My Purpose

My purpose in establishing this blog is neither for material gain nor recognition of any sort. Most of the postings will be poetry that I am certain the Lord has given me, most of it written over the past twenty years, often from ideas that came to me in the wee hours of the morning. Most of my poetry has to do with Christian ideas and thoughts that give another perspective to what many of us who wear the Name of Christ have experienced or are experiencing. No one has learned more about God and the way that He works with and through man than I have as I worked my way through each of these writings. It is my hope and prayer than all who take the time to read what I have been given to put on paper will gain new insights and be uplifted and strengthened by these words that I have been given.

God Has No Opposite

A great many Christians, I’m afraid, unwittingly subscribe to the doctrine of dualism, even though they may never heard of it nor have even the slightest idea of what the term means. They tend, I ‘m convinced, to think of God and Satan as two great cosmic forces who are equally balanced and who are locked in an almost equal struggle for the control of the universe. Nothing could be farther from the truth! To explain the difference is the purpose of this poem.

God Has No Opposite

God has no opposite. There is no perfect imperfection,
And hate as deep as His great love Is but a human misconception.
The goodness of God is absolute; That cannot be said of evil,
For evil is but corrupted good. ‘Tis pride that corrupts the devil.
Satan is not God’s opposite! He’s but a fallen angel;
As a bad man is to one that’s good, So old Satan is to Michael.
Without good, you see, there would be no bad; They’re not mutually exclusive,
For bad is but corrupted good. It’s not what but how men use it.
Satan’s sin was selfish pride And he passed it on to man.
He made self the object of man’s love Instead of the great “I AM.”
He took the things that God had made And turned them upside down,
Turned love to hate and life to death And brought a curse upon the ground.
No, Satan is not God’s opposite. He’s an angel with free will
Who chose, instead of serving God, To hate and maim and kill;
To corrupt and destroy what God calls good, With a special hate for man,
Whom God created to share His love As the focus of His great Plan.
Yes, God certainly has no opposite, And we need to understand
That Satan is not His equal, But a rebel to God’s command;
A rebel whose been defeated, Whose plans have been brought to naught
By the death of God’s Son on Calvary’s cross, Which mankind’s redemption bought.

a. franklin staples

January 22, 1991
© 1991 by A. Franklin Staples

The Ways of God Are Not my Ways

THE WAYS OF GOD ARE NOT MY WAYS!

The ways of God are not my ways, for He alone is Lord.
Really all that I can do is take Him at His word.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts; much higher His than mine,
For He sees through all eternity while I am bound by time.

The ways of God are not my ways, for His are straight and sure.
While mine are twisted and bent by sin, His are Holy and Pure.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts, not logical to me,
But human logic does not stand up to the God of Eternity.

The ways of God are not my ways. They are past finding out.
I need not bother to tax my strength to seek what they're about.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts, for He is infinite.
My finite mind can't comprehend His Wisdom and His Might.

The ways of God are not my ways. He is the God of Power
While I am weak and poor and blind. I need Him every hour.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts. He end from beginning sees
While my poor mind oft cannot discern the forest for the trees.

The ways of God are not my ways. I cannot understand
How He made the worlds and holds them up by the power of His hand.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts. His are Holy, Righteous, Just.
Mine are weak and base and lowly. In Him alone can I trust.

The ways of God are not my ways. He's of infinite dimension,
But length and depth and width and time are all that I can mention.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts. His Wisdom and His grace
My feeble efforts so far surpass as to make them commonplace.

The ways of God are not my ways. I see His mighty acts
And consider them as miracles. To Him they are but facts.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts. His are the sublime.
Mine are human, shallow, earthy, confined in a span of time.

The ways of God are not my ways. He does not act in haste,
While I don't take time to smell the flowers or to savour some great taste.
The thoughts of God are not my thoughts. He is the God of love.
My thoughts are often fixed below, not on things above.

The ways of God are not my ways. My mind cannot take in
His Goodness and His Mercy, or His Judgment of man's sin.
God's thoughts are not my thoughts. I can do no more than try
To live as He directs me, and on His Grace rely.

God's ways are not my ways. I cannot understand
How He will deal eternally with those in heathen lands.
God's thoughts are not my thoughts. I can do no more
Than rest upon His promises, for they are true and sure.

a. franklin staples
1 Based on Isaiah 55:8,9

January 16, 1989

Copyright © 1989
by
A. Franklin Staples

Remembrance Day

What Do You Remember?

What do you remember of Nineteen and Thirty-nine
When war-clouds darkened the world’s skies To which yet some were blind?
What do you remember of that time of awful strife;
Of the German hordes and their Nazi lords and their disregard for life?
What do you remember of that time of total war,
When Canada’s sons and daughters fought on foreign shores?
What do you remember of those days now long gone by
When men-of-war plied the Seven Seas and warplanes filled the sky?
What do you remember of the bloodshed, the pain, the fear
Of “Missing in action; presumed dead.” — Words loved ones dreaded to hear?
What do you remember of that time away back then;
Of blackouts and of Victory Bonds and talk of fighting men?
What do you remember of Nineteen and Forty-five;
Of weary men on battle fronts just glad to be alive?
What do you remember, if anything at all,
Of the awful cost of all-out war when men answer duty’s call?
What do you remember of those returning home
With wounded legs and arms and eyes and terrors all their own.
What do you remember? Quite a lot, if you’re like me,
Even though, when that war began, I had not quite yet turned three.
But you say, “I can’t remember.” Then think and watch and pray
And give thanks to God, who made us all, for the freedoms you have today.

a. franklin staples
Copyright© 1992
by A. Franklin Staples

He Makes the Ugly Beautiful

He Makes the Ugly Beautiful

So you messed up again today

And you’re feeling so let down.

You think that God’s forsaken you,

That you’re not worthy of a crown;

Or your life’s been O so ugly -

There’s no beauty you can find,

And you think that God can’t love you.

Well, you’d better change your mind,

For loving is God’s business!

He sent His Son to die

That grace might be extended.

He hears the sinner’s cry.

Ah, the God who forms a diamond

From an ugly lump of coal

Can take a life that’s marred by sin

And make it clean and whole.

He makes the ugly beautiful,

Makes glad the saddened heart,

Puts back together, nay, makes brand new

What sin has torn apart.

a. franklin staples

June 5, 1991

Lord, I Thank You

Lord, I Thank You

Lord, I thank You for the trees and birds

And for the myriad flowers;

I thank You for the silence

Of the early morning hours.

I thank You, Lord, for air to breathe

And nourishing food to eat;

I thank You for the grace to take

The bitter with the sweet.

I thank You, Lord, for the family

That has so enriched my life;

I thank You for her whom You gave to me

To have and hold as wife.

I thank You for life’s blessings,

So many I can’t name;

I thank You, Lord, that in a changing world

You’re always just the same.

I thank You for the tests of life,

The hardships and the trials,

And I thank You, Lord, for the helping hands

And for the cheery smiles.

I thank You for Your Faithfulness

When I am plagued by doubt;

I thank You, Lord, for things I’ve missed,

Those that I’ve left out.

I thank You, Lord, for sunshine

And I thank You for the rain

And for all those things I’ve thanked You for,

I thank You, Lord, again.

a. franklin staples

October 7-16, 1991

The Demise of the Cardigan Bridge

The Demise of Cardigan Bridge

‘Twas the year of nineteen and seventy,
Morning of February Four,
When the ice of the Keswick River
Broke up with a deafening roar,
And was soon jammed up in jagged cakes
That groaned and creaked and shoved
On the upriver side of old Cardigan Bridge
That had stood for years, unmoved.
Now many’s the flood that it had endured
Since ‘twas built in the year Twenty-nine,
And nary a once did it move even an inch
In all of that length of time.
It had been travelled by horses and wagons and such
And people on foot used it, too,
And many’s the car that was slowed to a walk
As the old covered bridge it passed through,
For the signs at its portals warned of a fine,
A large one it was back then, too,
Twenty whole dollars, a fortune almost,
If faster than a walk one drove through!
Now, the first car to traverse it, I have been told,
Was Ralph Colter’s old Ford Model A,
And the last was a half-ton owned by Doug Jones
In the early morning of its very last day.
At about nine in the morning of February four,
As the ice jam built up on its north side,
The old bridge began to creak and to groan
And then it began to slide
Right off its pilings, like launching a boat,
And down the Keswick it plowed,
Around the first turn and then `round another
As the rain still poured down from the clouds.
Beaten and battered, twisted and torn,
It came finally to rest on the shore—
After forty-one years of spanning those waters,
The Cardigan Bridge was no more.

a. franklin staples

Copyright© 1990 by Allison F. Staples

Making A Banana Split

Making A Banana Split

Did you ever try making a banana split? Let me tell you that it is one of the most difficult things I have ever tried.

Why, I believe it would be a lot easier to make a hardwood board split than it is to make a banana split! The one time in my life that I tried it, I was a total failure.

In the first place, just how do you go about making a banana split? Do you talk to it? That’s a BIG problem in itself because I’m not sure bananas hear very well. In fact, I’m convinced that a banana is totally deaf!

The one I talked to for half an hour gave absolutely no indication that it heard one word I said. And as for splitting---why not even the tiniest weeniest crack was evident!


a. franklin staples
May 23, 1991