NO WOUND OR SCAR?

The Soldier stood before the Captain of the Guard

The wounded lay between the living and the dead

The battlefield was marked by stains of blood from war

Now only memories follow those still left on shore.

Their graves are marked with epitaphs on marbled stone,

And every year the tears still fall in silent groans

The Purple Heart was his, not ours to hold with pride

He is the hero in the grave who fought and died!

The Captain of the Guard then spoke in accent clear

“Where did you go when bugle called to face the foe?”

The Soldier, trembling answered, that he ran away

He was afraid of fatal wounds or scars that day.

Just then there flashed across the Eastern sky, a Cross,

The scars of Battle could be seen on hands and side

The Captain bore those wounds in love for you and me

So through His death enslaved mankind could be set free.

We are the Soldiers that are called to fight the Foe

It is for each to use the Sword while here below

The question that disturbs and moves my heart by far

Is what we'll tell Him if we have no wound or scar!

--B. Pent

ONE LIFE TO LIVE

As we reflect on how our lives are spent

How golden years like mist soon disappear

The talents given us as gifts to serve

Were meant to lift man’s burdens and give cheer.

The footprints left along the shores of time

With youthful hopes like castles in the sand

If unfulfilled – are only empty dreams

Without true purpose placed within our hand.

So transient is our pilgrimage below

And God has given limits to our days

A second chance is not within our grasp

Since deeds of love are ours to bring Him praise.

Review your life before the Reaper calls

Don't let regrets enslave you to the past

Live daily with eternity in view

For faithful service done for Christ will last.

--B. Pent

TO SING AGAIN

The winter's chill seems here to stay

The sound of joy has taken flight

The sun that once shown bright and clear

Has given way to shades of night.

The wounds are deep that pierce the soul

The cooing of the Dove is gone

The empty space that once was filled

No longer hears the blue bird's song.

How can one find the road back home

Where music calls the heart to dance?

When will the birds begin to sing

So Spring is not a game of chance?

The summer rays that warm the soul

Are Spirit borne on wings of praise

Just trust the One Whose promise stands

His music will renew your days.

--B. Pent