Flying With Eagles

When eaglets are falling, attempting to fly,

And plummet with speed from the heights of the sky,

With squawking and flapping they cry out in fear –

Alone and so helpless with no help that’s near.

With breath all abated and desperate eyes keen,

Now swooping beneath them a figure is seen:

The plumage of father they feel at their breast –

Their fall is now broken and comes to sweet rest.

With power and grace does the father bird soar,

Above all the obstacles on the earth’s floor;

On strong eagle wings he then bears them on high,

While calming their spirit and hushing their cry.

He knows the small eagles must learn how to fly:

For that is imperative, else they will die –

He then makes a dive giving them a new chance

To strengthen their wings, that their growth may advance.

Surrender and trust are the wings they must use

To persevere on, and to live they must choose:

Beneath the keen eye of their father in flight,

They exercise trust and press on to new heights.

Just so, does our Heavenly Father lead on,

  While guiding our flight toward hope’s healing dawn;

Each obstacle flees before His loving pow’r,

And He stays beside us each day and each hour!

We must trust our Father to bear us on high,

Surrendering all that restricts from the sky;

His power and love can transform all the pain,

 Creating a vessel of infinite gain!

- Keturah

Fellow Slodiers, Wounded

Life’s a battle, fierce and raging- Good and evil troops at war:

Gallant soldiers pressing forward, midst the warfare thick and sore.

Our Commander Chief is Jesus, to His voice we needs must hark,

If we want to claim the vict’ry- triumph at the finish mark!

Why do Christians shoot their wounded who are injured in life’s fray?

How can they say Christ is in them when they shoot and wound all day?

Why do they down-trod the smitten, strike and gash them o’er & o’er?

Their combatants, pained and damaged, stab & wound them yet some more?

Why are fellow-soldiers battered, judged and treated as the foe?

Why, though shell-shocked, does their squadron launch against them, strike a blow?

How can Christians toil as snipers with their cannons, bombs and dirks?

Shooting down fellow combatants - their Commander’s love they shirk.

For the battle’s not a warfare where with flesh and blood we fight,

But the force and prince of evil shall be conquered by God’s might!

Many soldiers are a-dying in the trenches all alone,

Who are broken, torn and bleeding - at death’s door so very prone.

We cannot afford to shoot them, just because they’re bleeding sore-

Though we know not what they’ve suffered, let us love them yet the more;

For our words are just like bullets when shot out with judgment’s fire

And cause wounds of mortal damage, though their situation’s dire.

Our Commander, what would He do, when a broken life He sees?

Would He kick them from the pathway or just walk away with ease?

When a fellow-soldier, wounded, on life’s battlefield we find-

Waste no time to solve pain’s prelude, but just live Christ’ love - be kind.

- Keturah