A Poem by Maureen Brown.
Welcome to the Ipswich Circuit of the Methodist Church of Great Britain
Poetry
Jesus was there, at the tableEating and drinking the same as theyThe man that was born in a stableDestined to be our saviour today The last meal eaten togetherBefore he was lifted upTo sit with his heavenly father forever So we should never have an empty cup His disciples in awe all watched himAs he raised…
If Jesus were to visit meHe would take me as I amBecause he knows me best of allAnd would simply shake my hand I would show him round the gardenThen offer him cake and teaWe’d chat about the changing worldAnd how it affects you and me I’d tell him about the hopes I haveThat children…
An open tombNo stone at the doorJust a clothLay on the floor The body had goneAn empty spaceWhere the son of godHad laid in this place Raised from the deadScars where he bledHis love still remainsIt always stays the same Jesus shows us the wayTo follow him every dayHowever long we liveOur sins he will…
A wooden crossOn a hillA man, a JewBetrayedHis pain lingers still The cross he draggedAs people staredHe is guiltyThey declared Outstretched armsNails cruellyDriven into palms A crown of thornsOn his headHe would sufferUntil he was dead. He died for usIn a worldOf unjustAnd mistrust He is our saviourA flame of lightForever and alwaysBurning bright Maureen…
To wake up in the morningand see a scarlet skythen hear the birds singingas from the nest they fly To gaze across green fieldswatching sheep and cattle grazehear sounds of lambs being bornfrom the first light of the morn To walk the ancient paths of oldthat men have walked beforedear England, may your countrysidebe in…
One small acorn fell to the groundLanding softly without a soundFrom that one acorn an Oaktree will growSpreading vast branches as on and on it will go Just as life itself evolves round and roundAll things nature will thrive and aboundIt will go on and on making changes on the wayNothing stays the same year…
A poem by Maureen Brown
David A man of water His thirst only quenched in valley streams A mossy taste that comforts his parched lips The dew on the grassy banks Saturating his Spirit in a living water And the wind that blows in those valleys green Speak to David so serenely Rhythms of wisdom dance in his heart That…
A poem by Maureen Brown