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Poems by Lori Smith

I was so honored when Lori contacted me and asked if she could submit a few poems. I was so pleased she chose this page to post them on, because they are just beautiful! I'm sure you will agree she is blessed with a gift of poetry - and her love for the Father certainly comes through the following poems. Please take note that all these hold a copyright, so be kind and don't take them without first contacting Lori and asking her permission. If you enjoy these poems and they were a blessing to you, please drop Lori a note and tell her so.

Thank you, Lori, for sharing these beautiful poems!





I Am The Way

I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life,
In the darkness of this world, the only Light.
I am the healer of all earthly pains;
I set prisoners free and let the blind see again;
Only I can save you from your sins and bring peace.
Believe in me and my blessings will never cease.

For you must believe there is no other power
able to save you, even in this late hour.
The only way to the Father is through me.
Just as all things were made through me,
So shall they return.
I have gone to prepare a place for you,
But that place is not yet ready.
You've not yet finished my plan for you.
You must remain faithful and steady
Until I return.
I gave you the mission to spread My Word,
To make sure that everyone has heard:
The only way to the Father is through me.
Just as all things were made through me,
So shall they return.

I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life,
In the darkness of this world, the only Light.
I am the healer of all earthly pains;
I set prisoners free and let the blind see again;
Only I can save you from your sins and bring peace.
Believe in me and my blessings will never cease.

Lori Smith
Copyright 1998



Christian, How Do You Treat Your Houseguest?

Christian, how do you treat your houseguest?
Do you invite him in for tea and then lie down to rest?
Do you invite him over to sup with you at night
Only to seat him in the corner out of sight?
Christian, is this how you treat your houseguest?

Christian, how do you treat your rose garden?
Do you forget the water and let the ground harden?
Do you hide it from others like a priceless treasure,
And then wonder why no one shares your pleasure?
Christian, is this how you treat your rose garden?

Christian, how do you treat your Mom and Dad?
Do you blame them for the hardships you've had?
Do you smile and tell them they're the light of your life,
Only to laugh at them when they're out of sight?
Christian, is this how you treat your Mom and Dad?

Christian, how do you treat your best friend?
Do you break everything and give them to him to mend?
Do you make promises you don't intend to keep
And then wail about the heartaches you reap?
Christian, is this how you treat your best friend?

Then, why, Christian, do you treat your Lord so?
Do you think He'll not know?
He's the houseguest that you invited in,
His Word is your garden, He's your Dad and best friend,
So, why, Oh Christian, do you treat your Lord so?

Lori Smith
copyright 1998



Oh Ye of Little Faith

O, ye of little faith,
Will you never be satisfied?
O, Ye of little faith,
You're a nation in search of a sign.
I've given you signs, if you would but read them.
I've given you warnings, if you would but heed them.
O, ye of little faith,
Will you never be satisfied?
O, ye of little faith,
Have you not seen the tears I've cried
For you; my people, my nation, my land?
Have you not felt my presence, felt my hand
Upon your life, upon your heart?
Did you not hear my promise of a new start?
O, ye of little faith,
Will you never be satisfied?
O, ye of little faith,
I gave you my Son, whom you crucified.
I made Him an atonement for all sin.
How do you repay my most precious gift?
You shed the blood of the unborn innocent.
You condone the sexual abomination.
You let violence rule My nation.
Long before I sent Him, I heard their cry.
I knew how many would have to die.
O, ye of little faith,
Will you never be satisfied?
O, ye of little faith,
Will you forever hide
Your face in the shadow of the quake?
It is time for the righteous to awake.
Fall on your knees, My nation, and repent. Accept into your heart The One I sent.
O, ye of little faith,
Will you never be satisfied?
O, ye of little faith,
I have seen the tears you've cried.
Arise, my children, and sin no more,
And for you I will hold open the door.

Lori Smith
copyright 1998



God's Child

You think no one sees the sacrifices you've made;
The desires and decisions you've delayed,
But I do, my child.
You think no one sees the tears you've cried,
Alone in your bed at night.
But I do, my child.
You think no one knows about your desires;
How you try to ignore the fires,
But I know, my child.
You think no one knows how tired you get;
How easy it would be to just forget.
But I do, my child.

You think I'm too far away to see you;
Too distant to know the truth.
But I'm here, my child.
You think you're not important enough
For my time and attention and love,
But I love you, my child.
You think your burdens are too much;
That I'm too far away to touch.
But I'm here, my child.
You think I don't feel the pain you feel today;
That I don't care enough to take it away.
But I care, my child.

I tell you only on the other side of pain
Can you see the strength you'll gain.
Will you listen, my child?
I never told you there wouldn't be a thorn
With the rose, that you wouldn't feel worn.
Did you listen, my child?
I could give you what you think you need,
but that would only choke the rose with weeds.
Are you listening, my child?
for I care, and I truly know your heart,
Even though you feel it's been torn apart.
I've been listening, my child.

You have to be still and quiet to hear.
You have to try to feel me near.
Are you there, my child?
I know you wouldn't trade your past,
For you've learned lessons that will last.
I've always been there, my child.
To change things would be to change who you are;
To lose the strength you've gained so far.
But you're still mine, my child.
I only promised to give you the strength you need
To fight your battles and kill the weeds.
But you knew that, my child.

Lori Smith
copyright 1998



Count Your Blessings

I settled in one evening to count my blessings,
But I was financially distressed,
All my bills were due and I couldn't find
One thing with which I was blessed.
I decided to pray for my needs instead,
For I know God will provide
If we but only ask.
So I bowed my head and closed my eyes.

I asked God for the money to buy new shoes;
He showed me a woman who couldn't afford socks.
I asked God for paint to paint my house;
He showed me a family living in a cardboard box.
I asked God for a swing set for my son;
He showed me street kids with guns as their toys.
I asked God, "Please, not chicken again this week;"
He showed me a mother searching a dumpster to feed her two boys.

I asked God for more hours at work
Because my paycheck was just too small;
He showed me a Veteran who'd fought for my freedom,
But couldn't find work at all.

I asked God for some more time to myself;
He showed me a child, scared and alone.
I asked God to help me make my truck payment;
He showed me a mother struggling to carry a child and groceries home.
I asked god for new glasses; I was tired of mine;
He showed me a child who was born blind.
I asked God to help my son's speech develop;
He showed me an autistic child locked in his own mind.

I opened new eyes and cried from a new heart.
I vowed to make a fresh start.
I prayed for continuing compassion,
For the means to help my brothers
And sisters all across this great nation.
I prayed for the strength and courage
To spread the Good News to others
And give the gift of salvation.

Lori Smith
copyright 1998

NOTE: This was written before I discovered that my son had autism. Some autistic children are hypoactive (locked inside their own mind) and some are hyperactive, like my son. The veteran is a real person from my former church who was having trouble finding a job at the time.



Shells

I was walking on the beach along the surf,
My head down-cast in my search
Of the large shells that eluded me.
I heard a sound and I looked up to see
A man, bent with age, withered and gray.
He seemed also to be in search of something.
"Old man, are you looking for shells?" I said.
"Yes, and this bag holds everything
I've found," he answered, nodding his head.
I looked inside and could not hide
My surprise at all the treasures he had found.
He saw my empty hands and said with a frown,
"You're going about this the wrong way;
For shells are like the joys of life, I say.
You spend your life all in strife
If you search for only the large prize.
There are many small ones to be found."
As he spoke, a light seemed to fill his eyes:
He pointed, so I looked towards the ground.
"If you pass them by," he said with a sigh,
"Than you truly have lost the game."
I rose from my search to ask his name,
But the man was nowhere to be found:
There were no footprints and the only sound
Was the surf. I continued my search
With his words still ringing ion my ears.
I thought of what he said and the tears
Began to slowly run down my face.
What of the joys I'd missed in my race
To find my quest?

Lori Smith
copyright 1998

NOTE: I wrote this poem and had it published before David was born. I had the book sent to my mom, as we were getting ready to transfer from Bermuda to Connecticut. The book arrived at my mom's house while I was pregnant. She was planning on bringing it to me when I delivered and she came to see the baby. This poem, maybe more than anything else, helped me to cope with the fact that my baby was born with Down Syndrome, reminding me to take pleasure in the small triumphs that he would make. It's amazing how God gives us the tools we need, before we even know we need them.



Our Line of Communication

Satan attacks within as well as without;
He attacks with innuendo, scorn and self-doubt.
His first objective is our line of communication,
To destroy our satellite link to God.
Then he tries to make the path we trod
Seem too narrow, too perilous, too burdensome. What better way to make it appear
As if God has left us alone?
To convince us that God's Grace has flown
And that our God and Savior is no where near.
We must first protect our satellite link,
Our prayer line, and we must realize
It's 2-way: God hears our cries.
Prayer is often our armor's only chink.
But with God's Word as our shield,
Our satellite link is safe and secure,
Our steps along our path can be sure
As we head onto that battlefield.
So when it seems you're overcome with self-doubt
Know Satan attacks within as well as without.

Lori Smith
copyright 1998



Choose Your Path

God has chosen us and set us apart;
He calls His children to walk by His side:
He writes His Word in our mind and heart;
He calls us to forever abide
With Him, not only when it's convenient,
Not except to avoid ridicule and shame,
Not only at times that we want,
Not just to end prayers in His name.

If you choose to walk through life with God,
You must remove both feet and be brave;
For the ground those of the world have trod
Leads no where but to the grave.
You must take that leap of faith and choose
To gain strength from One willing to give.
For God would not allow you to lose
Your life except that you may live.

Do you still have one foot in the grave?
Do you walk the fence and depend
On a loving God from your sins to save?
Do you ignore the One He did send?
You can't serve two masters;
You can't walk with God when you have
One foot walking with disaster.
You must choose just one path.

Lori Smith
copyright 1999



Here's a poem I just remembered having. It's not a "Christian" poem exactly. I wrote it for my son, shortly after a woman lead her daughter away from my son and wouldn't let her play with him in a public park.

MY ANGEL

Do you feel the sting, my son,
Of the words spoken behind your back?
They ignore the things you've done
And concentrate on all the things you lack.
Do you feel the stares, the separation?
Do you understand the things they're saying?
Do you understand the discrimination,
Or are you more interested in playing?
You're a bigger person than me, it seems.
The words I hear make it into my heart.
They bring me down and dampen my dreams,
But they bounce off you, leaving no mark.
I bring the discrimination home with me;
I try to hide it in the tears of the night,
But then you turn that winning smile on me
And blind my fears with your sun so bright.
I worry for nothing and fret over naught.
I should be learning from your innocence.
The battles you've won, not knowing you've fought,
The way you cross those barriers and fences.
I have learned to cherish the little milestones
And I've learned tolerance, patience and love.
God let me bring an angel home,
And the rest must be missing you up above.

Copyright Lori Smith, 1998