Tag Archives: expression of faith



He came with a message of goodwill

which we seem we want to gag,

God saw our deep predicament

we had no hope ahead,

He came to meet us in our need

that we our sins might shed,

“ a little child shall lead them ”

the prophet prophesied;

As he grew up to manhood

it was for our sins he died.

for the words of wisdom

and the love he showed,

they nailed him to that Cross;

it was for you for me for all

he suffered on that tree,

the babe who was Jesus;


set us free.


(by Joan Wilson)

Those things we so regret,
thank you,you bore it all,
“cast your cares upon me”
still that is your call,
still the burden bearer
still the Lamb for Sin,
praise the name of Jesus
glory to my King,
you alone victorious,
let His praises ring!
help me praise you for the thorns
as well as roses Lord,
yet always that sweet fragrance
comes with every dawn
as we meditate with you
here in this sweet retreat,
I thank you Lord for this as well
sat at your mercy seat,
when I’m poor and needy
you comfort and disarm,
and tell me,”I bore it all”
put off your wild alarm.

( Joan Wilson was awarded the title of Faith-Centred Poet of the Year 2018 in the Destiny Poets’ International Community of Poets Annual Awards )


( by Joan Wilson )

Lord, I have tended to worry
as if it were a must,
thank you that you helped
or surely I’d have bust!
You’ve lifted me encouraged me
and given me fresh hope,
where things seemed impossible
you never left me in the darkness to grope,
but encouraged me to
put my trust in you,
in the end I gained the best
because you saw me through,
here I am quite old and grey
yet trusting still
because of that encouragement
every day’s been your day,
you’ve kept a rein on us
that leading and that guiding
“wait,see the Glory and
the Grace of Christ your King”
then we found the wonders
that cause our hearts to sing.




Everything ?
yes everything
by prayer bring all to God
the scary things,
the weary things,
the daily things;
Remember He has been here,
an ordinary man
not a rich exciting one
but one who knows and
can appreciate your problems
of living day by day;
how to earn a crust of bread,
to walk the Saintly way,
it’s easy then to make request
he knows just how it is,
fellowshipping with folk like me
and you,not men of whizz;
When I’m afraid Lord
I will trust in you,
because you’ve walked the walk
your outlook Lord is true,
you died that we might find
forgiveness too,
the one thing that was different
your sinlessness was true!

(  by Joan Wilson )

The Next Generation

( by Joan Wilson)

And Lord we have-they know we care
and in whose love we stand,
they come to us to ask for prayer
knowing we’ll lift our hands,
children are a heritage
and we know that full well,
we don’t want them out of Christ
your home,Lord we foretell,
all the generations
we bring my Lord to thee,
now and in the future
some that we may not see,
unto our children’s children
whatever year they’re at,
we know not when you’ll come Dear One
but we want them too at that,
comfort with the coming of
Jesus Christ our Lord,
Our King our only Saviour
God bring all on board,
stir up the heart strings
of all who hear of thee,
especially these for whom we pray
now and eternally.

As You Love

(by Joan Wilson)

O that I loved as you loved!
not tainted Lord by me,
it seems whatever good I do
is spoilt by what I feel,
the silly irritations
the easy weariness,
that comes upon my body and spirit
though I do want to caress,
and be their help and comfort
yet they must Lord too,
learn how to lean on my God
if they are to come through,
give me springs of water
when I feel dry bereft,
to go that extra little mile
when my own soul is cleft,
give me fresh sight dear Saviour
of thy wondrous love to me,
that I may pass it on, Beloved
as you helped me to see,
whether I am a “leader”
a “helper” or “mate”,
let me be what you want Dear Heart
and not to hesitate.

(“As You Love” poem by Joan Wilson can be found in
the anthology “Morning by Morning”)

Easter Weekend Again

So I survived the weekend without alcohol or drugs,

or buying a half price sofa deal, a fixed price laptop,

75% off carpets and whatever else offer was thrown at me.

What I chose to do didn’t end at 6pm today

or demand 19.9% interest over 3 years

or will wear off by lunchtime.


I chose to celebrate everything that has worth,






and forgiveness

are found at The Cross.

A Home Upon the Hill


I will build a home upon the hill

With windows for every sun

Each room with mountain air shall fill

And night and day will be as one.

Bird song will waken the day

While cicadas lull it to sleep.


The fragrant air so wholesome

With shades of

Eucalyptus, pine and balsam

Will make a confluence

Of every room.


In Spring time flowers will bloom

In Summer the drones will moan

Punch drunk on pure nectar

Teetering to the honeycomb

In Autumn the colours will flow

The world will dance

And fall in a trance

From the crystal shine of the Winter’s snow.


The warbling stream

Will feed an afternoon’s dream

Where the muse will descend

Her song to lend

Our blended song shall delight

The daze of moon blanched nights

The Cross Upon his Shoulders

There was a weight he had to bear

A burden beyond compare 

The predetermined path to death

With every ounce of desperate breath


The cross upon his shoulders lay 

Knowing there’s no other way

To go the course complete the will

Of him whose wrath he could fulfill.


He’ll never walk that road again 

No criminals walk of death sustain

No piercing pain of timber weight

Or jeering crowds of fearful hate


I am convinced and now confess

That on that road of loneliness

The cross upon his shoulder then

Was not the burden carried for men


The Father’s judgment, sins reward

No passing cup, no golden chord

My guilt my shame my sin my death

Jesus carried till his final breath. 


Notes on the disaffection of an Intellectual

We know nothing worth knowing

and were it worth knowing

we wouldn’t even know that

we didn’t know whether or not it was;

Knowledge is the sum of all

the emptinesses gathered in a vacuum,

we articulate acquired knowledge

in the way those blind from birth

might describe colours;

We grasp at phantasms

and draw shapes with our fingers

in the still air of a morning

on a battlefield occupied by silence;

Our role in history is as relevant

as that of dust mites in

the Palace of Versailles.