WHAT BECAME OF THE MAN WHO CARRIED THE CROSS?
Have you thought of the man who carried the cross
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill;
Just a face in the crowd who had gathered to watch
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
He was pressed into service right there on the spot
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill
To be known as the man who carried the cross
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill.
What was he thinking as beside Jesus he trod
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Did he know the man beside him was the true Son of God
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Was he sickened by the sight and the smell of the blood
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Did any words pass between them as the way they did plod
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
What became of the man who carried the cross
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Did he know he was a sinner, helpless and lost,
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Did he know Jesus would die to pay sin’s dreadful cost,
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Were his senses in turmoil , troubled and tossed,
As they walked my Lord up Calvary’s Hill?
Was he there in Jerusalem that year at Pentecost
After walking my Lord up Calvary’s hill,
When Peter preached Christ crucified for those who are lost,
For he’d walked with my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
Did he come to lay his sins at the foot of the cross,
He who’d walked with my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
What became of the man who had carried the cross
And walked with my Lord up Calvary’s hill?
a. franklin staples
March 29, 1999
Copyright © 1999 by A. Franklin Staples
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Just a Pitiful Sinner Destined for Hell
The life he had lived was of sin filled with shame;
He had cursed and blasphemed in God’s Holy Name;
Of drugs and of alcohol he’d had more than his share,
And the load that he carried was just too heavy to bear.
He had once had a family, a sweet wife and three sons —
Those once he held dear, but they, too, were now gone,
Driven out by his rages and drunken tirades,
By the beatings he’d given and the threats he had made.
Their leaving he had taken as a matter of course,
With no thought of repentance or the slightest remorse.
The business he once owned had then gone “belly up”
So he turned to the needle and the bottle and cup;
His money he spent on parties and wine,
And it, too, was soon gone, So he joined the bread line.
A poor wretch of a man, living only for self,
He was just a pitiful sinner Destined for hell.
Then one night, as he staggered, bleary-eyed, down a street,
With his clothing in tatters and worn-out shoes on his feet,
He passed by a little church with its door open wide,
And he stopped just a moment, peered intently inside,
Saw the man at the front with uplifted hands,
Then he heard someone singing, “Just As I Am!”
Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee; O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
“Just as I am,” he thought, “Would God accept me?”
“Oh, that from this burden I could forever be free.”
Then he walked up the steps to that meeting house door,
And knelt just inside on the meeting house floor.
He lifted his hands, prayed the poor sinner’s prayer,
And Jesus’ blood saved him, right then and right there,
Washed all of his sin away, cleaned out all its dross,
As that small congregation sang “Down at the Cross.”
Down at the cross Where my Saviour died; Down where for cleansing from sin I cried;
There to my heart was the blood applied. Glory to His Name!
Glory to His Name! Glory to His Name! There to my heart was the blood applied;
Glory to His Name!
A new man in Christ Jesus, he walked down that aisle
To be met at the altar by the preacher, who smiled,
And said, “Welcome, my Brother, we’re so glad you have come.
The Father has been waiting for you to come home.”
He knelt at that altar as tears streamed down his face,
While that small congregation sang “Amazing Grace.”
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.
And how about you, my friend? Are you still in your sin?
Do you know Jesus died that you might be clean?
Would you be washed clean in the blood of God’s Lamb?
Then take Him as your Saviour, singing “Just As I Am.”
Just as I am and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot;
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, Though tossed about With many a heartache, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, poor wretched, blind, Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
a. franklin staples
© Copyright 1999 by A. Franklin Staples
The life he had lived was of sin filled with shame;
He had cursed and blasphemed in God’s Holy Name;
Of drugs and of alcohol he’d had more than his share,
And the load that he carried was just too heavy to bear.
He had once had a family, a sweet wife and three sons —
Those once he held dear, but they, too, were now gone,
Driven out by his rages and drunken tirades,
By the beatings he’d given and the threats he had made.
Their leaving he had taken as a matter of course,
With no thought of repentance or the slightest remorse.
The business he once owned had then gone “belly up”
So he turned to the needle and the bottle and cup;
His money he spent on parties and wine,
And it, too, was soon gone, So he joined the bread line.
A poor wretch of a man, living only for self,
He was just a pitiful sinner Destined for hell.
Then one night, as he staggered, bleary-eyed, down a street,
With his clothing in tatters and worn-out shoes on his feet,
He passed by a little church with its door open wide,
And he stopped just a moment, peered intently inside,
Saw the man at the front with uplifted hands,
Then he heard someone singing, “Just As I Am!”
Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee; O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
“Just as I am,” he thought, “Would God accept me?”
“Oh, that from this burden I could forever be free.”
Then he walked up the steps to that meeting house door,
And knelt just inside on the meeting house floor.
He lifted his hands, prayed the poor sinner’s prayer,
And Jesus’ blood saved him, right then and right there,
Washed all of his sin away, cleaned out all its dross,
As that small congregation sang “Down at the Cross.”
Down at the cross Where my Saviour died; Down where for cleansing from sin I cried;
There to my heart was the blood applied. Glory to His Name!
Glory to His Name! Glory to His Name! There to my heart was the blood applied;
Glory to His Name!
A new man in Christ Jesus, he walked down that aisle
To be met at the altar by the preacher, who smiled,
And said, “Welcome, my Brother, we’re so glad you have come.
The Father has been waiting for you to come home.”
He knelt at that altar as tears streamed down his face,
While that small congregation sang “Amazing Grace.”
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.
And how about you, my friend? Are you still in your sin?
Do you know Jesus died that you might be clean?
Would you be washed clean in the blood of God’s Lamb?
Then take Him as your Saviour, singing “Just As I Am.”
Just as I am and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot;
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, Though tossed about With many a heartache, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, poor wretched, blind, Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
a. franklin staples
© Copyright 1999 by A. Franklin Staples
Saturday, February 25, 2017
My Father’s Bibles
(Written as an introduction to the poem which follows which was first read at a Gospel Way concert on April 6, 1999.)
My father literally wore Bibles out. His Bibles were used so much and so often that it wasn’t long before the bindings got loose, pages began to get ragged around the edges, and pages even began to fall out. He would underline passages, write in the margins and on both fly leaves (front and back).
I don’t know how many Bible Dad wore out in his lifetime of almost seventy-five years, but I know it was certainly more than two or three.
Sometime in the late 1950's he bought his last Bible, the version that he had talked for several years of obtaining. It was a King James Version (he would never even think of using any other version) with Schofield References, bound in real leather. Over the years that he used that Bible, it, too, became worn, the bindings loosened and the pages became dog-eared. He used it right up until almost the last minute before he passed into eternity.
He had been to church that Sunday morning, January 30, 1977, just twenty-three days before what would have been his seventy-fifth birthday. He was on his way home, riding in the right front seat of my Aunt Bertie’s car, with his bible in his hand, when he took a massive stroke and died instantly. His Bible slipped from his lifeless fingers onto the floor of the car.
When choosing a text for his funeral , Rev. A. J. Burton asked if he could look through Dad’s Bible to find a favourite verse or verses. He took the Bible home with him, set it on its spine on his desk and let it fall open. It opened on the 90th Psalm.
I am privileged to have fallen heir to that Bible, with its loose bindings, dog-eared pages, marginal and fly leaf notes, and it’s underlined verses. In fact, I brought it with me tonight. I have used it off and on over the twenty-two years since Dad passed on, but I have Lately retired it from active service and placed it on the Bible shelf of my small office as a reminder of my Dad’s devotion to the Word of the Lord.
Now let me tell you a story in verse:
(Written as an introduction to the poem which follows which was first read at a Gospel Way concert on April 6, 1999.)
My father literally wore Bibles out. His Bibles were used so much and so often that it wasn’t long before the bindings got loose, pages began to get ragged around the edges, and pages even began to fall out. He would underline passages, write in the margins and on both fly leaves (front and back).
I don’t know how many Bible Dad wore out in his lifetime of almost seventy-five years, but I know it was certainly more than two or three.
Sometime in the late 1950's he bought his last Bible, the version that he had talked for several years of obtaining. It was a King James Version (he would never even think of using any other version) with Schofield References, bound in real leather. Over the years that he used that Bible, it, too, became worn, the bindings loosened and the pages became dog-eared. He used it right up until almost the last minute before he passed into eternity.
He had been to church that Sunday morning, January 30, 1977, just twenty-three days before what would have been his seventy-fifth birthday. He was on his way home, riding in the right front seat of my Aunt Bertie’s car, with his bible in his hand, when he took a massive stroke and died instantly. His Bible slipped from his lifeless fingers onto the floor of the car.
When choosing a text for his funeral , Rev. A. J. Burton asked if he could look through Dad’s Bible to find a favourite verse or verses. He took the Bible home with him, set it on its spine on his desk and let it fall open. It opened on the 90th Psalm.
I am privileged to have fallen heir to that Bible, with its loose bindings, dog-eared pages, marginal and fly leaf notes, and it’s underlined verses. In fact, I brought it with me tonight. I have used it off and on over the twenty-two years since Dad passed on, but I have Lately retired it from active service and placed it on the Bible shelf of my small office as a reminder of my Dad’s devotion to the Word of the Lord.
Now let me tell you a story in verse:
THE MAN WITH THE BATTERED BIBLE
The Bible he carried was well-worn, yes, aged,
With highlights and notations on about every page.
The cover was shabby, the pages dog-eared,
And some, perhaps many, were stained by his tears,
Tears that he shed for the souls of the lost,
Out on life’s wild seas, by the world’s tempest,
Or for some poor lost soul he had met on the street,
Who was begging for handouts, with nothing to eat,
Or for the widow next door, whose family didn’t care
Whether she lived or died. They just left her there.
He cried for the family with six children just down the street
Who could hardly afford shoes to cover their feet,
And he’d spent his last dollar at the grocery store
To give them a meal, and wished he’d has more.
Oft times, in the evening, he’d kneel down by his chair
And just talk with the Lord in intimate prayer;
He’d tell Him the burdens he had for the lost
And thank Him for Jesus, Who died on the cross.
He’d pray for the hungry and the sick and the poor
As he knelt by his chair on the sitting-room floor.
When he’d finish his talk and get up off his knees,
He’d take that battered old Bible down, and he’d read
About Jesus and His parables and the sick that He healed,
Or the wondrous insights to old John He revealed,
About David the shepherd boy who was born to be king,
Then he’d lift his eyes heavenward and prayerfully sing:
What a Friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege carry Every thing to God in prayer!
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood, From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure, Save from wrath and make me pure.
And each night, when at last he lay to rest on his bed,
He’d place that old Bible right next to his head.
It’s precepts he’d hidden long ago in his heart,
And he vowed he would never from those precepts depart
While I draw this fleeting breath, When my eyes shall close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown, and behold Thee on Thy Throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.
a. franklin staples
1994
Copyright © 1994 by A. Franklin Staples
Friday, February 17, 2017
WHEN WE GET TO THAT HOME OVER THERE
The day never comes in this earthly life
When we're free from its burdens and cares,
But someday, with Jesus, they all will be gone
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
In this life here below we have trouble and trials;
We're oft burdened down with life's cares,
But when we see Jesus there'll be gladness and joy
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
Here on earth we have problems, heartaches and sorrows —
We must take them to God's Throne in prayer;
But the day soon will come when they'll all be forgotten
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
a. franklin staples
December 3, 1995
I have lived on this old earth for going on to sixty years and I don't believe there has ever been a day of my adult life when there hasn't been a concern about something, whether minor or major, either about my work, my home, my wife and family, my church, my health or my financial situation or something else that had some bearing on my life. It seems we are always looking forward to a time when things will be somehow less stressful and our problesm will be diminished or disappear entirely. That is never going to happen as long as we live on this earth. Even though we trust in Him who has promised to bear all our burdens if we will but lay them on Him, those burdens are not going to disappear completely until we reach our heavenly abode. (I’m now going on 81 years and nothing has changed much.)
Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples
The day never comes in this earthly life
When we're free from its burdens and cares,
But someday, with Jesus, they all will be gone
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
In this life here below we have trouble and trials;
We're oft burdened down with life's cares,
But when we see Jesus there'll be gladness and joy
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
Here on earth we have problems, heartaches and sorrows —
We must take them to God's Throne in prayer;
But the day soon will come when they'll all be forgotten
When we get to that home over there.
When we get to that home over there,
We'll be free of all burdens and cares.
With Jesus we'll be in that land of the free
When we get to that home over there.
a. franklin staples
December 3, 1995
I have lived on this old earth for going on to sixty years and I don't believe there has ever been a day of my adult life when there hasn't been a concern about something, whether minor or major, either about my work, my home, my wife and family, my church, my health or my financial situation or something else that had some bearing on my life. It seems we are always looking forward to a time when things will be somehow less stressful and our problesm will be diminished or disappear entirely. That is never going to happen as long as we live on this earth. Even though we trust in Him who has promised to bear all our burdens if we will but lay them on Him, those burdens are not going to disappear completely until we reach our heavenly abode. (I’m now going on 81 years and nothing has changed much.)
Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples
THROUGH THESE WEAK, IMPERFECT VESSELS
Through these weak, imperfect vessels
Has chosen God to work,
For 'tis through this frail clay vessel
That He builds His glorious church;
To such men He gives commission
To preach and teach His Word
That those whom He has chosen
May be called unto the Lord.
Yes, God works, has worked, through mortal men,
Imperfect though they be,
To call out those He's chosen
To receive salvation free.
Through these weak, imperfect vessels
God chose His Word to preach;
To them He gives instructions
As to what they are to teach.
Just mortal men, like you and me,
But imbued with the Spirit's power,
They take their stand upon that Rock,
That strong and mighty tower
That is the one and only Saviour,
He who paid sin's awful price,
Our one and only Potentate,
The God-man, Jesus Christ.
Yes, through these weak, imperfect vessels
Has chosen God to work;
Those called by Him from the depths of sin
Into His glorious church —
That Church whose head is the Lord Himself
And not some mortal man,
Made up of the saints that God has called
According to His plan.
a. franklin staples
November 12, 1995
Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples
Through these weak, imperfect vessels
Has chosen God to work,
For 'tis through this frail clay vessel
That He builds His glorious church;
To such men He gives commission
To preach and teach His Word
That those whom He has chosen
May be called unto the Lord.
Yes, God works, has worked, through mortal men,
Imperfect though they be,
To call out those He's chosen
To receive salvation free.
Through these weak, imperfect vessels
God chose His Word to preach;
To them He gives instructions
As to what they are to teach.
Just mortal men, like you and me,
But imbued with the Spirit's power,
They take their stand upon that Rock,
That strong and mighty tower
That is the one and only Saviour,
He who paid sin's awful price,
Our one and only Potentate,
The God-man, Jesus Christ.
Yes, through these weak, imperfect vessels
Has chosen God to work;
Those called by Him from the depths of sin
Into His glorious church —
That Church whose head is the Lord Himself
And not some mortal man,
Made up of the saints that God has called
According to His plan.
a. franklin staples
November 12, 1995
Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples
Thursday, February 16, 2017
LORD, I COME TO WATCH AND PRAY
Lord, I come to watch and pray,
To hear Thee speak to me today;
Help me to heed what Thou hast said
In Thy Holy Book that I have read.
Help me, Lord, to stand for Thee;
Open mine eyes, that I might see
The things Thou hast for me to do.
From day to day my strength renew.
Give me, dear Lord, the strength to stand,
Upheld, sustained by Thy all-powerful hand,
That I might give Thee the glory when I speak
And daily, Lord, Thy wisdom seek.
Yes, give me strength, Lord, to do what's best,
To meet the challenge and pass the test;
To resist the Adversary at every turn
And seek to Thy sovereign will discern.
a. franklin staples
April 10, 1993
Copyright © 1993 by A. Franklin Staples
Lord, I come to watch and pray,
To hear Thee speak to me today;
Help me to heed what Thou hast said
In Thy Holy Book that I have read.
Help me, Lord, to stand for Thee;
Open mine eyes, that I might see
The things Thou hast for me to do.
From day to day my strength renew.
Give me, dear Lord, the strength to stand,
Upheld, sustained by Thy all-powerful hand,
That I might give Thee the glory when I speak
And daily, Lord, Thy wisdom seek.
Yes, give me strength, Lord, to do what's best,
To meet the challenge and pass the test;
To resist the Adversary at every turn
And seek to Thy sovereign will discern.
a. franklin staples
April 10, 1993
Copyright © 1993 by A. Franklin Staples
THE ONE WHO MADE THE WORLDS
The One who made the worlds,
By Whom all things consist,
The great Creator, God, the LORD of hosts,
Gave up all His power
And laid aside His glory;
Became a man so He could die upon a cross.
Jesus Christ, the LORD of glory,
The Word of the beginning,
The mighty God, Jehovah, the great "I AM",
Became flesh, dwelt among us,
Without sin or spot or blemish;
Shed His own blood as God's own perfect Lamb.
None other could have done it;
No mere man could pay the price,
For all mankind bears the mark of Adam's sin.
Only He who came from heaven,
God Himself in human flesh,
Could pay the price and man's redemption win.
Let not one forget it,
As we come around the Table
To eat the bread and drink the cup of wine,
That the very God who made us
Died that we might live,
Shed His precious blood for your sin and for mine.
a. franklin staples
March 6, 1993
Copyright © 1993
by
A. Franklin Staples
The One who made the worlds,
By Whom all things consist,
The great Creator, God, the LORD of hosts,
Gave up all His power
And laid aside His glory;
Became a man so He could die upon a cross.
Jesus Christ, the LORD of glory,
The Word of the beginning,
The mighty God, Jehovah, the great "I AM",
Became flesh, dwelt among us,
Without sin or spot or blemish;
Shed His own blood as God's own perfect Lamb.
None other could have done it;
No mere man could pay the price,
For all mankind bears the mark of Adam's sin.
Only He who came from heaven,
God Himself in human flesh,
Could pay the price and man's redemption win.
Let not one forget it,
As we come around the Table
To eat the bread and drink the cup of wine,
That the very God who made us
Died that we might live,
Shed His precious blood for your sin and for mine.
a. franklin staples
March 6, 1993
Copyright © 1993
by
A. Franklin Staples
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