The Gospel of Wealth
Jesus was rich, you say? ‘Tis a twisted gospel indeed,
To fit our culture of this day, that caters to man’s greed.
It’s the age old lie reborn, spread by new breed of teacher,
Who views the poor with scorn, while mocking the old-time preacher.
A new gospel, with a thirst for a kingdom now and here;
That teaches men to seek Self first, refusing God to fear.
They twist Christ’s covenant of old; His own blood, its decree.
They want silver and lots of gold! Their wealth will set them free!
Choosing not to seek God’s face, they prefer to seek His hand.
Not enough, sins to erase! God must serve, while they command.
For holiness, they don’t thirst, nor for godly doctrine sound.
They want their own desires first! A new path they have found!
"Give us riches! Give us more gold, and mansions here so fine!
We will not walk the paths of old! On this earth, we must shine!
God must give us our own way, while we strut down here below.
For our desires, we will pray; On Self, all goods bestow.
We choose to strut in wealth, and walk a path of great success.
In this life, naught but perfect health, adorned with finest dress.
With the wealthy, we will dine; and much gold we choose to seek.
Drinking only earth’s best wine! Being poor is for the meek!
Do you think we plan to lose? I tell you, we’ll not be poor!
Our own selves, we will amuse! We are destined to have more!
Let no man dare to take our coat; nor slap our sun-kissed cheek.
We will sue him for his cloak! Men will never find us weak!
Don’t try to make us walk your mile, or give us trial or test!
We’re the heirs you must not rile! We demand the very best!
We’ll get all that we do claim, and be all we wish to be.
Getting gold and much fame. We’ll even help you for a fee!
We choose to only serve a King Who came to give us gold.
Not a Savior, who killed Death’s sting, to gain lambs for His fold.
Not enough is this new birth, nor a heaven up above.
We want riches on this earth! It’s King Self we serve and love.
We’re glad that God sent us His Son, who died on Calvary’s hill.
But we want heaven and our fun, and choose to do our will.
Yes, Jesus suffered on the cross; His crown made up of thorn.
But we accept no trial or loss! We’re of royalty born!
Let this Jesus carry His cross! We’ll live our life of ease.
Let Him take all of the loss, while we live just as we please.
Let God’s own Son pay the price, so we will have no sorrow.
We plan to have things nice, with no tears in our tomorrow!
We are wise ones, men of fame; the way of the cross, we mock.
We will never walk in shame. Money is our founding rock."
Once again, prodigals spend all for trinkets of this earth;
Refusing to heed our Lord’s call, are blind to Christ’s true worth.
Now if their fine words you have heard, and wondered if they’re right;
You must get back to God’s own Word! Be armed with sword and might!
Our Lord was loaned a humble womb; placed in lowly stable;
Buried in a borrowed tomb. Earthly riches? A fable!
He walked among the needy poor, the weak, the halt, the lame.
Touching wounded and the sore; Never sought for earthly fame.
Rebuked the vain and proud; Cared nothing for reputation.
To His Father’s will, He bowed; still cursed in every nation.
Satan offered to give Him all, to catch in web and snare.
But He obeyed His Father’s call, trusting Him for His care.
He did not ride in pomp and style, in gilded chariot of brass;
But walked the path of self-denial, and rode on lowly ass.
His path led to Calvary’s hill, to the cross of terrible shame.
There, cruel men spilled His blood; the purpose for which He came.
Few choose to follow our sweet Lord, when asked to bear their cross.
But some follow in accord and, for Him, count all things loss.
"Follow Me" still comes Christ’s call, "whatever may come your way."
His servants freely give Him all; His will, not self, obey.
Marching through the centuries past, no lust for wealth or fame;
Before His feet, their crowns will cast; Praise only for His name.
Others live for Self alone; to this world their souls sell;
Not enough is the blood He gave, to free our souls from hell.
They will not follow the I AM; new doctrines they devise.
And walk away from God’s dear Lamb; the Pearl of greatest prize.
Don’t be moved away from Christ by those who claim they are wise.
Don’t trade Jesus for earth’s gold, nor heed men’s alluring lies.
This earth will pass away. Our promotion comes from above.
‘Til then, serve Christ, and obey! Trust His never-failing love.
When God blesses, do not trust the fleeting riches of earth.
For wealth here will surely rust. Faith in Christ alone has worth.
Walk humbly, with no pride, while on this earthly path you roam.
Be faithful, Christ’s true Bride! Heaven, not this earth, is your home!
Do not for wealth, salvation trade! This life will soon be past.
Earth will burn and soon fade. Priceless Pearl - Christ alone - will last.
written by Carolyn Wilde
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Mary had a little Lamb,
His life was white as snow.
And everywhere His Father led,
This Lamb was sure to go.
He followed to the cross one day
And hung upon that tree.
So sinners, plunged beneath His blood
Could from their sins be free.
A crown of thorns; a soldiers’ scourge;
Both cruel marks of shame:
Salvation bought at monstrous cost,
For each who calls His name.
His cry rings out, the mockers sneer,
He hangs for all to see.
“My God!” His cry. “I thirst,” His sigh,
And demons scream in glee.
Sin hides its face; earth moves its place,
Its Creator gasps and dies.
The veil is rent, the Lamb’s work done,
All heav’n looks on and cries.
His body limp, His loving hand
No longer lifts to heal.
Then take Him down! On to the tomb!
Make sure His grave with seal!
Guard that tomb lest He escape!
You Soldiers, watch it well!
How dare our Creator come to earth
To save lost men from hell!
All heav’n awaits. All hell look on,
Each eye fixed on that tomb.
Then LIFE bursts out! The LAMB shines forth
Dispelling Death and Doom.
All Heaven shouts, while Hell shrinks back,
Men sleep throughout the scene.
Not knowing what has taken place,
Man’s sins can now be clean!
Can LIFE stay dead? Can LIGHT stay dark?
RESURRECTION stay in grave?
Oh, foolish Man, why can’t you see?
Our Savior came to save!
Man simply passes on his way,
Few stop at that old cross.
But each who looks the other way
Will suffer endless loss.
A few do stop and few do gaze,
Guilt piercing through their soul.
“Wash me!” their cry. “Forgive,” their sigh,
And Christ’s blood makes them whole.
Yes, Mary had a little LAMB,
The LAMB ‘tween heaven and earth.
Oh, stop, ye men! Behold your LAMB!
Possess a brand new birth!
written by Carolyn Wilde
His life was white as snow.
And everywhere His Father led,
This Lamb was sure to go.
He followed to the cross one day
And hung upon that tree.
So sinners, plunged beneath His blood
Could from their sins be free.
A crown of thorns; a soldiers’ scourge;
Both cruel marks of shame:
Salvation bought at monstrous cost,
For each who calls His name.
His cry rings out, the mockers sneer,
He hangs for all to see.
“My God!” His cry. “I thirst,” His sigh,
And demons scream in glee.
Sin hides its face; earth moves its place,
Its Creator gasps and dies.
The veil is rent, the Lamb’s work done,
All heav’n looks on and cries.
His body limp, His loving hand
No longer lifts to heal.
Then take Him down! On to the tomb!
Make sure His grave with seal!
Guard that tomb lest He escape!
You Soldiers, watch it well!
How dare our Creator come to earth
To save lost men from hell!
All heav’n awaits. All hell look on,
Each eye fixed on that tomb.
Then LIFE bursts out! The LAMB shines forth
Dispelling Death and Doom.
All Heaven shouts, while Hell shrinks back,
Men sleep throughout the scene.
Not knowing what has taken place,
Man’s sins can now be clean!
Can LIFE stay dead? Can LIGHT stay dark?
RESURRECTION stay in grave?
Oh, foolish Man, why can’t you see?
Our Savior came to save!
Man simply passes on his way,
Few stop at that old cross.
But each who looks the other way
Will suffer endless loss.
A few do stop and few do gaze,
Guilt piercing through their soul.
“Wash me!” their cry. “Forgive,” their sigh,
And Christ’s blood makes them whole.
Yes, Mary had a little LAMB,
The LAMB ‘tween heaven and earth.
Oh, stop, ye men! Behold your LAMB!
Possess a brand new birth!
written by Carolyn Wilde
THE JOURNEY
Have you been to the ocean
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Have you traveled to the cross
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written by Carolyn Wilde
SMILING BILL
Unceasing joy overflowed from Bill McChesney’s heart, filling his face with a brilliant smile. All who met him
knew instantly why he was simply known as “Smiling Bill”. Neither his life nor his death could erase the smile
from Bill’s face. I read a poem that Bill wrote and a short biography of his life and his death. We will begin with
his poem: “My Choice”. The poem I wrote “Smiling Bill” follows. I want you to meet this servant of Christ, for
Bill taught us how to live and how to die. Only the joy of the Lord could keep him smiling through both.
written by Carolyn Wilde
knew instantly why he was simply known as “Smiling Bill”. Neither his life nor his death could erase the smile
from Bill’s face. I read a poem that Bill wrote and a short biography of his life and his death. We will begin with
his poem: “My Choice”. The poem I wrote “Smiling Bill” follows. I want you to meet this servant of Christ, for
Bill taught us how to live and how to die. Only the joy of the Lord could keep him smiling through both.
written by Carolyn Wilde
MY CHOICE
BY “SMILING BILL” MCCHESNEY
I want my breakfast served at eight,
With ham and eggs upon the plate, A well-broiled steak I’ll eat at one, And dine again when day is done. I want an ultramodern home And in each room a telephone; Soft carpets, too, upon the floors, And pretty drapes to grace the doors. A cozy place of lovely things, Like easy chairs with inner springs, And then I’ll get a small TV - Of course, “I’m careful what I see.” I want my wardrobe, too, to be, Of neatest, finest quality, With latest style in suit and vest: Why should not Christians have the best? But then the Master I can hear In no uncertain voice, so clear: “I bid you come and follow Me, The lowly Man of Galilee. “Birds of the air have made their nest, And foxes in their holes find rest, But I can offer you no bed; No place have I to lay My head.” |
In shame I hung my head and cried.
How could I spurn the Crucified? Could I forget the way He went, The sleepless nights in prayer He spent? For forty days without a bite, Alone He fasted day and night; Despised, rejected - on He went, And did not stop till veil He rent. A man of sorrows and of grief, No earthly friend to bring relief; “Smitten of God,” the prophet said - Mocked, beaten, bruised, His blood ran red. If He be God, and died for me, No sacrifice too great can be For me, a mortal man to make, I’ll do it all for Jesus sake. Yes, I will tread the path He trod, No other way will please my God. So, henceforth, this my choice shall be, My choice for all eternity. |
SMILING BILL
BY CAROLYN WILDE
Don’t call Smiling Bill just a little man,
(Tho’ five foot two and one-hundred and ten.)
For he made his choice to leave his all
And follow his Lord, when he heard the call.
He was alone and just twenty-eight,
But souls were dying, and he dared not wait.
So, in ‘sixty-four, he set sail,
Landed in the Congo, weak and frail.
The mission was gladdened with his cheer.
He preached the Word to all who’d hear.
His body grew weak with each passing day,
Malaria took his strength away.
He kept on smiling, this “Smiling Bill”,
In spite of fever and trembling chill.
He was beaten; his body thrown in jail,
But nothing could o’er his joy prevail.
Dragged outside, ‘mid screaming mob,
His heart was burdened when he heard a sob.
“Cheer up,” he spoke to his brothers in the Lord.
“To separate from Christ - man has no sword!
“My choice was made before I came,
I gladly suffer for His dear name.
I will walk with Him to my last mile,
That is the reason for my big smile!”
The mob howled, hit, kicked, and killed,
Dragged Bill to the river that crocodiles filled.
But no beast could make that smile cease,
For Bill’s still smiling in the Land of Peace.
written by Carolyn Wilde
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas
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He finished His work
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written by Carolyn Wilde
“... the Lord sent out a great wind into the sea, and there was a mighty tempest in the sea,
so that the ship was like to be broken. Then the mariners were afraid, and cried every man
unto his god, and cast forth the wares that were in the ship into the sea, to lighten it of
them. But Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship; and he lay, and was fast asleep.
So the shipmaster came to him, and said unto him, What meanest thou, O sleeper? arise,
call upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish not.” JONAH 1:4-6
THE PRAYERLESS CHURCH
Wake up, o sleeper! Get up! Arise!
Do you not hear our terror filled cries?
This world is tossing us, to and fro;
Yet you sleep on; and no mercy show.
Do you not care that we are dying?
Can you not hear our moans and crying?
Your love for us is an empty claim,
You will not rise and call on God’s name.
That we all perish, you do not care,
You refuse to call on God in prayer.
We pray to gods, who can’t help at all,
Yet, on the Living God, you won’t call.
You won’t wake up and fall to your knees;
You prefer sleep and your life of ease.
Our hearts are filled with fear; we tremble,
But to pray, you will not assemble.
Do you care nothing about our fate?
Will you wake up, when it is too late?
You sleep, as we face our damnation;
You don’t care about our salvation.
On this ship of life, we toss and lurch,
The tragedy is ... the PRAYERLESS CHURCH.
written by Carolyn Wilde
WE CAN NEVER OUTGIVE OUR LORD
She poured out sweet perfume,
In the midst of men’s sneers.
She knelt down before Him,
Bathed His feet with her tears.
Man’s scorns seemed as nothing,
To her heart filled with love,
She can’t out give Jesus,
Her sweet Lord from above.
Jesus poured out His blood,
He suffered in shame.
All creation stood by,
As man mocked His dear name.
He prevented angels
From defending with sword.
Not one will be able,
To out give the Lord.
We can give Him our life,
Count our own as a loss.
We can kneel before Him,
At that old rugged cross.
We can follow His steps,
Give our head to man’s sword,
But no man can ever,
Out give Jesus, our Lord.
written by Carolyn Wilde
REMOTE CONTROL
The TV controller,
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Our spirits were crying out
For this to stop, But I had to see what talent Was on top, Who was the culprit And the murderer, too! Mysteries, mysteries, To the TV I flew! Each problem I faced Was now absorbed in time, By the TV I watched, The filth and the slime! No! No! I would never do Such wretched things! But these shows had me hooked To the devil’s strings! With each compromise The devil dug deeper, Dragging my spirit man Only but steeper! From right, and Godly, And only what is truth, These attributes I knew From my blessed youth! Though my spirit man was Weakened and weary, He shouted again To my soul, so dreary “Wake up! Wake up! Or your flesh man will win!” “This battle raging O’er a life filled with sin!” Alas! Alas! Surely, what a fool was I! To watch one more show, Could mean my soul could die! Under “control” Was my fingers, my head, Without intervention, My spirit could be dead! |
My spirit man cried,
“Please, Lord Jesus help me!” “I’m bound, only through You I can be set free!” The peace I now felt Could not be understood By just mere man, Only a spirit man could Know the freedom in Christ My soul did find When giving Jesus back Completely my mind! To think of things holy, Honest, pure, and just, Not of things evil, And of a worldly lust. You say, “So foolish, This is not true, A “Remote control” Could not do this to you.” “Oh, yes, my brother And sister, I dare say, Satan is behind What you think may be play: TV, Video Games, Computers and more, Satan has so much “Controls” for you in store. Things that gradually Take your spirit man down, Don’t wait until in his “control,” You’ll drown! “Repent, repent,” I call to one and to all! “You have only one life, Please don’t let it fall, To satan’s “control”, He’ll “remotely” take hold, Of mind, body, and soul, Thru the Bible we’re told!” written by Suzanne Courtright
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Battle ScarsAwards and medals on my walls,
A hero, some would say. But, I really know, I was there. I should throw them all away. War brings death to innocents. Is there blood upon my hands? My nation called; so I went Far away to distant lands Raised in a church, a “preacher’s kid,” “Future Pastor,” many said. But I ran away, age eighteen, Soon thousands would be dead. Guilt can kill, nowhere to hide, Nightmares constantly Tried to pray, they bounced right back. I wanted to break free. A mother’s prayer can reach up to The highest throne of heaven. How many years did she pray? Five, or six, maybe seven Gun in hand, whiskey haze Falling in black hole. Satan laughing, open arms, Ready to take my soul. Christ truly reigns, over all. He pulled me out of hell. I made it through, still alive. This story I must tell. If darkness haunts you daily, Please let your tears now flow. Christ will soothe and comfort With voice so sweet and low. written by E. E. Orewiler |
Give ThanksTen lepers cleansed, nine walked along, only one came back to pray.
That faithful man, forever whole, thanked our Jesus on that day. Thinking back to my second birth on that steamy August night. A quiet man, quite unknown to me, led this sinner towards The Light. Happy and free, I ran around, as many new Christians do. I never thought about the man kneeling with me at that pew. He must have listened to our Lord, or, just did he see my tears? Why do I want to thank him now? Why now after all these years? What about all those other ones who I may not even know, Who, in secret, prayed for me and on barren land did sow? How many others wept and cried, gently watering God*s seed, Praying on despite my laughter, knew my deepest inner need? Leper or sinner, old or young, don*t let it get too late. Thank all the ones who prayed you through, please do it now, don*t wait. Yes, to the cross we owe it all and, the resurrection too. But, remember, in your prayers, God sent someone to you. written by E. E. Orewiler 5/7/2021 SANCTUARYThough troubles surround us, we are safe from all dread,
In His sanctuary as the Psalmist has said. Oh listen, weary one, it’s time to come home, Safe, in sanctuary, drawing near to His throne. Wicked men prospering while righteous men perish, Evil darkens our days and takes all we cherish. We cry out for justice but our voice goes unheard, Must always remember God is true to His Word. Rulers are arrogant and infested with sin, Our country polluted, a decay from within. Storms, Plagues, and oppression, there is no place to hide, No reason to panic, God is right by our side. Our world is dissolving, end of time is so near, Although others perish we have nothing to fear. Reading God’s Holy Word shows the way to the throne, When kept by His Spirit we are never alone. To enter His presence, we must do so with praise, Lifting our voices, holy hands we now raise. Holy, most Holy One, we all come to you now, Safe, in sanctuary, every knee we now bow. written by E. E. Orewiler 9/16/2021 Read: Psalms 73:1-17 |