Jesus! the Name High over All

I just remembered that I had quoted the last two verses of this marvelous Wesley hymn at my ordination.
Great reminder:

Jesus! the name high over all,
in hell or earth or sky;
angels and mortals prostrate fall,
and devils fear and fly.

Jesus! the name to sinners dear,
the name to sinners given;
it scatters all their guilty fear,
it turns their hell to heaven.

O that the world might taste and see
the riches of his grace!
The arms of love that compass me
would all the world embrace.

Thee I shall constantly proclaim,
though earth and hell oppose;
bold to confess thy glorious name
before a world of foes.

His only righteousness I show,
his saving truth proclaim;
’tis all my business here below
to cry, “Behold the Lamb!”

Happy, if with my latest breath
I may but gasp his name,
preach him to all and cry in death,
“Behold, behold the Lamb!”

Innkeeper’s Excuses

I read this poem that i had come across to the Senior’s Christmas Meal and it went down a treat:

“Oh, if only I had known!”

Said the keeper of the inn.

“But no hint to me was shown,

And I didn’t let them in.
“Yes, a star gleamed overhead,

But I couldn’t read the skies,

And I’d given every bed

To the very rich and wise.
“And she was so poorly clad,

And he hadn’t much to say!

But no room for them I had,

So I ordered them away.
“She seemed tired, and it was late

And they begged so hard, that I

Feeling sorry for her state,

In the stable let them lie.
“Had I turned some rich man out

Just to make a place for them

‘Twould have killed, beyond a doubt,

All my trade at Bethlehem.
“Then there came the wise men three

To the stable, with the morn,

Who announced they’d come to see

The great King who had been born.
“And they brought Him gifts of myrrh,

Costly frankincense and gold,

And a great light shone on her

In the stable, bleak and cold.
“All my patrons, now are dead

And forgotten, but to-day

All the world to peace is led

By the ones I sent away
“It was my unlucky fate

To be born that Inn to own,

Against Christ I shut my gate�

Oh, if only I had known!”
From Collected Verse of Edgar Guest

NY:Buccaneer Books, 1976, pg. 614



Cand strig spre cer in neagra noapte,
In disperare ingenuncheat,
Si-astept măcar o simpla soapta,
Eu știu ca El m-a ascultat.

El vede lacrimile-ascunse,
Si-aude glasul stins.
Ridica sufletul ce doare
Si trupul in durere prins.

Cand toți in jur par muti si surzi
El nu m-a părăsit nicicand
Si știu ca-n fiecare zi
In El pot sa m-ascund.