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The Dash

Wherefore does a baby cry,
        His tummy filled, his pants are dry,
A warm embrace in Mother's arms,
        And so his needs are met.

Wherefore does a child play,
        In sunny days of merriment.
No thoughts of future or of past.
        In bliss his monents spent.

Wherefore does a man conspire
       To build a permanent empire,
Made with sweat, blood and tears
       Counting down the years.
Wherefore does an old man rest
       In hope that he has done his best.
The sum of his successes
       In a dash upon his stone.
Therefore, we should  recognize
       The warning given to the wise;
Eternal life in Christ alone,
       Not just a dash upon a stone.

If you had all the answers,
       Would you give your heart to God?
If you knew how the world was wrought,
       Or why the holy wars were fought,
              Is there hell and is it hot,
                     Does it matter, or does it not?
If you could have a miracle,
       Would you then believe?
If you could see a lame man walk,
       Or you could hear a deaf mute talk,
              Or see water come from a rock,
                     Would you still rudely mock?
If Jesus came to your house,
       Would you worship Him as Lord?
If you could see Him face to face,
       And taste of His amazing grace,
              Would you then all doubt erase,
                     And His great love embrace?
If you knew all there was to know,
       Would you have any faith?
Or would your heart be hungry still,
       That emptiness inside to fill,
              Not knowing this, your only ill:
                     You do not know His will.


Betrayal is the kiss
          That Judas gave in vain.
How it must have hurt Him!
          O, how deep the pain!

More than the nails
          And the lashes of the whips.
Naught can be more cutting
          Than the weapons of the lips.

And how can one unsay
          The words that tear apart?
Or mend a broken spirit,
          And heal a broken heart?

A little understanding
          Goes a long, long way.
But a cruel, unbridled tongue
          Will drive a friend away.

No need for worldly wisdom
          Or advise of careless men.
Just a Word of Promise
          From a true and faithful friend.
How Little, How Much

How little does a person need to know
       To have the gift of life so freely giv'n?
To taste of life's redeeming crimson flow,
       An enter into God's eternal heav'n?For scarcely has a smaller seed been sown
       That brings a greater harvest to mankind
When taken to a heart of fallowed ground
       And not only unto the carnal mind.
For worldly wisdom cannot comprehend
       The blessings that the humblest faith can see,
Nor pious theologians understand
       Without a humbled heart and bended knee.
Forget about your vain philosophy
       And empty scribblings of those who are dead!
Repent and give your heart to God and see
       That Jesus is alive just as He said!
When the Fruit  is Gone

There is no Love in lying,
          In slander and in hate.
There is no Joy in cruelty
          Imposed upon your mate.
No Peace among you children
          When you tear apart your life.
Long-suffering is reality
          In an atmosphere of strife.
All Goodness seems to vanish
          When the faithful become fools.
And Meekness is a masquerade
          When tyranny rules.
Who can ask for Temperance
          When your life's out of control?
And Kindness just a token
          To a bruised and hurting soul.
And Self-control and madness
          Cannot tell each other apart.
And marriage without all these
          Is a failure from the start.
The Memory

The memory is a shallow thing that isn't always fair.
       A fickle friend and enemy that doesn't really care
That it may not be accurate in all it may reveal,
       And bring up things that hurt you, and cause you not to heal.Its scales are never accurate of good times and of bad,
       Of things that make you happy, of things that make you sad.
Of kind words that are spoken by a very special friend,
       Or hasty words of anger that brought it to an end.
Of golden days of summer's sun, or winter's darkest day.
       Of happy times of days gone by, or destiny's dismay.
It seems to hold us captive to the painful things of life.
       Of loved ones gone, of things undone, of misery and strife.No wonder God has warned us to forget that which is past,
       To press in to the Promises of victory at last,
When we shall know as we are known and everything is clear,
       And God shall heal our broken hearts and wipe away each tear!
Song of the Selfish

What friend have I today? 
       Not he who just passed by,
And met me with a tursid smile
       And flattered with a lie.
I know that he does not like me
       I shall not even try!
              He hurt me once before,
                     My friend he is . . .no more.
What friend shall I call up?
       Not he who never calls,
And when he does he doesn't let me
       Have a word at all!
I know that he does not like me
       The writing's on the wall!
              He used me once before,
                     My friend he is . . .no more.
What friend shall I invite?
       Not they whose wealth is great.
I've seen how snobbish they can be
       And snobbery I hate!
I know that they do not like me,
       These friends will have to wait!
              They snubbed me once before.
                      My friends they are . . .no more.
What friends shall I support?
       Not they who are so poor.
If I should have to help them once
       I'd have to help them more!
I know that they do not like me
       There's simply no rapport!
              I helped them once before.
                     My friends they are . . . no more.
What friends shall comfort me?
       Not they who criticize
And judge me for the way I live
       And think they are so wise!
I know that they do not like me,
       They cannot sympathize!
              They judged me once before.
                     My friends they are . . .no more.
What friends do I have left?
       I wonder where they went?
I guess I'll have to be alone
       Until they all repent!
I know that they are not like me,
       It's very evident!
              I've been alone before.
                     My friends there are . . .no more.
The Wayfarer

We travel through a strange and barren land
       Unto a kingdom that we cannot see.
We do not grope as blind men in the dark
       Nor wander on our pathway aimlessly.
We have a Word of Promise from our God
       Who makes our perilous pathway safe and sure,
Who knows the rocky path that we have trod,
       And bears the burden that we may endure.
It is a narrow path at distance shown.
       But when we taste its pastures green and wide,
We gladly leave behind all we have known,
       And follow, The Good Shepherd by our side.
And when into death's valley we descend,
       There is no darkness He does not dispel.
For with our risen Lord we will ascend
        And leave behind the ravages of hell.
Don't pity us in all our trials there,
       Although our burdens seem so ominous,
The weight of them is naught to be compared
       To the weight of glory soon revealed in us!
The Old Man

What are you doing back?
       I thought you were gone?
              I left you there beneath the sea
              You have no fellowship with me
       Your time here is done.
What are you doing here?
       I thought you were dead?
              I'll have no part of your dark night
              Now I am walking in the light
       A new life instead.You say your grip is strong?
       You have no hold on me.
              My life is under His own blood
              And when you come in like a flood
       I have the victory!
Why tarry you hereby?
       Your path I will not trace.
              My eyes are looking straight ahead
              And by the Spirit I am lead
       Until I see His Face!
Friendship's Resurrection

What keeps us apart, whose love should all transcend?
       Who shared such sacred bonds we thought would never end.
Who walked side by side in friendship's fragrant flowers
       And spent those careless days amid loves pleasant bowers.

Has God ordained it so, that kindred souls should part
       And end the precious flow and break the trusting heart?
And quench the kindling fires of friendships old and strong,
     And quiet laughter's joy, and silence friendship's song?

Is faith in God alone the pattern He has planned,
     Detached from one another without a helping hand?
Or has He not instructed us to love each other true,
       And bear each other's burdens, and see each other through?

Who ever laughed alone without a friend close by,
       Or known true happiness without a time to cry?
Or seen the new spring flowers without a time of rain,
       Or known true friendship's love without a time of pain?

Let's cast down all the walls built up by foolish pride,
       Humble ourselves to God and let His love inside.
And put the past behind us - let's forget and let's forgive.
       Let's put to death the "old man," and let this friendship live!
Winning Love

Can you do what God cannot,
     And make somebody love you?
Force your will on someone else?
     That's not love in my view.

You have to win a person's heart;
     The prize is worth the winning.
And you will cross the finish line
     With God at the beginning.

Our God does not threaten us,
     But with His Spirit woos us
And brings us to repentance and
     Relationship with Jesus.

And as we listen to His Word,
     And go to him in prayer,
We will know just what to say
     To show them that we care.

We wrestle not with flesh and blood,
     Nor in our strength prevail.
For God can do what we cannot;
     His Love will never fail!
Living By Emotion

If you live by your emotions, you live out of control.
       Following every feeling that comes into your soul.
Defensiveness and fear are the dictators of your fate,
       Protecting your emotions with anger and with hate.

The devil will deceive you if you walk the soulish way.
       Living in carnality you lead yourself astray,
Heeding every angry thought and self-promoting plan,
       Unwittingly antagonizing God and every man.

Falling to temptation to consume upon your lust,
       Hurting those who love you, who fall victim to their trust.
You say things forbidden that cannot be unsaid,
       Laying waste to peace and love, choosing hate instead.

Bearing fruits of wickedness that show the hate within,
       All this from the choices made to follow after sin.
Fear and anger motivating every choice you make,
      Determining your future and every path you take.

Walking in the Spirit never was the easy way.
       "Deny yourself, take up your cross," is what we hear Him say.
He walked in the Spirit and they hung Him on a tree.
       The ultimate example was set for you and me.
No Life

Nothing to say,
      Nothing to give.
Nothing to offer,
       No  life to live.
No thought worth telling,
       No word to say.
No hand extended,
       Nothing to pray.
No sign of Godliness,
       No hope to share.
No verse of scripture,
       No loving care.
No faith believing,
       No looking up.
No Bread of fellowship,
       No blessed Cup.
No life eternal,
     No blessed call.
Life without Jesus
       Is no life at all.
Ode to Augustine

Augustine Haugland, a man of distinction.
       His life was a story of great dedication.
He tirelessly made it his life's occupation
       Artistically rendering God's own creation.

He spoke with an accent so jolly and fun,
       Although he swore he had little or none.
He had crystalline eyes and silvery gray hair
       And an old dark blue suit that he wore everywhere.

With the squint of his eye and the stroke of his hand
       He traveled abroad more than many a man.
From the New England farms to tropical sands,
       From the white Rocky mountains to the Holy Lands.

He sailed luxury boats and rode the wild horses.
       Took to the seas and charted his courses
To the miniature world of Rollypog Land,
       And those three little bugs, Diddle Doodle and Dan.

And none ever carved with more reverence than he
       A portrait of Jesus at Gethsemane.
And the very Last Supper of Jesus Our Lord,
       In intricate puzzles of exotic wood.

Oh Gus was a master, though fame never found him,
       His fame reached to heaven and to those around him.


Augustine Haugland    1890 -1964.  My Grandfather, art instructor and friend.  Drawings were done entirely from memory.
His lunch was a puff, a slurp, gnaw and a chew.
       For a man with no teeth, 'twas the best he could do,
'Til Nana would bring to him after a while
       His Norwegian lunch in her New England Style.

He ate lutefisk sandwiches, sardine fillet,
       Caraway cheese and French rolls made that day.
And parts of the beef you would scarce think to eat,
       With a shot of Tabasco sauce, oh what a treat!

Topped with Nana's prize pie. He once sampled the crust!
       "Nasty old stinka!" she said in disgust.
Email Lon Haverly@hotmail.com