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Inspired By Dick H., Bud E. & Co.

From our earliest boyhood to our latter days,
There’s a hero that we’ve always wanted to praise;
No poet we know of has ever, to date,
Tossed him the roses we think he should rate–

It’s the John Doe the most of us leave in the lurch:
The fellow who’s always, on Sundays, in Church.
He always is present at Sunday School, too,
And throughout the week he finds God’s work to do.

We personally go (and you maybe do, too)
When the mood is upon us: we’ve nothing to do;
But we wonder sometimes as our way home we wend,
Who keeps the Old Church there for us to ettend??

When we miss Church for months, or a half year, perhaps,
Who sees it’ll be there throughout our relapse?
We take it for granted: we come back once more,
And it still has a carpet, a preacher, a door.

That fellow we spoke of, he’s there in his place
With a big smile of welcome all over his face.
The way that he greets us we’ve never been gone;
We’re a little bit shamefaced–he never lets on.

By no slightest hint doee he show it’s been he
Who’s ventured and striven for him and for me;
You’d never suspect it’s through efforts of his
That the whole organization’s today where it is.

He’s spent hours on Committees we can’t do without,
And slaved behind scenes that we don’t know about;
He’s helped out the young folks by pushing their League,
And worked, without pay, to the point of fatigue.

So let’s hail the fellow who’s faithful to Church–
In our Hall of Fame he can claim his own perch:
Who personally sees that our Church is still there
Carries his end, and ours, of a cross we should share.

And if you encounter a poet you know,
Have him knock out a stanza a-lauding John Doe–
Or better, let’s SHOW John what we think he’s worth:
Attend Church, and help with God’s Kingdom on Earth!

by Ray Romine Saturday, October 3, 1942

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In A Dentist’s Chair

What buildings are they there across the way,
The tops of them alone exposed to view?
I turned some corners climbing here today,
And bade the old habitual things adieu:
No thing I know to greet my sense–I’m lost!
No help to aid my eye, tell south from north;
Until, upon the darkened sky embossed,
I see, as though by giant hand held forth–
The tower of my own familiar church!
I thrill down deep at symbolism here:
That Christ should reach a one in this strange perch
Again to show that He is always near!
The buildings now I know–and this event
Has taught its lesson, and I am content.

Fin. 12-1-43, and actually
started 11-29, sitting in a
Dentist’s Chair!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, December 1, 1943

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Greatest Marvel

I’d thought the time of miracles was past,
Considering each a sort of ruse, or wraith
Instead of what it was, a proof of faith–
A faith so strong it can and will outlast
An age in which we mortals see how fast
And careless we can be. How out of place
In such a world as ours a Christian face:
God made so few, then threw away the cast.
And yet, the mold He’s able to retrieve
To use to make a Christian out of him
Who has the will to turn, and Christ believe.
How could He greater marvel ever limn,
How could He ever grander feat achieve,
Than change the sinner to the seraphim?

by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 25, 1943

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God ‘s Agent

No song I sing, no breath I take,
But it belongs to Thee;
If I each day remember this,
I’ve learned humility.

If I be gifted any way,
And some acclaim be mine,
Help me, Father, to relay
The plaudits which are Thine.

Without the Breath of God in each,
All lifeless puppets, we;
If this thought dominate my life,
I’ve learned humility!

by Ray Romine Monday, October 4, 1943

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Beauty Found

There is no beauty in existence here:
There is no symmetry, no grace, nor charm,
No thing with which to adequately arm
Against the brutal and the insincere,
But for our faith and hope. They reappear
Like summer flowers on a pleasant farm
That wait all winter so they may disarm
The ugly environs with their colored cheer.

Yes, hope, that lifts our eyes to Him above;
And faith, that holds them always there;
Both make it possible for truth and love
To walk the earth, victorious everywhere.
All things shall fail us as we onward plod,
Unless, at times, we turn our hearts to God.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 18, 1944

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Assistant

All by myself
I cannot do
All of the things
God wants me to.

But hope and faith
Can do each task–
For God will help,
If I but ask.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 31, 1954

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A Small Sermon In Free Verse

Today,
In our uptown “Church-section”,
I went to pass
Upon the walk
Two obviously out-of-town
Elderly ladies;

And one, peering up, said,
“How do they ever
Fill them all up?”

Well, lady,
I hate saying it–
But they don’t
Fill them all up,
At least very often.

But think of all the sacrifice,
And think of the toil,
And all the money,
And the sweat,
And all the vision;
And most of all, the Faith
It took to build just ONE.
Of all these churches.

If our hearts resembled,
Even faintly,
The hearts of those whose very lives
Made those churches
So we today
Might go and worship
As we feel the urge,
They’d be filled and overflowing
Every Sunday.

But, they’re not filled–
At least very often.
But I am filled
With admiration
For the good folk
Who built those churches,
Just the same.

I think it’s better to have aimed a little high,
Than fail to function for the lack of aim.

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 27, 1944