More on Time

I posted about Time yesterday and wanted to follow up with my fun little rhyme. 

Time

 

The clock is ticking-

There’s no time for nit-picking.

It’s here today but gone in a wink-

Faster than I can blink;

Seconds, minutes, hours, days,

A trail left behind, I blaze.

What I did in yesterday’s hours

Brought polluted or wholesome showers.

What I will get done tomorrow

May leave happy thoughts or sorrow.

The clock is ticking-

Away, life is chipping;

A time to do or undo,

A time for good deeds, many or few,

A time I have known, grown, or blown. 

Time is fleeting upon this earth 

With only moments to show my worth.

Tick-tock,

Tick-tock,

Goes the clock.

So, throughout my prime and gray-haired days,

In every time-graced phase,

Let me honor God with all of my praise

Until earth’s time shall cease to be no more

And I enter Heaven’s door.

 

Mary Crisp Jameson  1/20/2026 

 

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV

The Church

     What is a church?  Even though there are people who do more work in the church than others, I  believe the church is a body of believers working together with God as the Head.  In Ephesians 1:22-23 we find:  "And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church,  which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way."
     When I think of the church I have such fond memories of the small country church I attended when I was growing up.  Although most of the people I knew are no longer there, I remember this church as the basis for my salvation, and I love to sing the song we so often sang.        

        

Church in the Wildwood  

There's a church in the valley by the wildwood
No lovelier place in the dale
No spot is so dear to my childhood
As the little brown church in the vale

Chorus (Oh, come, come, come, come) Come to the church by the wildwood
Oh, come to the church in the dale
No spot is so dear to my childhood
As the little brown church in the dale

   

My poetry lyrics are as follows:               

THE CHURCH

 

There's a  church

beneath a shady birch;

A spot so dear, answering a worldly cry.

Oh, come to the church, sharing Jesus and why.

 

 

 Come and drink to your soul;

Find the Word to keep you whole.

Come, come! Sip the flavor;

Fill your cup with the love of the Savior.

 

 

Hear the call from your nearby church;

The place leading, guiding toward life's search;

A people committed, loving, caring, giving;

A people praying; forgiving.

Find peaceful rest in God's own place

Where, outside, waits a vulture in watchful space;

Inside sits, a sinner fallen from lofty ways

Seeking joy to follow his days.

 

 

Come and drink to your soul;

Find the Word to keep you whole.

Come, come! Sip the flavor;

Fill your cup with the love of the Savior.

 

 

Oh, come to the true and peaceful church;

Calming, rousing from a falling lurch;

Find it sowing seeds to sprout;

Beneath its shelter, sharing what life's about.

Oh, come to a lovely place;

Dwell in His grace.

Find the heart, with busy people,

Building a mission steeple.

A people - God's own,

Telling of His love, beginning to end, forever-shown. 

Oh, come, come, come to the melody sounds of the calling church,

Giving rest underneath its shady birch. 

                                                Mary Crisp Jameson

 

 

 

Inspirational Christian Poem

This comes a week after Mother's Day, but, as I rest underneath my "friendly shade," I think of my Mom and what she meant to me.  I often wish I could just pick up the phone and give her a call. but I know she is resting in God's embrace, and that means all the world to me.  The next best thing I can do is honor her with the following poem. 

In My Mother’s Eyes   

In my mother’s eyes I was a blessing to be unwrapped;

In my eyes she was the one who gave me life and helped me adapt.

 She is no longer with me these days,

But my mother left a special gift.

 She raised me to know Jesus and His mighty ways;

She taught me where to look when I need a lift.

My mother and I had special ties; 

In her eyes I was an extraordinary child.

That’s the way I am in God’s eyes,

For when I was born, I believe, He smiled.

In my mother's eyes I was the rose that held no thorn;

In my eyes she was the one I ought to adorn.

She watched over me through my growing phase.

I remember how she taught me right from wrong;

How she read and studied her Bible throughout her days;

  How it helped through trials to make her strong.

Although I tested her patience; she kept her calm.

That was my mom!

She never thought, “Why bother?”

My mother still loved me in her heart.

I share this same knowledge with my Heavenly Father;

He’s always willing to give me a fresh new start.

 In my mother’s eyes I was the one who stood apart; 

In my eyes she was a complicated work of art.

My mother is no longer with me this day.

When I miss and long to hear her voice,

I hear my Lord say, “Talk to me. I’m here to stay.”

Like Mom, He listens, gives hope and helps me rejoice.

 In my mother’s eyes she saw a child of Christ;

In my eyes I saw a mother’s sacrifice.

  She left me a legacy, a gift, to carry throughout my days. 

It didn’t come wrapped in fancy ribbons and bows;

It was the simply act of her worship and praise,

For the Lord who died for me. And then, He arose! 

                                                       Mary Crisp Jameson

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.” 

Proverbs 31:30

Bearing The Cross

CRUCIFIED

I kneel and weep before the cross

The tears are not for my loss

I had it all to gain

Because of my Lord who was slain.

I weep for the horrible crucifixion;

The pain, mockery, and affliction

Even Pilate asked, “Why? What evil hath He done?”

The centurion said, “Truly this Man was God’s own Son!”

Jesus healed and raised the dead

Yet had no place to lay His head.

He was mocked, spit upon, and beaten

Was denied and, by many, forgotten

Jesus, my Lord, was crucified

Taken to court and tried

Nails were driven through His wrists and feet

It was all for my sin and deceit

I weep for the torture He endured

He gave His life so mine would be secured.

I weep for the Lamb who was rejected and scorned

He bled as they placed upon his head, a braided crown of thorns

My Jesus -He suffered the cruelest pain

And yet, I constantly complain

He suffered and bled - for that I cry

As I continue to kneel and ask, “Why?”

The answer comes quickly through the peace and the quiet

“I love you my child with all my might

Do not cry and despair

For you, I gladly carried the cross I was born to bear.”

I have no further need to ask, “Why? What evil had He done?”

I believe He died for me and is God’s own  Son.

                                                                                          By  Mary Nell Jameson

                         “But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.       1 Corinthians 2:9