Posts Tagged ‘Poem’

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“WE’RE ALL AUSTRALIANS NOW” 

In 1915 Banjo Paterson wrote, as an open letter to the troops, a poem he titled “We’re All Australians Now”. In 54-55 A.D. the Apostle, Paul wrote an open letter to Christians called 1 Corinthians. I have taken some of the verses from Chapter 12-13 and made them into a poem entitled “We’re All One Body Now” as an addition to Banjo Patterson’s poem, “We’re All Australians Now”.

Australia takes her pen in hand

To write a line to you,

To let you fellows understand

How proud we are of you.

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From shearing shed and cattle run,

From Broome to Hobson’s Bay,

Each native-born Australian son

Stands straighter up today.

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The swagman from the bush has come

From far-out Queensland runs,

He’s fighting side by side with some

Tasmanian farmer’s sons

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The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar

To grimly stand the test,

Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,

With miners from the west.

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The old state jealousies of yore

Are dead as Pharaoh’s sow,

We’re not State children anymore —

We’re all Australians now!

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Our six-starred flag that used to fly

Half-shyly to the breeze,

Unknown where older nations ply

Their trade on foreign seas,

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Flies out to meet the morning blue

With Vict’ry at the prow;

For that’s the flag the Sydney flew,

The wide seas know it now!

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The mettle that a race can show

Is proved with shot and steel,

And now we know what nations know

And feel what nations feel.

 

The honored graves beneath the crest

Of GabaTepe hill

May hold our bravest and our best,

But we have brave men still.

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With all our petty quarrels done,

Dissensions overthrown,

We have, through what you boys have done,

A history of our own.

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Our old world diff’rences are dead,

Like weeds beneath the plow,

From many countries, foreign-bred,

They’re all Australians now!

 

So now we’ll toast the Third Brigade

That led Australia’s van,

For never shall their glory fade

In minds Australian.

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Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,

Till right and justice reign.

Fight on, fight on, till Victory

Shall send you home again.

 

And with Australia’s flag shall fly

A spray of wattle-bough

To symbolize our unity —

We’re all Australians now.

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WE’RE ALL ONE BODY NOW

© Ross Cochrane

In 54-55 A.D. Apostle, Paul wrote an open letter to Christians called 1 Corinthians. I have taken some of the verses from Chapter 12-13 and made them into a poem entitled “We’re All One Body Now” as an addition to Banjo Patterson’s poem, “We’re All Australians Now”.

The Bible takes it further

When faith is in our hearts

It says we are one body,

With many different parts

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Some are Jews, some Gentiles,

Some are slaves, some free

Baptised into one body,

No longer “I”, but “we”

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If the foot says to the hand

I am not at all like you

It is no less of the body

Diff’rent roles and jobs to do

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If an ear says to the eye

I don’t look the same as you

It’s still part of the body

Diff’rent purpose, just as true

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And we all need one another

And united we are led

Each with dignity and honor

By Christ, the living head

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When one suffers all will suffer

When honored all are pleased

All of us together

If in Christ we have believed

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Some are gifted teachers

And some have gifts to heal

Some are leaders, some are preachers,

Together strong as steel,

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Not all can teach or heal or lead

But each one has a place

And all can share the gift of love

And all can have God’s grace

 

If I could speak all languages

Of earth and those above

I’d only be a noisy gong

Without the gift of love

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And if I had the strongest faith

To move a mountain to the sea

But didn’t have the gift of love

How useless that would be

 

Love is patient, love is kind

Is not jealous, and does not boast

Love is never proud or rude

Won’t selfishly demand the most

 

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And love is not bad-tempered

Does not rejoice with things unjust

keeps no record when it’s wronged

But celebrates with truth and trust

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Three things last forever

Three things from above

Love combines with faith and hope

But the greatest gift is love

 

Love bids the petty quarrels gone,

Like weeds beneath the plow,

And through what Christ alone has done,

We’re all one body now.

Christ

 

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THE HANDS OF GRACE

The world is changed by the HANDS of the Lord,

Which reach out from the handbook of ages,

Where Hands of His grace have planned and penned the stages

For undeserving hands in need of life restored,

The hand-wrought work of God; unearned reward,

Handpicked, and free at last from sins cruel wages.

Yet mishandled grace has smudged most its pages.

 

THE HANDS OF MAN 

So God’s pure hands now hold a two-edged sword,

While sinful, errant hands hold nought but shame,

In need of His abiding, guiding hand.

With things so out of hand, we must share blame.

We take the law into our hands and stand

Doomed, death’s wages play our hand a losing game,

As hands rebel against His Holy Name

 

THE HANDS OF GOD

Did God throw up His hands at my offence?

Or wash His hands of me until I die?

Or did He force His hand upon me to comply?

In Satan’s hands, my life will not make sense,

God acts with heavy hand and moral sense.

On one hand, He condemns with just resolve.

On the other hand, His love wants to absolve

 

THE HANDS OF SALVATION

I forced God’s hand to judge me. No defence.

The hands of Jesus have for me made room.

Those hands that flung the stars and worlds in space

Became the tiny hands in Mary’s womb.

Hands-on hands, rough and calloused found their place.

Soon nail pierced hands would rise up from the tomb

Those Hands which long to craft my life in grace.

 

His gentle hands restore sight with one touch,

Hands that heal the wounds and scars we bear,

Hands that soften hardened hearts heal with loving care,  

Those hands that feed five thousand offer much,

Servant hands that wash disciple’s feet. Such

Loving hands bless children with a prayer.

His hands broke bread and gave us wine to share,

Hands that wrenched the victory from the devils clutch.

 

Yet Judas would such blameless hands betray

And hand Him up to hands of sinful men,

His hands abandoned, as we turned away.

Pilot would such faultless hands condemn.

He tried to wash his hands of guilt that day,

And blood is also on our hands as it was then.

 

The crowd forced Pilot’s hand to crucify.

The hands of Jesus bore His Cross and our travails.

And into open hands, we drove those cruel nails.

He knew firsthand that He would have to die,

Sin handled, “It is finished” was His cry.

Into His Father’s hands, His spirit sails,

And though His hands are still, His love prevails.  

 

Salvation, paid in full, His hands supply,

He won hands down the victory over death,

And on the day I handed Him my sin,

He handed me forgiveness, peace within.

My hands received new life from Spirit breath.

 

So touch His nail scarred hands, be born again,

Those hands that offer love of unplumbed depth.

He takes your hand, the journey can begin.

 

THE HANDS OF FAITH

The hands of faith are my hands reaching out,

And Jesus is on hand to hear my prayer.

He wants all hands on board, He’s just and fair.

He waits for hands of faith that will not doubt,

Clean hands and hearts of those who are devout.

For faith is not a ‘hand-me-down’ we wear,

Not second hand but born from choice and prayer.

We take hands off, He turns our life about,

 

The clock hands say the day is almost spent.

Salvation is at hand, the time is near.

Faith takes the hand of God with full intent,

Surrendered hands and hearts and ears to hear.

So with clean hands and heart make the ascent

In His eternal hands, there is no fear.

 

THE HANDS OF JESUS

Fingers that flung worlds and stars in space

Became the tiny fingers formed in Mary’s womb,

Then craftsman’s hands, all calloused, shaping wood and stone,

Hands to feed five thousand, and defy the storm,

Hands that seek God’s will to make our hearts His throne.

Hands betrayed, abandoned, lashed and bound,

Forsaken hands, abused and battered, have borne

The sinners price in full. Yes, He alone

Reached out His hands to us, and we are found

And known

So today, as we pray, could you open your hands in front of you and open your heart to Him.

Dear Lord Jesus, I admit to You that I have sin on my hands, and I ask for Your forgiveness, for clean hands and a new start. I believe that when Your hands were nailed to the Cross You died for my sins and rose from the dead.

I hand over my life to You and invite You to come into my heart and life.

Take my hand of faith because I want to trust and follow You as my Lord and Saviour.

I accept the gift of eternal life that you hand to me,

I pray this prayer knowing that now I am in Your hands. Thankyou for welcoming me into Your family.   

In Jesus Name,

Amen.

If you prayed that prayer and meant it, then Jesus will give You a hand in living life to the full, as God intended. And please e-mail me if I can help you live your life for Him.

Pastor Ross

 

LUKE 2:9 – MARY DID YOU KNOW? Poem

PIETA BY MICHELANGELO

PIETA BY MICHELANGELO

Mary, did you know? – the poem © by Ross Cochrane

Had Mary known the pain that He would bear
When in her arms this baby Jesus lay,
Would she have wanted Him to stay
to face a Cross, and give His very life?
Had Mary known the ugliness of strife
would she have held tiny hands tighter still
while thinking of them nail pierced on deaths hill?

Had Mary known that in this manger lay
the One whose head would lay within a tomb,
would she have gasped each time she came to pray
and sung with tears a lullaby each night
And mourned the seed that issued from her womb?

No! Mary would have only known the joy
Of heavens love within a baby boy.

And if we knew of God’s elusive plan
With eyes to see the pain that we would bear,
Would we have tried to run from grace and prayer
instead of face the cross He bids us take?
Without sufficient strength our pride to break
would we avoid the shaping hands of God,
the disciplines that issue from His rod?

Would we receive the testing desert sun
along with times of joy and hope and light?
Or shape a “painless” destiny and run
with such swift feet away from heaven’s tears
and any preparation for the fight?

No! From the future He has spared us much
That we might know His patient, perfect touch.