A Christian Life In Lyrics

Remembering another pretty early composition

For this song, I experimented with an unusual rhythm: 7/4 time. (Four beats for "Don't pay attention to the--" and three beats for "--sky, boys.") It was in a minor key, sung from the viewpoint of the centurion who supervised the crucifixion of Jesus and the two thieves. Note that the majority of rhymes here are "feminine," meaning a rhyme based on two syllables instead of one, e.g. "AT you" and "HAVE to."


"DON'T LOOK UP"


Don't pay attention to the sky, boys; don't tell me that it's getting darker.
There's nothing I can do about it; rattle the dice in the cup.
It'll get lighter, don't doubt it; meanwhile, don't look up.
You've seen a lot of people die, boys; this time we're killing off a martyr.
There's nothing terrible about it; rattle the dice in the cup.
It'll get lighter, don't doubt it; meanwhile, don't look up.

What is He saying? Don't even listen!
I think He's praying: "Father, forgive them."
"Father, forgive them"--I'm sure He said it.
"Father, forgive them"--could He have meant it?

Don't pay attention to the sky, boys; don't tell me that it's getting darker.
There's nothing I can do about it; rattle the dice in the cup.
It'll get lighter, don't doubt it; meanwhile, don't look up.
You've seen a lot of people die, boys; this time we're killing off a martyr.
There's nothing terrible about it; rattle the dice in the cup.
It'll get lighter, don't doubt it; meanwhile, don't look up.

Since there is nothing we can do for Him,
Treat Him as nothing; look down, ignore Him.
Don't look up at Him; He might look at you.
Don't look up at Him--but, God, I have to! {PAUSE}

This really was the Son of God, boys; that's why we're hearing all the thunder!
It's too late now to release Him; look at Him, He doesn't breathe.
I only hope His Father heeds Him, and forgives our deed.
This really was the Son of God, boys; we've made a beauty of a blunder!
It's too late now to release Him; look at Him, He doesn't breathe.
I only hope His Father heeds Him, and forgives our deed.
God, forgive our deed!


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
Well, I can't leave out the Resurrection after that--especially with Easter approaching! The following song, written close in time to the preceding, could be sung by one person or several.


"Glad You Could Make It"


Master, Master, how I cried while You were away;
I'm so glad You came again to see us today.
Sit down, Master, You could do with something to eat.
My Lord, my God, let me touch Your hands and Your feet!

Friday we thought we had lost You for good,
And that weekend was just like the end of our lives;
Then after Sunday, we all knew the truth
When You came back and stood right in front of our eyes!

Glad You could make it back to us, Master;
Life's a disaster when You're not here.
We couldn't take it, thinking we'd lost You;
Just what we cost You, now is quite clear!

Now we've seen You, now we know You've conquered the grave,
We know You'll keep every other promise You gave.
Come then, Master, enter in the hearts of us all;
Guard us, guide us, keep us from the threat of a fall.

Glad You could make it back to us, Master;
Life's a disaster when You're not here.
We couldn't take it, thinking we'd lost You;
Just what we cost You, now is quite clear!
But now that we've seen You, we never will fear;
Now that we've seen You, You've dried every tear!


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
Copperfox said:
For this song, I experimented with an unusual rhythm: 7/4 time. (Four beats for "Don't pay attention to the--" and three beats for "--sky, boys.") It was in a minor key, sung from the viewpoint of the centurion who supervised the crucifixion of Jesus and the two thieves. Note that the majority of rhymes here are "feminine," meaning a rhyme based on two syllables instead of one, e.g. "AT you" and "HAVE to."
Click to expand...

It's the unusual meter that makes this particular song so powerful. Of course, the title (and recurring chorus) make me think of "Look Down" in Les Mis :D. You demonstrate that not all poetry has to incorporate rhymed couplets, and the rhythm is the backbone underscoring this piece.. As a musician myself, I think the minor key fits perfectly with the subject matter.
 
Dear Fantine,

Thanks for the intelligent comments (as if you ever made any other kind); and thanks for the support.

Respectfully,
Jean Valjean
 
Now, does anyone remember The Singing Nun from the 1960's? Her songs were one of the VERY first influences to give me any nudge toward Jesus. Eventually I was to write an English lyric to the tune of my favorite of her songs. The song was, I think, titled something like "And My Heart Sings." Her melody reminded me a bit of the marching song "Rally Round The Flag." My words are independent of hers, but I thank her at long distance (VERY long--she passed away long since) for her enjoyable tune.

"THERE'S MORE THAN YOU SEE"

All the neutron stars and quasars, all the pulsars and black holes,
Are impressive, I will grant you, but they don't have living souls.
Dinosaurs are entertaining, since they're dead and therefore safe,
But the story they're a part of still is best perceived by faith.

There's more than you see, there's more than you feel,
More than this world below.
If you have an ear that's willing to hear,
You will believe, and come to know.

There's no energy men measure, in a particle or wave,
That explains away the Spirit Who makes people kind and brave.
All your chromosomes and instincts leave the picture incomplete;
For the whole truth, we must follow in the steps of nail-pierced feet.

There's more than you see, there's more than you feel,
More than this world below.
If you seek the truth, in age or in youth,
You will believe, and come to know.

What occurred on Easter Sunday, we could never reproduce
In a physics laboratory, but that doesn't change the truth.
And there's no computer model of how Heaven will appear;
But if you know the Designer, the design will soon come clear!

There's more than you see, there's more than you feel,
More than this world below.
If you have an ear that's willing to hear,
You will believe, and come to know.
 
This one was all mine, words and music. The tune was a Jim Croce-style rhythm-and-blues number.


"How Can You Refuse A Holy Kiss?"

What do you love? That's a question easy to ask, seldom resolved.
All the things and people call your name,
Lay their claim, get you involved.
How do you love: with a passion, or with a sweet, delicate bliss?
Do you want the love of someone nice?
Then let Christ give you a kiss.

It's not the kiss of death, or a kiss of bad breath,
Lusting or disgusting; be a little trusting.
You could never find love as lovely as this;
How can you refuse a holy kiss?

What can you lose when you throw yourself in the arms of Jesus Christ?
You can lose your doubt and guilt and fear;
Now He's near--are you enticed?
How can you lose with a love that constantly gives more than it takes?
He can take a heart that lies asleep,
Make it leap when it awakes.

It's not the kiss of death, or a kiss of bad breath,
Lusting or disgusting; be a little trusting.
Jesus has a love too terrific to miss;
How can you refuse a holy kiss?


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
I can't allow Easter weekend to pass us by without posting THIS lyric. The melody I composed for this was again in a less-common signature: in this case, 5/4.


"The Easter Carol"

Every Christmas season, people who, most of the year,
Seldom think of Jesus, briefly hold Him very dear.
It's the precious Baby Jesus that they want to see,
Not the keen, uncompromising Man from Galilee.

Jesus as a baby doesn't do much; He just lies there looking cute.
That's how this world wants Him--not rebuking sin, but comfortably mute.

It wasn't in the manger, but on the rugged cross,
That Jesus saved me from the consequence of what I am;
So when you're done with Christmas, why don't you help me toss
That rabbit out of Easter, and bring back the Lamb?

Easter might get equal time with Christmas if mankind,
On the subject of the Resurrection, were not blind.
Everyone agrees that Jesus came forth from the womb;
Not so many know He also came forth from the tomb.

With no Resurrection, all the claims of Jesus add up to a sham;
But since He is really risen, angels can say, "Worthy is the Lamb!"

So don't tell me that Easter means flowers in the spring;
Don't hand me empty phrases like, "I'm celebrating life."
My joy is found in Jesus, my resurrected King,
More dear to those who know Him than husband or wife.

Flowers newly blooming, babies drawing their first breath,
Are already under sentence of a certain death.
Talk of "reaffirming life," without God, is a lie;
If more lives are born, that only means there's more to die!

Mother Nature doesn't care about you--doesn't even know you're there.
God the Father is another story: He will listen to your prayer.

Whatever may have caused you to turn your back on Christ,
To disbelieve His promises of life beyond the grave,
I'm telling you that Jesus, though He was sacrificed,
Is living now, and He has the power to save.

It wasn't in the manger, but on the rugged cross,
That Jesus saved me from the consequence of what I am;
So when you're done with Christmas, why don't you help me toss
That rabbit out of Easter, and bring back the Lamb?


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
Joseph, I just read through your thread; I've not been in Prof Writing Club Forum since Lent began cuz I gave up reading fiction. But I enjoyed reading your lyrics! You are quite a poet. I wish I had Inkling's ability to feel how the words would wound to music, or that you could post the audio somewhere. I am very impressed!
 
As I said to Inkling, if you are willing to PM your postal address to me, we can discuss my sending you a recording of some of my songs. Meanwhile, thanks for the compliments.
 
One of the last songs to be written for the "Knights of the Lord's Table" music ministry was, again, a collaboration in which I wrote words to Kevin Johnson's music. The song will have special meaning to all readers of C.S. Lewis' non-fiction books.


"WRONG ROAD"

When you turn off at the wrong exit, leaving the route where you should go,
Stubbornly driving down the wrong road never will make it right, you know.

I went a long way down the wrong road,
Letting the breezes be my guide.
They offered me their windy freedom,
But in their promises they lied, they lied.

I was a case of white-line fever, couldn't go far or fast enough,
Thinking the roads would all go smoothly--couldn't believe they'd be so rough!

Aimlessly chasing the horizon,
Prisoner of my liberty,
Never did fill my empty spirit;
Till I have roots I won't be free, be free.

Lately I just can't get the mileage out of the pleasures I've pursued.
Put on the brakes and make a U-turn; there is a love to be renewed.

Pride has delayed me from returning,
But now at last I've turned around.
When I rejoin the One Who loves me,
Better adventures will be found, be found, be found.
 
Also written (entirely by me) while "Knights of the Lord's Table" still existed was a song inspired by Sir Walter Scott's classic medieval adventure novel "IVANHOE." (Note that the message relating to Israel is NOT saying that no individual Jewish person can be punished if actually guilty for a crime, but of course the Jewish heroine in the novel was innocent.)


Sir Wilfred And Rebecca

In the courtyard of a castle stood a Jewish maid, Rebecca,
Accused of working sorceries from H-ll.
All the witnesses were liars, and the judges all were bigots;
They hated her for being a child of Israel.
Though boasting they were Christians, if they had read their Bibles
In Genesis, twelfth chapter and third verse,
They would have seen the promise that God had given Abram:
That all who cursed His people, God would curse.

Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them.
He loves them, and He wants us to agree.
Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them;
They still belong as branches on His tree.

But they didn't read their Bibles, they preferred their own commandments;
And so they piled the firewood at the stake.
If a champion should save her, they agreed to spare the maiden;
But that looked like a danger no man would dare to take.
For on the field, Sir Brian, a murderous Crusader,
Stood by to fight and kill whoever came.
None there were so courageous as to oppose his prowess
To save a Jewish damsel from the flame.

Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them.
He loves them, and He wants us to agree.
Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them;
They still belong as branches on His tree.

In the nick of time, Sir Wilfred took the challenge for Rebecca;
None better knew her innocence than he.
In the name of truth and justice, he went forth to fight Sir Brian,
And God's own hand from Heaven gave Wilfred victory.
Thus rescued by Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe from burning,
Rebecca lived, and God was glorified.
But Ivanhoe's example too often goes unheeded;
Come, Christians, let us stand by Jacob's side!

Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them.
He loves them, and He wants us to agree.
Bless the seed of Abraham! God has not forsaken them;
They still belong as branches on His tree.


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts

P.S. Many readers living at the time Sir Walter had just published his novel wrote to him to say they wished Sir Wilfred had married Rebecca (who was in love with him). But it would have made the hero's nobility less pure if he had had that much of a prize to gain for himself. The author was making a point that Sir Wilfred would risk his life to protect the innocent because it was RIGHT to do so, not because he would get a hot chick as a reward.
 
Happy Easter!--though I already posted my Easter-connected songs before

Yes, Jesus did rise from death...and He did ascend to the right hand of God the Father...and the Holy Spirit was sent to the believers...after which they had to get to work. As do we.


"Love With A Backbone"


God gives
Love with a backbone, faith with a brain,
Hope that will carry us over the pain;
Joy with a reason, light with a focus, making it plain
That our God has a purpose, grace has a plan;
Life must be built upon rock, not the sand.
Eyes are for seeing, hands are for working, feet are for taking a stand.

Evil is not letting up in its attack upon all that's true,
But the church is getting up, starting to have a clue of what to do.

We need
Hearts for the harvest, guts for the fight,
Will to uphold the way we know is right,
Tears of repentance, prayers for revival, songs in the night.
For the war isn't finished, though victory
Came through the Cross around Thirty A.D.;
Truth must be spoken, souls be persuaded, slaves of the Devil set free.

Yes, we must have gentleness, but we must also have armor plate;
We're faced with a venomous enemy, who can't wait to hurl his hate.

Yet the
Rock that we stand on won't wear away,
Long though the time appears till Glory Day.
Walk in the Spirit, work for the gospel; Jesus did say,
If our Master was hated, so we will be,
But if we fight the good fight, we will see
Home at the road's end, life everlasting, fruit on the Heavenly tree.

Though death may be frightening, and although sacrifice is not fun,
It becomes a tiny thing next to what has been done by God the Son.

We can
Trust in our High Priest, look to our Head;
He pioneered the path we have to tread;
Praise will remind us, Christ can't be stopped from raising the dead.
We've got dreams for the future, strength for the task,
Crowns we'll be given when this life is past;
Love with a backbone, joy with a reason,
Urgent in season and out of season,
Love with a backbone, joy with a reason,
Keeping us true to the last!


My Latin motto is relevant here:

UT FIDEM PRAESTEM IN DIFFICULTATE!

--pronounced "Oot fee-dem pry-stem in difficul-tah-tey,"
and meaning, "Let me be faithful in adversity!"
 
I have seen three or four versions of the Don Quixote musical "Man of La Mancha." Upon seeing one in which my own sister Tammi portrayed Aldonza, I got to thinking about the idealism depicted in Don Quixote in the play. "To dream the impossible dream"--but a dream ABOUT WHAT? The story lost some of its charm for me as I realized that, apart from offering Aldonza decent treatment which was of course valuable in itself, Don Quixote wasn't GOING anywhere with his professed noble quest. The same could be said for some heroic fantasies: lots of emotion about being noble and great, but to what end? On what basis? On whose terms?

So I soon wrote one of my longest songs. Musically, it has a galloping rhythm, and makes use of a major-to minor shift similar to the chord shift which makes Pachelbel's "Canon" famous, but with a contented major-key conclusion. And yes, the capitalized pronouns mean what you think they mean....


"QUESTING RIDER"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Questing Rider made his way over hills and over streams,
Driven on by hero's dreams, with his eye upon a star.
Tireless was the steed he rode, equal to the hardest pace,
As they hunted for the place where answers are.
Answers to more questions than he could recall;
He assumed his quest would solve them one and all.

In his path appeared a man--Peaceful Walker, He was called--
Waved the rider to a halt, churning dust into the air.
Unaffected by the dust, Peaceful Walker smiled and said,
"Do you know what lies ahead, and do you care?
Is there any substance to your hero's code?
Do you seek a goal, or merely love the road?"

Questing Rider was annoyed at this,
And he replied,
"You just envy me because You're walking while I ride!
Now clear the way;
The trumpet calls to me!
I am bound for greater heights than You will ever see."

Questing Rider made his way to a mountain tall, and yet
Not so steep he couldn't get up the slope upon his steed.
Man and stallion struggled on for a mile, then two and three,
Feeling now that this would be their greatest deed;
For the star which they had come so far to seek
Now seemed reachable upon the mountain's peak.

Then, the final upward bend of the mountain path revealed
What before had been concealed from the rider's eager eye:
Lofty though the mountain was, all the stars were higher still,
And for all his riding skill, he could not fly.
But the horse, with no idea of the distance to be spanned,
Leaped right off the mountaintop without awaiting a command--

And the wild winds flung the horse and rider far apart as they fell;
Questing Rider had no time to wonder if his quest was ending well.

Then, to his astonishment, his fall was broken without any harm;
Peaceful Walker had appeared, and caught him with a single mighty arm!

Questing Rider found himself standing at the mountain's base,
Where he had to turn his face from the sight: his horse was dead.
Peaceful Walker quietly said, "You never were aware
That I own the stud and mare whence he was bred.
But I had no time to get him fully trained,
Ere you rode him off to seek the unattained."

Questing Rider, through his grief, felt amazement grow again;
"You're the great Horse Trainer, then? Why is it that You don't ride?"
Peaceful Walker answered him, "Horses have too slow a pace;
I can be in any place with just one stride.
But I realize it's different for you,
So excuse Me while I do what I must do."

Peaceful Walker laid a hand upon
The horse's head,
And he came to life as if he never had been dead!
"Now, Questing Rider,
Take advice from Me:
Don't mount up again until I've trained him properly."

Questing Rider walked for days, but he found he didn't mind;
There were worthwhile things to find closer by than stars above.
Peaceful Walker answered all riddles from his former quest,
Telling him the very best answer was love.
It was love that made the Walker walk the land.
Though to Him, the very stars were only sand...and...

Questing Rider rides again, but with clearer purpose now;
Peaceful Walker showed him how he should ride, and where he should.
What his former dreams would yield, Questing Rider never knew;
Now he knows the way to do people some good.
Everywhere he rides, he brings the news to seekers East and West,
Of the Peaceful Walker Who alone fulfills every quest.


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
Copperfox said:
I have seen three or four versions of the Don Quixote musical "Man of La Mancha." Upon seeing one in which my own sister Tammi portrayed Aldonza, I got to thinking about the idealism depicted in Don Quixote in the play. "To dream the impossible dream"--but a dream ABOUT WHAT? The story lost some of its charm for me as I realized that, apart from offering Aldonza decent treatment which was of course valuable in itself, Don Quixote wasn't GOING anywhere with his professed noble quest. The same could be said for some heroic fantasies: lots of emotion about being noble and great, but to what end? On what basis? On whose terms?

So I soon wrote one of my longest songs. Musically, it has a galloping rhythm, and makes use of a major-to minor shift similar to the chord shift which makes Pachelbel's "Canon" famous, but with a contented major-key conclusion. And yes, the capitalized pronouns mean what you think they mean....
Click to expand...


Have you thought about playing around with Anapestic rhythm? It always conjures up horses' hooves to me :). I've enjoyed seeing how you breathe new life into classic literature, and I look forward to seeing what you'd do to Shakespeare. What's in a name, indeed?
 
Who can refuse anything to Inkling? (Well, within reason; I won't pay your taxes for you.) Let me try a first jab at something relating to Shakespeare. My melody-composing fountain seems to have dried up during my Naval service, but I can still attach lyrics to existing tunes, which many have done before me. Let'sss seeee....

Okay, if you remember the 90's song "House of Stone and Light," this is to that melody, and concerns Henry the 5th.


Stuck in France, we march in rainy fields;
Their Dauphin is sniffing at our heels.
By our looks, you'd think we'll never win,
But by the Mass, our hearts are in the trim.

I will not rest till I win this contest;
We'll be shooting bows at knights.
I'll score some points, ransom only my joints;
We'll be shooting bows at knights.

Make a speech about Saint Crispin's Day;
Then my men won't want to run away.
After all, my yeomen are all brave,
Not like serfs who live the life of slaves.

It will be sport to win at Agin-KORT;
We'll be shooting bows at knights.
No, wait, I'm sure it's pronounced Agin-KOOR;
We'll be shooting bows at knights.
 
Although I have other lyrics to post which come earlier in time than this one, I feel like posting this right now in view of recent forum activity by someone who doesn't get it.


"SANCTITY SONG"



Into the sunset so many ride;
Out of the sunrise others appear.
Life passes by us, huge as the tide;
Who can perceive it all from here?
We try to grasp it with poetry,
Call it a river, fated to run
Into the ocean infinitely,
Where single drops are lost and gone.
But fools may be poets, and their poetry can lie!
God, Who created us, had something better planned
Than to dissolve us into nothing when we die;
That empty ocean's not the end,
Over it waits the Promised Land.

Gaze out a window onto the street;
Say it's a faceless crowd passing by.
That's just because your view's incomplete;
God's looking each one in the eye.
No one's anonymous to the Lord;
Each human soul is on center stage--
Even the ones we may have ignored,
Like those who reach extreme old age.
And try telling Jesus to forget His "love affair
With human fetuses"--when He Himself was one!
You can deny what God and common sense declare;
Yet, when it's all been said and done,
You know where all of us come from.

Hundreds or millions--numbers are vain;
God sees the individual mind,
Feels every sorrow, knows every pain
In all the mass of humankind.
He never looks on life as a blur;
He values lives--a you and a me,
This one and that, a him and a her,
Each to be known distinctively.
So cherish your brothers and sisters, even though
In mortal years you only meet a few of them.
They're not a river with a mindless, muddy flow;
Each has a soul, I say again,
So praise the Lord for life, amen!


-- Joseph Richard Ravitts
 
Here, I'll try to get back to my rough chronological ordering. The following song was written pretty early in my Christian life; I had a notion of instructing that a recording of me singing it be played at my own funeral. But at the time, I had not yet been a hospice volunteer, nor buried my own first wife. Now I have mixed feelings about this song; the message is valid (and I am STILL irritated by people focussing exclusively on "He lives on in our hearts"), but I don't want to be too hard on the bereaved. See what you think.


"Good Grief"

You've come to say a kind of goodbye to me,
So maybe you're feeling sad.
Well, I've left you a little message in song,
To say that you should be glad.

I am sleeping wide awake,
In His arms Who suffered for my sake.

Fellow saints in Christ, take heart:
Not for long are we apart.
We will be rejoined to stay
On the resurrection day.

If you miss me, and you would like to believe
Somehow that I still remain,
Please don't say things like "He lives on in our hearts"
--Such drivel gives me a pain.

There's a lot more left of me
Than a slowly fading memory.

I myself exist right now;
Any saint can tell you how.
So forget your worldly grief;
Learn instead the true belief.

Save up your tears for your confession of sins;
Now, there's a reason to weep.
Don't cry for me, for I have not ceased to be,
Though I have fallen asleep.

I am sleeping wide awake,
In His arms Who suffered for my sake.

Fellow saints in Christ, take heart:
Not for long are we apart.
We will be rejoined to stay
On the resurrection day.


(c) Joseph R. Ravitts
 
Also in the vein of dealing with mortality:

In my early years of following Jesus, I thought often about the Old Testament saints who, as the Book of Hebrews puts it, "died in hope, not having received the promise." Various interpretations are offered of what exactly was the state of saved souls AFTER death but BEFORE Jesus had died and risen. There were medievals who believed that, UNTIL Jesus was resurrected, all the righteous souls from Old Testament times were IN HELL just as surely as unrepentant evildoers, and no better off than those evildoers. I know this from a medieval religious play I once read. But that is WRONG--for Isaiah assures us that the righteous soul departs to peace, though the environment of that peace is not discussed.

Based on the idea of an "upper level of Sheol," not quite Heaven but certainly not Hell, which might have housed saved souls until Jesus opened its gates, I wrote the following song (which was long a favorite of my first wife). It is one of the very few songs I have ever written that speak from God's point of view. Picture the top of Mount Nebo at the end of Deuteronomy; and hold the Mount of the Transfiguration in your mind. (Incidentally, the verse melody changes from Verse 1 to Verse 2.)


"GOD TO MOSES"

Look well upon the land
Where your feet will never stand,
Knowing Joshua will go
There, and kill his every foe.
While Israel gives heed
To My words, they will succeed,
Overcoming sin and shame,
Giving glory to My name.

But as for you, you could have done a better job, you know;
Yet many others would have served me worse.
Though now you have to join your fathers in the grave below,
You won't see Hell; My grace removes the curse.

So, Moses, lie down and sleep;
I'll bury you deep, you'll not be forsaken.
It won't seem like being dead,
More like a soft bed; and when you awaken,

You'll stand upon another mountain, talking to My Son,
In company with one who never died;
And in the end, you and My other saints whose work is done
Will cross a greater Jordan side by side.


(c) Joseph Richard Ravitts
 
Note that this song refers to Our Lord by His Jewish name

"White Bread"


As a boy, I ate a great amount of white bread,
Mostly toasted and with peanut butter spread.
From my limited experience of baked goods,
I supposed it was the ultimate in bread.

If you had asked me then if I would ever change my diet, I might have said:
"Why should I want to change, when I'm already daily eating the finest bread?"

Then in place of my old staple,
I put down upon a table
Oatmeal bread, a whole-wheat bagel and some rolls.
I lost all my taste for white bread,
Felt as if it wasn't quite bread--
Least of all that dull and trite bread with no holes. *

*(Reference to "batter-whipped Sunbeam Bread")

As a boy I watched a lot of television:
Cops and robbers, Men from UNCLE, and the rest.
Television was my comrade and my sweetheart,
And I thought this entertainment was the best.

If you had asked me if I thought I would outgrow the habit, I might have said:
"What's to outgrow? I'll probably be watching television until I'm dead."

But I gave attention later
To legitimate the-ay-ter,
Finding entertainment greater on the stage.
Now the TV set more rarely
Do I look at, for it barely
Interests me since I fairly came of age.

As a boy I was agnostic in my outlook,
Striking poses in the face of the unknown.
I made private philosophical excursions,
Always vague, and with no answers ever shown.

If you had asked me for opinions on eternal matters, what I'd have said
Would not be worth repeating now, for it would be the thought of a muddled head.

Then one night I ran into a
Jewish fellow named Yeshua,
And before long, I intuitively knew
He would outdo any theory
With an answer to my query,
And His answer would be clearly, simply true.

As a man, I put away the things of childhood;
I am still a child, but in a different sense.
Unbelief became insipid to my spirit,
Once I met with supernatural events.

Now you can ask me anything at all about Yeshua, and I'll explain:
He tells the truth, in fact He is the truth, and if you meet Him you've much to gain.

Put away your old behavior,
Start a new life with the Savior;
In His Book He will engrave your name right then.
Be a hearer and a doer,
Be renewed by the Renewer;
You'll be mighty glad that you were born again.


(c) Joseph Richard Ravitts
 
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