom all hopes and truths abide.
So listen not to human plea, But in Christ’s light, true pathways see. For through His voice, and His alone, The way to brighter pastures shown.
If your life pours forth only a whine, not the wine, Eject the sour, let not the bitter roots entwine; For in the vineyard where faith’s grapes should grow, A Christian stands, not in shadows low.
To dwell in weakness when strength is given, By the mighty hand of the benevolent heaven, Is to commit the gravest sin of all, To see the shield and sword, yet choose to fall.
Harness the power from the Lord above, Embrace His might, endure in His love; Kick out the tremors of fruitless fear, For you are called to be strong, His path to steer.
Let not your spirit to frailty cling, Nor to the dirges of despair sing; Rise, for you have the celestial might, To turn your whine into wine, into radiant light.
Thus, walk in strength, all weakness spurn, With faith as your guide, let your spirit burn; A beacon of hope, a testament true, Of what God’s unfailing strength can do.
In a realm where shadows stretch and wide rivers flow, Amidst the whispers of ancient winds that secrets know, There lies a single path, narrow, with a gentle glow, Where souls, weary and yearning, to seek and grow.
No other way to the divine, no other route to trod, But through the grace of His Son, the blessed Son of God. Beneath the heavens’ expanse, on verdant earth we lay, Bowing our heads in humility as we fervently pray.
Jesus, the bridge over sin’s tumultuous sea, Offers His hand, His heart, to set the burdened free. Through whispered prayers, and tears silently cried, He guides us, His light unwavering, at our side.
The world spins, relentless, in its orbit’s bind, Yet in His presence, a peace we surely find. With heads bowed low, in reverence profound, In the quiet sanctum where His grace abounds.
For no golden idols, nor earthly kings’ decrees, Can lead us to the peace that Jesus freely gives. Only through His love, so vast, so deep, so wide, Can we cross the chasm to stand by His side.
Thus, walk the path, in faith may you tread, Through the Son to God, just as He said. In every bowed head, every prayer’s gentle sway, Lies the sacred passage, the truth, the way.
Wars rage not just on battlefields grim and stark, But in the shadowed corners of every weary heart. Victory claimed by fire and steel’s cold bite, Leaves only ashes, remnants of spite.
True conquest lies not in the silenced scream, Nor in the landscapes of some tyrant’s dream. For every city razed, every mother’s tear, Sows the bitter seeds of another war near.
The mightiest force wields no weapon or shield, But the quiet strength in the human field, Where compassion roots deeper than old enmities, Where understanding breaks chains, sets spirits free.
True peace blossoms through the heart’s own door, A tranquil harbor from the inner war. When hearts are mended, so too are nations’ ties,In the soft, hushing whispers of reconciled cries.
From the heart’s peace, there springs a well so clear, That those who drink may never again fear. For only when the heart’s war ceases to rage, Will peace truly ink history’s next page.
Let us march not to the drums of war, but to the song of peace, Where every note played is a promise to cease. With each heart that chooses the path of calm delight, We find the dawn of love and end the long, dark night.
In valleys deep where shadows dwell, Where human strength succumbs and pales, Beyond the reach of weary hands, In whispered tones, true prayer avails.
It climbs the peaks of somber fears, It crosses oceans, silent, hails The dawn of hope on distant shores, Where human effort falters, fails.
Beneath the weight of life’s harsh trials, When heavy heart like anchor flails, Light pierces through the brooding storm, With gentle force, soft prayer prevails.
For there, within the sacred calm, Where peace resides and love entails, The soul finds strength not born of earth, And in its quiet trust, inhales.
So let us kneel in humble stance, And lift our voices, tell the tales Of how, when human might retracts, A whispered prayer always avails.
In the quiet whispers of dawn, you’ll find, That time has streaked grey through your loyal friend’s fur, Once a vibrant youth, now serenely refined, His eyes, a soft cloud, his steps unsure.
Remember the days, unmarked and wide, When he bounded through fields, his spirit untamed? Now he ambles beside, with a dignified stride, Through the silence where once his excitement flamed.
Children grow, they stretch and reach high, Blazing through life with a voracious thirst. But your dog, steadfast under the same sky, Watches time pass, from last to first.
He was there—before love painted your world, Before joy and heartbreak were through your door. When solitude around your heart curled, His warmth was the comfort you lived for.
Through every upheaval, he was the constant, true, From apartment to house, through every shift. In your darkest moments, when few understood you, His presence alone was a sacred gift.
Cherish the naps, the walks, each moment spent, For he doesn’t complain, though his pace has slowed. Each day a treasure, silently lent, On the unspoken pact to which he’s bowed.
One day you’ll notice his lagging tread, His need to rest, mid-path, grown deep. And you’ll recall the years that sped, Through each shared journey, his promise to keep.
Nobody warns, the days discreetly flee, With the dog who has seen all shades of you. Cherish him now, let your heart see The beauty of years carried through.
So hold him close, with love that clings, Through whispered names and soft, slow walks. For in the echoes of the love he brings, Lies the deepest talk you’ll ever talk.
In a field where the stern are revered, A Labrador’s grin broadly appeared. Roger, not one for the line, For sniffing out crime, Was “too friendly,” and thus, out he veered.
Trained young for the tasks of the law, Taiwan’s customs found one glaring flaw. Not a trace of the mean, In his warm eyes a sheen, For the narcotics patrol, he’d withdraw.
Yet, where strict doors closed, windows flung wide, In earthquake’s harsh wake he’d reside. Through rubble and fear, His mission was clear, A rescuer with bounds none could hide.
Lee saw past the bounds of the norm, In disasters, he’d eagerly swarm. With a sniff and a bound, Lost souls he found, From tragedy, hope he’d transform.
A quake shook the roots of Taiwan, Roger’s heart and his legs carried on. The temblor’s fierce dance, Gave this pup one more chance, To prove worth beyond what’s gone.
“Too friendly?” A fault turned to gold, In the tales of his rescues, retold. Though his service concludes, And quietude broods, Roger’s legacy will warmly hold.
So here’s to the dog too affable, Whose saga proves rather adaptable. From misfit to hero, His count not near zero, In hearts and in history, he’s graspable.
