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Does God really know what I am doing? In Heaven, are they concerned about my burdens, my problems? Do they respond to what I do?

  Written in a small airport in the wee hours of the morning while thanking God for my friends. A friend is one who understands

  Oh, a friend is one whose presence Is a happy holiday, And some minutes spent together Beat vacations far away. One whose handclasps for

It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting in a Holiday Inn on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in the Tampa-St. Petersburg,

Someone very dear to me who had been my friend for years launched a brief but fierce attack my way. I could not believe he

It was the week after Dave had been married. It was easy to cry. It was difficult to go into his room. It was also

A “Sermon in Poetry” as given by Pastor Jack Hyles to his “people” at their annual Thanksgiving service on November 26, 1987. This poem is

  Our love began when we were young – footloose and fancy free; We courted ‘cross the Lone Star State – just dear Joe Boyd

When I was a little boy, my mother used to embroider a great deal. I would sit at her knee and look up from the

  I love Thanksgiving when we pray, And July 4th and Labor Day With picnics, ants, and hungry flies, And barbecue and hot French fries,

One day the load was especially heavy and the burdens were many. I had so many appointments that night and to be quite frank, I

I am an idea. I came to visit your mind. You held me for a moment and planned to capture me. You told me to