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nitalinb
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Name: Nita
Gender: Female
Interests: People, both the living and the dead, but especially my kids; Truth, especially that found in the Bible.
Expertise: Knitting, leftovers, English (including grammar---sorry Lydia.)
Occupation: Mom
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/14/2006
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| For those who have enjoyed my poetry, it can now be read at prayerclub.com. Click on poetry>poets>Nita Brainard. There are many new poems from the last year, including "The Will of God," "The Roaring Lion," "Gossip," and others.
Everything worth publishing (and perhaps some that's not) gets put up there, so I won't often post anything here anymore.
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| Worry and Quietness
In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength. Isa 30:15
Two passions that cannot agree
Both try to be a friend to me.
The one more forward often gains
An entrance to my heart and reins.
In her I have no confidence;
I find in her no real defense,
Yet Worry often would pretend
That she's my only faithful friend.
She seems to think she has the power
To save me from each dreaded hour.
She chatters to her heart's delight
And often makes her cause seem right,
But when I've heard her speak at length,
I can't discover any strength
To fight my real or fancied foes,
Nor any balm to soothe my woes.
But Quietness, though very meek,
Has strength while seeming to be weak;
The strength of faith that doesn't talk,
But firmly grips the solid Rock.
In her I have a faithful friend
On whom I really can depend.
She doesn't clamor to be heard,
But points me to the living Word.
Nita Brainard, Feb. 2209
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| My rhyming fits don't produce the sublime poetry of William Cowper, but such as I have, I post. I wrote this today, which means it may still be subject to change, but since it went through many revisions, I am hoping it is done. God Remains the Same Life’s changing scenes make their appeal To my poor, fickle frame, And often change the way I feel, But God remains the same. When circumstances fluctuate, My hopes may rise or fall, But God, unhindered by my state, Is always over all. Though hopes and fears by turns arise To steal my heart away, The truth, without such lows and highs, Abides from day to day. Though prayer may change a lot of things, If God in mercy grant, Despite their fancy reasonings, My fickle feelings can’t. Unaltered by what I may sense, All things are in His hands, And by unflinching providence The final outcome stands. | | |
| If you love both poetry and godliness, you should read William Cowper. He is an absolute delight. This piece of prose is from a letter to Mrs. John Newton, written in August 1781: While the world lasts, fashion will continue to lead it by the nose. And, after all, what can fashion do for its most obsequious followers? It can ring the changes upon he same things, and it can do no more. Whether our hats be white or black, our caps high or low,—whether we wear two watches or one—is of little consequence. There is indeed an appearance of variety; but the folly and vanity that dictate and adopt the change are invariably the same. When the fashions of a particular period appear more reasonable than those of the preceding, it is not because the world is grown more reasonable than it was; but because, in a course of perpetual changes, some of them must sometimes happen to be for the better. Neither do I suppose the preposterous customs that prevail at present a proof of its greater folly. In a few years, perhaps next year, the fine gentleman will shut up his umbrella, and give it to his sister, filling his hand with a crab-tree cudgel instead of it: and when he has done so, will he be wiser than now? By no means. The love of change will have betrayed him into a propriety, which, in reality, he has no taste for, all his merit on the occasion amounting to no ore than this—that, being weary of one plaything, he has taken up another | | |
| A little meditation on Psalm 62 resulted in the following two poems: Once Has God Spoken Once has God spoken Yeah, twice have I heard, That His is the power— It’ writ in God’s word: Trust not in oppression, Trust not in the sword, For power, all power Belongs to the Lord. Unto Him power, Yea, power belongs, And unto Him mercy, And judgement of wrongs. My God is my refuge In Him will I trust. I know He’ll defend me; His judgement is just. I can do nothing. My God is the one; Christ Jesus is able; He speaks, and it’s done. I'll trust Him forever, And trust Him alone. His strength is made perfect; My weaknesss I own. He is not weary, Creator of all, Though man at his strongest Will utterly fall. His strength He will give me, Whose blessing I seek, For it is His glory To strengthen the weak. A Refuge That a refuge we need Is quite certain indeed In this age of such sorrow and strife. Every man has his way His own pain to allay, And to bury the hurts in his life. There is nowhere to hide, Where my soul would abide, But in Christ, who gives comfort and rest. Though men other ways try, Yet they cannot deny That their efforts are vain at the best. Every other defence Is a tottering fence, But the rock of my refuge is sure. A safe harbor He forms In the wildest of storms, And I’m lodged where my soul is secure. They’ll be slain one and all Who would lean on the wall That the world would provide for support, But my soul won’t be moved, For my Savior I’ve proved, And to Him as my stay I resort. Though I’m frailer tha frail, My God never will fail, For His power will never grow dim, And His mercy is great To the ones who will wait, And who anchor for refuge in Him. | | |
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