Life can Seem Ungrateful

by Anne El Abdullah

Life can seem ungrateful,





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Christian Spiritualist Church

Independent Church

STAR OF THE EAST HALL

EVERY MONTH we are happy to publish contributions from readers and members of the congregation. If you would like us to publish something you've written, please send (.pdf or .doc preferred) to :

starofeast@icloud.com

Welcome to the Poems page

It Begins with Us

by L.R. Knost


Here's to the bridge-builders, the hand-holders, the light-bringers.

Those extraordinary souls wrapped in ordinary lives who quietly weave threads of humanity into an inhumane world.

They are the unsung heroes in a world at war with itself.

They are the whisperers of hope that peace is possible. Look for them in this present darkness.

Light your candle with their flame - and then go.

Build bridges.

Hold hands.

Bring light to a dark and desperate world.

Be the hero you are looking for.


Peace is possible and it begins with us.

Baking a Cake

A little boy was telling his Grandmother how 'everything' is going wrong at school, in his family and with health things etc. Meanwhile Grandma is baking a cake and asks him if he would like a snack, which of course he does.

'Here, have some cooking oil.'

'Yuck, no,' says the boy.

'How about a couple of raw eggs?'

'Gross Grandma!' cries the boy.

'What about some flour then, or maybe some baking powder?'

'Grandma, those are all yucky!' says the boy.

To which the Grandmother replies,' Yes, all those things seem bad in themselves but when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake. God works the same way.'

Many times we wonder why he would let us go through bad and difficult times, but God knows that when he puts those things together, they always work  for good. We just have to learn to trust for eventually they will all make something wonderful.

A Child of Mine

by Edgar Albert Guest


I will lend you, for a little time,

A child of mine, He said.

For you to love the while he lives,

And mourn for when he's dead.

It may be six or seven years,

Or twenty-two or three,

But will you, till I call him back,

Take care of him for Me?

He'll bring his charms to gladden you,

And should his stay be brief,

You'll have his lovely memories,

As solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,

Since all from earth return.

But there are lessons taught down there,

I want this child to learn.

I've looked the wide world over,

In search for teachers true.

And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,

I have selected you.

Now will you give him all your love,

Nor think the labour vain,

Nor hate me when I come

To take him home again?

I fancied that I heard them say,

'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'

For all the joys Thy child shall bring,

The risk of grief we'll run.

We'll shelter him with tenderness,

We'll love him while we may,

And for the happiness we've known,

Forever grateful stay.

But should the angels call for him,

Much sooner than we've planned.

We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,

And try to understand.