Of King David’s Royal Line..


It was not two lowly peasants, on that night so long ago,
Who trod the road to Bethlehem where Cyrenius had them go,
But a man and wife of royal blood, of King David's royal line.
A prince and princess they would have been at some other point in time.
But David's house no longer reigned upon Judea's throne
For the land was in subjection to the Emperor of Rome
And Roman legions trod streets and roads of all of Israel,
While the faithful waited for Messiah to come, the King — Emmanuel.
No Royal Suite awaited them at the inn in Beth'lem town,
For when they sought for lodging, no room could there be found.
Naught but a lowly stable could be offered to them there,
A humble lodging, to say the least, for such a royal pair.
The woman, being great with child, in labour soon did lay,
And ere long brought forth a baby boy upon the bed of hay.
And to poor shepherds in the fields the host of heaven sings
For the child born in that stable there will be the King of kings.
Born of a virgin mother, Mary, herself of royal blood,
He was the Heir to David's Throne that the prophets had foretold.
The Son of God had come to earth from His home in heaven above
To dwell with men and to die for them to show His Father's love.
Wise men from far, far away came bearing gifts to Him
Of gold and frankincense and myrrh, as befits a Saviour King.
Not in a palace would He dwell, but a carpenter's humble home,
The perfect, sinless Son of God, heir to David's throne.
One day He would die upon a cross, rejected, despised of men,
To pay the price that God demanded as payment for their sin.
But the heavenly Heir to David's throne, born of the royal seed,
One day will reign as King of kings and Lord of lords indeed!

a. franklin staples
December 18, 1995

Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples

The Bethlehem Star
( An introduction to “The Glory’s Return”)

God has given us a mind with which to think and to attempt to understand what He has written for our instruction in His Word. Far too often, it seems, we fall into the trap of accepting tradition as fact rather than comparing it to the clear teaching of Scripture by adhering to the principles of Bible study laid down in those Scriptures.

Each year at “Christmas” time Christians give special attention to the birth of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and to the marvellous events that accompanied His birth. One of those “secondary” events, for all such events are secondary to the birth itself, was the sudden appearance of the mysterious “star” which guided the Magi to the house where the baby reposed in the town of Bethlehem.

That “star” has puzzled many for centuries for there are no astronomical records of any kind of any strange or unusual heavenly bodies appearing at that time, not withstanding the fact that accurate astronomical records were kept as a matter of course by astrologers in many lands long before that time, Various attempts have been made either to explain the “star” or to explain it away, none of which attempts is satisfactory or in complete accordance with the Scriptural record. It has been labelled a very bright “comet”, some have even suggested Halley’s. It has been explained as a periodic conjunction of several planets, similar to one which we observed just a few years ago. Some have even said that it was an angel.

Whatever it was, it constituted what C. S. Lewis describes as a Supernatural event, something from outside of the realm of nature that enters into it, and is accommodated by it because it is made to do so, since both have the same Creator.  Because it was supernatural, it is therefore useless and futile to look to Nature or to Science, the explorer and material explainer of nature, for a satisfactory explanation of its occurrence. Instead we must go to the only Source of explanation that the Creator has given us for Supernatural events - His own Holy and inspired Word.

Have a look at the poem...

The Glory’s Return

On a night long ago, in Bethlehem town,
The LORD of creation to this earth did come down
To be born as a Babe in the kingdom of men,
And to die on a cross to save them from sin.

To poor shepherds a-watching their flocks on that night
God’s angels appeared - what a glorious sight -
And the ‘GLORY OF GOD”, the Shekinah of old,
Shone ‘round about them as the Good News was told.

For it had returned, that marvellous light
That signalled God’s presence in Judea that night,
As it had to the Hebrews as from Egypt they fled,
In the Pillar of Fire by which they were led.

Around Moses on Sinai that Glory did flood
And his face, in its presence, did shine as he stood
To deliver to Israel the Law that was given,
With a brilliance of glory directly from heaven.

In the wilderness Tabernacle it also did dwell,
Between the two cherubim to show all was well
Between God and His people with whom He would meet
When the blood of the bullock stained the gold Mercy Seat.

It dwelt in the Tabernacle throughout David’s reign,
And King Solomon’s Temple it did not disdain,
But as Israel’s people to idols did turn
And of God’s promised judgment of captivity learn.

The prophet Ezekiel saw it depart
From between the two cherubim, then saw it start
To exit the Temple, yet hovering near,
Until over Mount Olivet it did soon disappear.

Under the Old Covenant ‘tis not again to be found,
For the Light of God’s Presence no more did abound;
God had withdrawn it and ‘twas not seen again
‘Til arrived “God’s due season” on Bethlehem’s plain.

Could this be the “aster” the Magi did see
As they waited and watched for the great King-to-be?
Was this the Great Light that guided them far,
Which men have mistakenly labelled a “Star”?

For no star could accomplish what this light had done,
For it guided those Magi so unfailingly on
That at last it did bring them to the place they did seek -
Where lay Baby Jesus, so tender and meek.

Emmanuel, “God with us”, as Isaiah foretold -
The Light of God’s presence we now do behold
In JESUS, God’s Son, His image expressed,
God in man’s form; by Him man is blessed.

And when, as transfigured, the LORD Jesus did stand
Before His disciples on the mountain so grand,
His Glory, kept hidden, shone forth as the sun,
And God’s voice from the cloud declared Him His Son.

And with mankind still that Glory doth dwell
In the form of God’s Spirit, the o’erflowing Well
Of the water of Life, God’s Breath of His Word,
Sent by Jesus to dwell in the saved of the Lord.

a. franklin staples

December 17, 1988

© 1988 by Allison F. Staples

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

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

One Day I'll Leave This Old Body

One day I’ll leave this old body, This earthen house of clay,
And rise up to be with Jesus, Who is my Hope and Stay.
This earthen shell I’ll leave behind, And those who come to mourn
Will see this house left vacant With earthly rags adorned.
They’ll come to gaze upon it; To remember times gone by,
To visit friends and family, To laugh and, yes, to cry—
But this one thing remember, If one of them is you,
That I’ve gone and left this body, As all of us must do,
And I’ll be waiting over yonder Where Jesus lives and reigns,
For ‘tis there I hope to meet you, Where we’ll never part again.

a. franklin staples, May 11, 2002

The Bones of the Church

The church can be seen as made up of bones
Like any other body,
But the bones that make it up, my friend,
Fit together rather oddly.

Now, first we have the “Wish Bones,”
Those bright and shining stars
Who just sit around and wish that things
Were different than they are.

Then there are the “Jaw Bones,”
Those who are always talking
About whatever it is that’s going on,
Be it mundane or shocking.

They continue to “jaw” about this and that,
And do more harm than good;
They grumble, gossip and complain
Instead of living as they should.

Let’s not forget the “Tail Bones,”
Those who are always late;
Late for worship, late for meetings,
Always making others wait.

Those “Tail Bones” take too literally
The words of Jesus Christ, our Lord,
About the first being last and the last being first,
In the pages of God’s Word.


Those “Tail Bones” cannot take a stand
Or Come to a decision;
They want always to “wait upon the Lord,”
Ignoring the Great Commission.

And, oh yes, there are the “Funny Bones,”
Those so easily offended
At some “terrible” thing the preacher said
At the last service they attended.

“If that’s the way he’s going to preach,
I won’t be going back!,”
Those thin-skinned souls are oft heard to say,
And the preacher takes the flak.

But, Thank God there are the “Backbones,”
Those who do the work,
Who teach the classes, call on the sick;
Their duties they don’t shirk.

And if the preacher needs a hand,
Or maybe even two,
The “Back Bones” will be right there to help
When there is work to do.

Yes, let’s thank God for the “Back Bones;”
They’re the pillars of the church
Who take a stand upon God’s Word
And pitch in to do His Work.

    a. franklin staples

    © 1991 by A. Franklin Staples

On Complaining

 
We're mostly a bunch of complainers;
Too often we're not satisfied
With the state of the weather, in general,
Or the passage of time, or the tide.
For if it isn't too hot, why then it's too cold;
It's either too wet or too dry;
Time's going too fast or it's going too slow;
The water's too low or too high.
The music's too loud or else it's too soft;
The singer can't carry a tune;
The preacher's long-winded or his sermon's too short;
It's either too late or too soon.
There's either too much or there's not enough,
Whether it's snow, food, coffee, or tea;
The pillow's too hard or else it's too soft;
Nothing's ever as good as can be.
Yes, to most of us nothing is perfect:
We can always find room for complaint,
But if someone points out our shortcomings,
We can answer right up, "I'm no saint!"
But that's what you are, my dear brother,
If the blood of God's Son you have claimed —
A saint who will one day be perfect,
With nothing wherewith to be blamed.
So why complain now, brother, sister,
About everything under the sun?
Thank God for each day you are given
And live it for Jesus, the Son.
Give thanks for each situation!
Praise God for the good and the bad,
For Jesus Christ died to save you. —
He's the dearest Friend you ever had.
Don't complain about things and don't grumble.
It's advice that I need to take, too,
For God's perfect Son shed His precious blood
That we might be perfected all through.
And someday He'll make all things perfect,
And no one will ever complain
About things over yonder in glory
Where with Him forever we'll reign.

    a. franklin staples
June 26, 1990

                 Copyright © 1990
    by
    A. Franklin Staples