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All parts of this page are ©2007 By Charles L. Church

Poetry of Charles L. Church
I hope that it will neither look vain on the one hand, nor covetous on the other, but I wish to mention that these poems are copyrighted, Charles L. Church.

Index Table

My Saviour

The place where fixed my judge's aim
To send my justice down
So all could view my guilt and shame
With its demerit crowned,

There interposed One spotless Lamb
Between my curse and me
Where vengeance raised its Regal hand
To damn by just decree

The nails appointed for my hands
He willingly received
And satisfied God's just demands
And from its curse released.

There on my cross my curses fell
Upon my substitute
My sin He bore and thus my hell,
Thus to my charges mute.

The crimson shower raining down
Secured at once release
My judge acquitted, and unbound
My bonds and ordered peace

Then I from exile, called by grace,
With righteousness was crowned
There without veil to see the face
That faced my judge's frown.

And where creation once convulsed
To see its maker tried
To make the very sun repulse
From shining on the sight,

There I with equal shock and shame
Will look upon my sin
And sin's imperious tyrant tame
Each time I look again

Charles Church
3/18/2008

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Unthinkable

Unthinkable, Thrice Holy God
Whom Angels dread with fear
Should with our vilest sins be charged
To bring the outcast near

Unthinkable that rebels sworn
To crush your glorious crown
Should know your royal garment worn
Their righteous wedding gown

Unthinkable, that these should mute
Abide the shocking grace
My God, may such an awful truth
Propel my heart in praise.

And when I stand at last complete
Forever I'll begin
To join the millions at Your feet
And worship without sin.

Charles L. Church
2/29/08 (Found on my computer this am, with the first 1.5 verses written, and finished. Don't know when it was started.)

From Stones to Crowns (Jn 8)

The woman taken in her sin
Before the vengeful crowd
Was brought to Jesus to condemn
His mercy where she bowed

Thus Pharisees may oft confess
A faith more keen and brave
Than when by sin I fail some test
And doubt His will to save

But those who looked into His eye
And scanned the Saviour's face
There knew for sure, though with dry eyes,
He'd pardon her disgrace.

So to condemn Him thus they plot
Accusing Him of good.
Despising what they should have sought
And falling where she stood.

How sad that they her lot despised
Where mercy reigned so free!
To walk away from such a prize
As though with different need.

But leaving dark and each alone
Instead of joining her….
Where they could not first cast the stone
They doubly needy were.

Convicted such to leave with shame
But not such to believe.
Less wisdom than the fallen dame
There changed and full relieved.

They left their stones, but Saviour too
When welcome they would be
To worship Him with heart made new
In grateful love as she.

The Lord, He has a curious way
To bankrupt boasted wealth
When striving to make others pay
We cast stones at our self.

And he who held one not his wife
?Did he cast stones that day?
He had as much a special right
As you or I, or they.

And how had this man's wife then felt
When Jesus pardoned all ….
Could someone else's mercy melt
Her heart, to cure her gall?

Or did the freeness of God's grace
On one who hurt her so,
Resentment bring up in her face
To rather wish her woe?

Tis our own mercy we despise
Resenting other's grace
And publish thus a shameless lie
To share or steal His praise.

The mercy that by grace we know
Repudiated lies
When we deny it to our foes
And our own plea despise.

For if that grace can't save them well
Then I will face their fate.
Denying them, denies ourselves
The hope and prayer we make.

If you would kill your walk with God
Then here's the quickest way….
Despise the path you need to trod
When other's go that way.

Your sovereign God will sight restore
Through scenes of flood and fire
Until for grace you meet the floor
To worship and admire.

When justice calls our debt to God
Demanding all we pay
How will our souls then praise and laud
The grace that made a way!

But t'was not for our souls alone
That mercy's power was loosed
So let us love, receive, and own
The souls to whom it stoops.

From casting stones, to casting crowns
May each of us now go
And give the Lord His due renown
Who saved and loved us so.

And mercy so complete, so free
Its duty not ignore….
Its power all who ask will see,
So go and sin no more.

Charles L. Church
1/29/08, 4:30 PM

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The Triumph of a Cross

Of those who gazed upon the cross
And saw the Saviour die
I doubt that one perceived the loss
Was triumph from on high.

How transported, then, the scene
To watch with heaven's mind
To stand and view the glorious theme
Where gazed so many blind.

And now Lord in my crosses grant
That same transported view
To see the end the faithless can't
And bow to worship You.

The faithless prospect of the blind
That can't the vict'ry see
That first infection of the mind
By grace be far from me.

The penetrating faith that sees
The victory in my loss
Unlock life's mystery with its key
When I embrace His cross.

Surmount all hell my faith, and praise
Your Sovereign saving Lord
And strength sufficient for the day
Find in His faithful word.

Charles Church
(First 3 written in church Sun. 4/16/05, last three 4/20/06)

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The Breath of God

The dead know not that life goes on
Above the dust that folds them;
And so was I, as dead to God
As these, and couldn't behold Him.

When Jesus raised me from my death
Where life by grace o'retook me
When I received the Holy Breath
Of God, and hell forsook me.

His dying breath breathed life in me
Pressed from His breast by my desert,
Sped through sin's vast infinity
To reach me with its heavenly birth

I turned to see whence rose the wind
That gave me life where ashes lay
And there He stood and I in Him
With Christ in triumph o'er my grave.

I bowed my heart to worship Him
But there my passion altered,
Where sin reared up its fort within
Contesting where I faltered.

This, then, my battle till I die
To see that vision whence I sped,
Alive in me, and yet to fly
To Him who raised me from the dead.

Charles L. Church
2/17/06 (After hearing the song by Kathy Trocolli, "How Deep the Father's Love for Us")

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In Search of Words

What is that word that shows the worth
Of God's sweet mercy daily new?
The line that's perfect, full and terse
To hold in prose His glory due?

Man writes and writes but thus to prove
That he may never reach that goal
And yet his grateful love will muse
To try to fill that endless hole.

I mined the stars to find the word
That could do justice to Your grace
But empty I in task absurd
To try to thus Your picture trace

I Bankrupt here in deep arrears
To pay the debt your mercy called
Will speechless worship with my tears
And sigh out tender for it all.

A speechless mouth, a tear stained cheek
A heart amazed, astonished, dumb
Here is the sound that most He seeks
From those whose hearts His grace has strummed

I still astonished, still amazed
From passion's search within the mind
Emerge with naught, yet still ablaze
To seek what words may never find

Worship imprisoned in our words
Is like a man caught in a sketch,
Who like a wild and caged up bird
Still longs to leap the canvas yet.

For life alone can worship true
And yet we long with words to show
The fullness of the glory due
To God for such a life bestowed.

Then worship Him with words, sufficed
That we must ever try Him laud,
Though broken speechless sacrifice
Speaks loudest of our awesome God.

Charles L. Church
8/1/2005 (7th & 8th stanzas 8/11/05)

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Everything to Me

You're everything to me, I know
All else in life has turned to grief
And yet with You here in my woe
I have in these complete relief.

And all those lies wherein I placed
My happiness have blushed for shame.
Excuse themselves before Your face
And shrink before Your awful Name!

Oh how I wept aloud and shrill
Where dearest kin turned to assail,
There visions of God's glory filled
To waft me joyous through the vale.

Oh Awesome God, You're everything
To me, Your cross here loud resounds
To have my life, but death can bring,
When all is lost, then all is found.

I had to die to truly live
Lose all to find You're all I need
That taking all is how You give,
Who by hard shackles set me free.

All to You Lord I surrender
All my mistrusting clouds have cleared
No more to run from my defender,
Who's blessed me with the things I feared.

So take my children, take my wife
My house, my work, my wealth, my life
I have the Lord, I can't repine.
He's everything, and He is mine.

Though health, and wealth, and kindred flee
Immense my treasure, fixed and free;
Jesus is mine, and glory, He
Is ever everything to me.

Charles L. Church
7/11/05 (Conceived at church 7/10/05)

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No Place Like Home

Talking and laughing, with people connecting,
Driving home now in darkness I pensively ride
But at the last turn now I'm smitten reflecting
I'm alone in the place that I have to reside.

There's people at work, and there's people at play
There's people all over, everywhere, every day
But there's always one place that I'm ever alone,
When I pull in my drive, then there's "no place like home".

No one at the door, when I pull in with hope,
When I look all in vain for a face as I grope
No one in my bed when retiring at night
There the place of my rest turns to be but a fight.

And say what they will, there is not one who knows,
What the threshold is like standing soulless, and cold
That was once filled with laughter, where welcomes had shone,
Where a knife to the heart, says "there's no place like home".

Charles Church
2005 (I realize the meter on this is bad... I'm just going to leave it as is, for now, though.)

All of Me

All of me for you, for ever
My love poured out to idols never
Lead me, every yearning part
Through your wounds into Your heart
And home sweet home there I'll abide
My house of love, within Thy side,
Chained by love, by mercy tethered
All of me, for you, forever.

Charles Church
(Conceived while jogging at the Nature Center, 5/19 or 20/05, and perfected 5/21/05)

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Worship

Lord there's a passion in my heart
To worship you that boils and churns;
And yearning for a vent it starts
A longing which with trouble burns.

The cords that bind my tongue release,
Give way the dam and flood my praise,
Upon the bleeding Prince of Peace,
Till buried lie my groping days.

O'erwhelm my stupor, heavenly dove,
The prison doors break lose, and fly
My soul into the arms of love,
Forever there embraced abide.

There loosed from earthly chains and freed
From flesh by which the devil trained,
I'll see the Mighty Maker bleed
And there surrender without strain.

I'll sing! I'll dance! I'll shout aloud!
And never doubt or care shall blind,
For there I'll know I'm loved and bow
To Jesus, knowing He is mine.

Charles L. Church
12-19-04

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The Battle is The Lord's

Lord at the center of my heart
Is set your rightful throne
But daily there fresh battles start
Your sacred place to own.

Lord, often thus enthroned there
Your rivals ruled and reigned
Dethrone them I could not, despair
Is all I could attain

My strongest efforts fell like blows
Upon the ocean waves.
That fell despite like laughing foes
With none to rise and save.

I found I could not yield to law,
But dared not leave the fray
But finally I in gladness saw
To yield to You I may.

That though I could not win this fight
Nor yield to righteous code
My Saviour true I could invite
To scatter all my foes.

And while my arms were weak and frail
The onslaught to abate,
Yet His at once by power prevailed
My foes to captives make.

So let this lesson not depart
When so hard learned and taught
And ever trust with all my heart,
The one Who for me fought.

And let me now be still and trust
Forever to afford
Me peace and victory for thus,
The battle is the Lord's.

Charles L. Church
1/17/04

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A Life

Lord colors from my heart now gush
To paint a song of you
Sweet verbs and notes flow off my brush
An image worshipped true.

Yet were each grain of sand a song
To compass every land,
Each star a note to sing along
The anthems due from man

All nature gathered to the task
Thy worth in art to raise
T'would not a drop make in the flask
Of perfume due Thy praise.

But God ordains in men to raise
The Banner of His worth….
A LIFE….. a life in broken praise
Of love for its new birth.

A HEART once ruined far beyond
The reach of flesh to save
Now brought in trembling, seeks the bonds
Of covenant amazed.

A MIND once but the sink for all
The filth of sin and shame
By Jesus lifted from the fall
In power to spread His fame.

One Life, one heart, one mind unite
As one again to bow
Restored before the hand it spiked
And melted neath His brow.

Not words or deeds, with these a LIFE
A heart, a mind, a soul
An ever-burning sacrifice
To Him Who made it whole.

While like man's art his life conceals
Praise that should be revealed
Yet there the living worship breathes
With grateful walking zeal.

Though sin yet damp the saints desire
Their joy and love to take,
Yet mercy seeks and finds their fire
Burns brighter for its sake.

A purpose which e'en words can't wield
Nor song, or painters taste;
Else God had wisely there revealed
The glory of His grace.

But in the sinners grateful heart
A Treasure true is sown
A crop of glory to impart
To others yet unknown.

A LIFE, Lord, not abstracted, drear,
From earth and men and time
A LIFE, I yield, O Jesus hear…..
To You, take what is thine.

Charles L. Church
2/10/04
(Started 2/7/04 in Tulsa during the "Women's Show" at John Ichnose's house)

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Faith's Beacon
"Blessed are those who mourn" Mat.5

The glutted throng that crowd along
The broad way where they wend,
Will only wake when forced too late
To reckon with its end.

When those who mourned and lived in scorn
Were wafted by their tears
On through a place of endless grace
To joy for endless years.

Lord give them faith who run that race,
To hold the end in view….
Thus bear the trial of hope reviled;
The only path to You.

That beacon light pierce through this night
True compass in our pace;
Triumph, defeat, imposters bleak,
Seen through the eyes of faith.

And Jesus view, one Treasure true,
The sum of all desire….
Beholding Him, be shamed our whim
To deify a liar.

To triumph win o're self and sin
Not circumstance or pain
But 'gainst the pest, within our breast
Is vic'try not in vain.

Charles L. Church
12/14/03 6:00 AM

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Fallow Ground

When fallow lies thy fruitless heart
And winter climes pass o'er
When day is short, and long and dark
The night that chills the poor,

Remember that the land can't bear
Eternal fruitfulness
The paradox is strange but fair,
That life needs frequent death.

Just so thy soul, is ordered thus
By Great Jehovah's hand
By bringing winter's bitter gusts
To fruitful make His land.

For constant favor wanton makes
Yea e'en the best of saints
Don't think, therefore, God can mistake
When with a burden faint.

Go Rest, dear Christian, in the Lord
His righteousness is yours
The whole, not part, of thy abode
Within His mansion doors.

And though thy life seem all but gone
A chill so near thy heart
Prepared of old the spring as dawn
Will life again impart.

No vision ever plagued the mind
To vex the yeoman's rest,
That winter's cold would seasons bind
As hostage to its death.

The richest field in winter dies
Bleak, barren to the eye
So Christian don't despair of life
Rich promise to despise.

For spring will rise, ordained of old
Thy shivering breast embrace
And the same nerves that felt the cold
Shall feel His Love and Grace.

Prepared as dawn the season bright
To warm thy heart as spring
When God will raise salvation's light
And make thy heart to sing.

Charles L. Church
11-21-01

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Forever With Him

The gates of pearls we will enter
The streets of pure gold we will tread
No night to affright, nor a winter
To wither the staff of our bread

No fears, no evil, no sickness
But triumph untinctured, and joy
No sin in ourselves, nor yet sinners
To injure, oppress nor destroy.

But these not the tithe of our pleasures,
Though coveted by all the just,
Compared to that consummate treasure
Of Jesus forever with us.

All gold underfoot as our servant
Not worshiped or used to oppress
With Jesus forever conversant
Eye to eye with His loving largesse

All created things there prove a blessing
There kept in their place for our use;
While singular Jesus confessing,
As worthy our love of a truth.

Charles L. Church
11-18-03, 7:24 PM Tulsa, OK

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Loved Me

From the cross He saw me
And loved me from the start
And with His love to draw me
Loved peace into my heart

His tongue alone can speak it
To be by man perceived
And they that hear shall keep it,
A treasure true indeed.

Oh when He said He loved me
There from Golgotha's hill
True riches great above me
My only treasure still.

Above my power to spend it
O'erwhelmed by its supply
Exhaust, nor from me rend it
None can, not even I.

I can't outrun or lose it
Though fear has bid me try
I captive thus to use it
Make free with its supply

I thought I had offended
To run beyond its reach
But turned to find it wended
Each step my soul to keep.

Oh love of Jesus winning
I stand enthralled at Thee
Who loved from the beginning
And too eternity

Charles L. Church
12-8-01 4:30 AM

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A Maiden's Blessing
(Written for two twin sisters on their birthday)

God hold you close in His strong hand
To parry earth's dark deadly blows;
His Spirit pour, your heart command
To walk His ways around your foes.

God grant that you should never start
To doubt His power to vanquish guilt;
The blood esteemed thus in your heart
And He Who it for sinners spilt.

God grant you one to love your heart,
To hold you till the grave remove;
His children train to ne'er depart,
And follow him and faithful prove.

In summer blast, and burdened stress
Of life in its steep summit high;
God grant that Truth be deep impressed
To keep you from a fall when tried.

God bring you safe to heaven's shore
Where sorrows of the earth come not;
There free and safe forever more,
True heiress of bright Cannan's lot.

Charles Church
4-1-02

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My Father Died Today

My father died today,
Yet fatherless from youth,
I felt no tear, no sorrow drear….
Is simply nothing new.

Charles L. Church
7/25/04

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Woman

The only one not formed of dust,
Among all living things,
Was formed of Adam's rib and must
Return from whence she came.

Unto her native spring where tapped
From whence she once emerged
She flies into his arms enwrapped
Just like a homing bird.

From first to last each work there stood
And glorious perfect shone;
But one thing God yet deemed not good,
That man alone should be alone.

Lord send to me, if it could be,
That one in home born flight
That seeks the land and nest where she
Her primal rising sights.

There coalescing to a sum
More than its parts combined
As rivers join and flow as one
Till thus the ocean find.

Charles L. Church
1/1/05

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Wild Bull

A wild black bull caught in a net,
Dust flying, sweat and froth
He mingles in the air and yet
The beast thinks he'll get off.

At last exhausted yielding he,
Escape he'll no more try;
He's mastered, and is then set free.
But Jesus, When will I?

Charles Lucian Church

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What Though

What though my life decay betimes,
What though its greatest efforts failed,
What though that all I thought was mine
Washed all away in flood and gale;

What though all that I counted dear
Washed wasted up on foreign shore,
What though the one's I loved and cheered
Through life now leave me at grief's door;

What though dread poverty and shame
Attend my closing steps through time,
What though the one's who with me came
Must watch me waste in health's decline;

Yet insurmountable to hell,
Immune to sorrow's piercing thrust,
To disappointment's mortal chill,
The grace and truth on which I trust;

Let all else fail, let it all burn,
Let kin of dearest memory wound;
Let men forsake me all by turns,
Yet Jesus saved me from their doom….

A ransom paid and tendered full
Received, the debt now canceled lies
I go, despite the debts I owed,
To have all tears wiped from my eyes.

Wiped with the hand that bled for sin
That stung for what it thus performed
From everlasting love to wend
Its grace into a life reborn.

My God, Love me? No, could it be?
Love me? though sinner I remain?
Can any heart behold or see
A thing so large, to Grace contain?

Flee on ye shadows of the night,
The rise of Grace defies thy realm,
Sets comfort sweet before my sight,
A prospect woe can't overwhelm

And so I look upon my grief
Here with the piercing eye of faith,
And to that masquerading thief
Present the shield of reigning Grace.

Take what ye can, ye fine imposture,
Do what ye will to saints bear down;
Like their faith your rage will foster
The truth it thought by these to drown.

In Darkest night, there shines the star
All but the brighter for its sake,
Just so while sorrows break the heart,
They trim the lamp of hope and faith.

When will the devil ever learn
His threshing saints' an empty boast?
He winnows out his own to burn,
And sanctifies God's remnant host.

And so we bow, O Lord to Thee
In perfect love and grace confide;
Tis well for us thy wise decrees
Rule over us, and all besides.

Charles L. Church
Jan. 2001

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The Untold Story

There's a story untold that each soul gets to write,
But no fiction this tale, for its written with life.
Not our past but our future not yet put in print,
By our deeds scribbled out in this life's fading stint.

Many lines in the tale are not ours there to pen;
There our God shall ordain what is pleasing to Him.
But the lines that mean most both to Him and to us,
Is the "now" that we live before going to dust.

Lift up then your pen, and write bold as you would,
And risk with a daring as faith says you should;
For soon comes the ending, where lines all shall cease,
And the book then reviewed in its final release.

By Charles L. Church
12-18-04

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The Reign of Grace

The way God's law had disallowed
With guilt and fear my soul had bowed;
Implacable foreboding clouds
For war drew on my heart.
Forlorn I there relinquished hope,
There shut up to the righteous stroke;
From Moses' bow the arrow broke
And flew true to its mark

Astonished I, when interposed,
Into the path of vengeance posed,
A man of Grace to me disposed
My peril to avert.
He drank the cup that vengeance drew
From wells that pardon never knew;
His favor shone all round and through
My every cell and part.

What could it mean, this dying frame,
Devouring death when raised again
To raise my love's eternal flame
Where lay my death deceased?
A love that freed, and yet enthralled;
Amazed, and yet it answered all
That ever man could wish, and called
Me there to grateful feast.

No awkwardness in His embrace;
Possessed there of His sovereign Grace,
The love that shone upon His face
Bid all my fears depart.
My guilt, with all your shame and pale
Where did ye take your dreadful tale?
Ye with my Lord have died, yet failed
Like Him from death to start.

I'd promise to ne'er leave this place,
But I could yet betray that face;
Grace brought me here, and only Grace
Shall stay my wandering heart.
Thy Grace the dawn of mercy broke,
Thy Grace, the call from death, awoke;
Grace leads through life's perplexing trope,
To end, as from the start.

Charles L. Church 6/1/01

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My Lass of Spring

A lass as fair as Spring at morn
Her sparkling eyes as light on dew
My house her charms would bright adorn
And at its hearth sweet petals strew

Our bairns round gathered bright and fleet,
Ancestral fame behind their brow,
The highlands wait their passioned feet
And call them from my heart e'en now…..

Should that fair dream, arising not
Within my fair one's heart to sing,
And for another's favor bought
Be led where longs my heart to bring,

I'd haste me to the clouds to dwell
And shower springtime rains by tears
Thus water their ancestral dell
Forever past their dying years.

Charles L. Church
3/13/04
(This poem needs some explanation! It was written after reading some Robbie Burns poems at the Celtic Society Booth at the St. Patrick Day's parade where I was conducting business.I thought I would try to write a poem like Robbie Burns, and this was the result. I like it! And I'm mostly Scot! lol I was going to give it to the Celtic Society people, but couldn't finish it in time, so finished 3/14/04)

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The Homeless Home

Like as a furnace has no guest,
Forbidding all, its grievous roar;
My home thus stoked with emptiness
My lonely heart drives from its door.

Unwelcome where sweet hope should bide,
An alien on my native soil;
A shelter with a storm inside,
A breach defying every toil.

If stranded on a desert isle
T'would be less grief to be alone;
A hermit midst a sea of smiles,
Then homeless I thus wafted home.

The public haunts, the shores, the stores
All teem with couples, families, friends;
A ghost unseen, unheard, ignored,
I haunt them as they groping wend.

Torn from my breast, cast to the street,
Burnt by the sun, crushed by the wheel,
For ravens thus a tender feast,
My heart, watched by its empty shell.

Glides glibly o'er that carnage worse
Than that which dart or sword has slain;
The traffic of a paired-up earth
Upon the lonely heart of pain.

Upon the carcass of my soul
My loneliness thus morbid dines;
Yet unconsumed, forever full,
And drunken he, upon my wine.

Charles L. Church
6/29/03

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Pain & Faith

Were sorrows weighed in cups or parts,
Its billows gauged for pow'r and strength
Its surge within the lonely heart
Be reckoned up by width and length

Its sum would fill the vaulted sky
And spread beyond the furthest star
It's total tallied only by
The broken hearts where ere they are.

But in God's valley of our woe
Are fruitful fields of vast increase
And there the rivers ever flow
Of consolation's hope and peace.

God wounds, He heals, His timing true
His purpose good, gladly perceived
By every suff'ring saint endued
With faith to praise e're its relief

And all that ends well's well indeed
Eternal justice will not lie
None there will blame Him where they feed
On manna from their Lord on high.

Charles L. Church
9/2/04
(Wrote the first 2 stanzas, for the most part 7/31/03, then found it today, and finished)

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Roses

True love is like a rose,
It fades and soon grows old;
But like a rose again,
In Spring new blossoms send…..
Seek not the everlasting bloom,
But warm the stock whence these are hewn.

Charles L. Church
7/31/03

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My Tears

I ought not thus to muse,
But oft my tears and cries
Seem far beyond your vast review,
And hidden from your eyes.

My pain like vacant space
Goes on forever more,
And tempted I to think Your grace
Has turned and closed the door.

Then turned my heart, to view
Neath Calvary's blackened skies,
Where dread my curse fell down on You…..
My tears were in Your eyes.

Then spake He from that cross,
My erring heart to free;
To set me safe upon the rock
Of gospel liberty.

"Your tears were in my eyes
When hell was your desert,
When truth your heart in rage despised,
And trampled on its worth.

Your tears poured from my eyes,
From heaven's prize above,
To quench the soul that yet despised
My purposes of love.

When you were yet unformed,
Your guilt I owned and cleared;
When gore streamed from your thorns,
Through eyes filled with your tears.

My tears when for you cursed
Broke heaven's bonds apart,
My Father's justice reimbursed
Your evils to My heart.

And can that eye be blind
That quenched with burning tears
That thirst with blood and brine
That burned with sin's arrears?

Transversed the face now gory
My tears of grief impart
The sinners pass to glory
Next bottled in his heart.

And shall you fail to gain
The peace and joy you sought,
When shamed for my sweet saving Name,
Content you chose my lot?

Yet suffer, child of God
A little longer still,
Till He who blazed the trail of blood
You with His glory fills."

In every trial my Saviour,
Not to forget again,
Let me recall thy favor,
And what paid for my sin.

My riches not forgetting,
Surpassing earth's dark hour,
To quiet all my fretting.
And filling me with power.

Our testimony's lesson
Of Jesus and His blood;
Our answer to oppression,
And guilt's accusing flood.

The mingled blood and tears
Reach each and every part,
And trickle down my portion dear,
Into my grateful heart.

Charles L. Church

11/28/04, Started sometime in the fall of 2003

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How Long?

How long, Lord, till my patience fail?
How long till this wild flesh gives way?
This heart of error prove how frail
The nerve of man to sin betray?

How long, Lord, till my patience fail?
Till darts the raging flame of sin,
To burn resistance' thread, its gale,
And I fall with the fatal singe?

How long, Lord, till my patience fail?
How long till dark injustice sway
My heart of faith to jump the rail,
And think it vain to watch and pray?

So close these woes all leer at hand,
Within a maze of foe-lined paths;
I have no faith that I can stand!
Lord Save Me, as you ever have.

Charles L. Church
7/16/03

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Older Poems

Comfort
"Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in the darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in the closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops."
Luke 12:3

From the house tops through the skies,
Peals the secret deeds of men;
The trusted hiding place now flies,
Before the naked shame of sin.

Every word in secret spoken,
The malice shame refused to vent;
False motives and their lying tokens,
Stark naked stand before God's bench.

Let men here give heed and fear,
For there a faithful judgment sits;
The comfort now of those besmeared,
The terror then of hypocrites.

Charles L. Church
2-18-90

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Dagon's Fall
(ISam.4)

Once Israel was vexed
Sore with Philistia's sword
But will not on his sins reflect,
So smitten by the Lord.

Why are we smitten so?
They ask into the air;
But off with sword and ark they go
To conquer with the pair.

If God won't with us go,
We'd put Him in a box,
And hasten at our will, e'en though
His favour we have lost.

Thus their presumptuous rage
Does tax them of their faith,
That might have heaven's help engaged
If they did rather wait.

But now the ark they take
The slaughter to repeat,
Thus did they underestimate
The pow'r of unbelief.

But Christian never say
Tis Ichabod with us,
For better hands the ark shall stay
E'en when it seemeth thus.

For God's Almighty hand
Is never shortened to
Make Dagon fall in any land
And truth there hold to view.

For when thus brought before
The image of the true
The idle hands and head once more
Their native posture shew.

The arms that could not save
Are severed from the stump
The head that could not promise lave
Lies with them with a thump.

Thus Dagon does confess
To God the glory due;
Thus turns where e'er Christ's glory rests
The false into the true.

Oh may my heart possess
This testimony true,
That all mine idols so confess
And mercy bootless sue.

May every one fall down
Before Thee broken lie
Left there to grovel on the ground
Until they wholly die.

And let not Israel faint
When sore rebuked of Thee
But on Thee let him humbly wait
From Philistines to free.

Oh, let him never haste,
As though his will could find
A better end, a better fate
A better way than Thine!

And yet a thousand deaths
In this we're called to die;
The virtue of the cross invest
Our hearts with its supply.

Oh may we stop our ears
To sin's most bitter cries,
But slay them in their briny tears
That bid thee spare and die.

And could I find the Lord?
And might mine idols cease?
To lie with Dagon lame before
Thine awful mercy seat?

Oh may the glorious view
Of God in Jesus Christ
Fetch my first love's devotion true,
From whence it was enticed.

Oh could it really be?
That I could find the Lord
Again so sweet and near to me
As when He first restored?

Oh Christ I surely am
A beggar before Thee
I bring no money in my hand,
But beg, Oh let it be!

And so with life restored
This precious pearl may I
Hence never trade with ever more
Lest lost it stay, I die.

Oh ark of God return!
The course of tri'l fulfill;
And may Thy church hence never spurn
Again to wait Thy will.

Thus may the heathen know
Thy truth is not of men;
Else we'd destroyed it long ago
If thus it did depend.

But God, above our views,
Doth magnify His Name;
What e'er the saints or heathen do
His purpose He maintains.

To honour faith alone
Presumption so reply;
To chastise, and yet save His own
And idols all defy.

Charles L. Church
8-15-91

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Unleashed

Unleash the brutal cur, he cried
Unleash the mauling pest!
Unleash his lusts to conquer pride,
To tame self-righteousness.

Gnash him, maul him, gore thy pate!
Yea, Though I know him mine.
Self-righteousness there rides in state,
He thus to Grace grew blind.

His sorrows shall increase amain
Their depth could n'er be told.
But when I make him whole again,
For Grace he'll praise me bold.

Profound physician, thus to win
His faith, by trials worn old.
To make men holy by their sin;
And warm them with the cold!

Charles L. Church
9-11-95

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