Poems

HOW CAN IT BE

Of everything made He is the arranger, yet He was born a babe in a manger.

"God With Us" our Savior and Friend, yet a Stranger

Who is in us and with us in good times or danger.

How can He be God and with God when there is only one God?

Be a man we can understand and the Lord we can laud?

How can One Who's eternal die on a cross?

One Who owns everything take such a loss?

Yet I know that for all of humanity, even for me,

He gave all of Himself. Yes even for me!

How can it BE?

How CAN it be?

HOW can it be?

                               --Mack Hoover 2/3/07--

Open my eyes, that I may see

Glimpses of truth Thou hast for me;

Place in my hands the wonderful key

That shall unclasp and set me free

Silently now I wait for Thee,

Ready my God, Thy will to see,

Open my eyes, illumine me,

Spirit divine!

                              --Clara H. Fiske Scott,1895--

HUMILITY

--Proverbs eighteen twelve B--"...before honor is humility."
What was old Soloman saying when he said such an outrageous thing?
Isn't it about heroes not milk toast men most of the minstrels sing?
It's the honorable soldiers get the medals; it's the brave hearts not the weak.
We encourage courage and honor, but of humility hardly speak.
Webster gives humility one line, but to honor gives about nine.
Why is something so hard to have so easy to define?
Why does Jesus give it such credence? Why was Moses the most humble man?
It may be that it is a critical part of God's eternal plan!
Do we really mean it when we begin a discourse with:
"In my most humble opinion"... OR
Are we really saying: "Just shut up and give me the floor!
You must honor my honorable position!"
Do I really need to say more?
Except that: "What was that other thing Soloman had to say?"
"Before destruction the heart of a man is haughty." --Proverbs eighteen twelve A--
                               --Mack Hoover, 12/09/06--

BECAUSE HE LIVES

What if Jesus had not risen and the grave were still His prison?

Then preaching life would have no reason, without spring and summer season,

With only winter after fall. There would be no joy at all, no comforter on Whom to call,

No One to lift me when I fall.

I often think of why I'm here and why my death I should so fear,

And why these inner voices hear, and why is my existence dear?

It has to be that Christ arose or thoughts like these I'd never pose.

The door of life would surely close. No, I'm alive because He chose

To take my place and bear my guilt upon the cross that I had built.

So I may bloom and never wilt, he took my judgment to the hilt.

My penalties each one He's taken into the grave which He's forsaken.

Death's prison walls He has shaken Because He lives we will awaken

On resurrection morn!

This the reason I was born: to offer hope to the forlorn,

My life with love and joy adorn!

--Mack Hoover, July 2005--

Because He lives I can face tomorrow.

Because He lives all fear is gone.

Because I know, I know He holds the future

And life is worth the living just because He lives!

--William. Gaither, 1976--

PARK WHISTLERS

I love the song of the meadowlark and the chatter of the chickadee.

But the whistle player in the park is the sound that really reaches  me!

The birds that know a song or two are content with what they know.

But a pipers repertoire will never do with so few...it has to grow!

With simple tunes he's not content. In just one key he's unfulfilled

Till all his hard earned cash is spent. Till every cut and roll he's trilled;

Till hornpipe, jig, and reel he's learned; till every whistle he has played;

His audiences' awe he's earned, and end of sessions he has stayed.

I'd not be you o meadowlark or perch your twig o chickadee.

I am content to play the park, and hear the pigeons lauding me.

Mack Hoover 12/31/2000

ADRIFT ON A BEACH

I walk on a beach and just beyond reach are places my mind takes me to.

The distance I eye, where sea touches sky, my feet are where wave touches sand.

One part of me on the ocean, and one part of me tied to land.

Across the great sea my mind carries me, though in body I'm here where I stand.

Like the gull I'm free o'er the ocean; but like sea shells I'm caught on the sand.

Someday without fail with wind in my sail across the great sea I will go.

Ahead I will tack and never look back! The way the Almighty has planned.

To be free on heaven's great ocean; and just as free on heavenly land.

                              Mack Hoover 1/23/2001

THE SHIP'S BELL

Patterned in wood, molded in sand,  founded by the Admiral's demand

It rang pure and true, clear and loud- there by the helm- bright and proud;

Announcing the time, sounding alarms,  calling the crew to prayer or to arms.

Many a battle it had survived,  to many a port it had arrived.

But one fated day with cannonballs flying,  doom and destruction, wounded and dying

Heard its last chime. It went down with the ship.   Its very last chime, its very last trip.

But there on the sea floor's salty environ  it didn't decay like wood planks and iron.

Though silent, alone and very encrusted.  In a pure alloy the founder had trusted.

Its metal was pure, its maker was sure  even a watery grave would endure.

One day it was raised from mire and sand  and mounted again on a beautiful stand.

All who pass by can see it reshined,  because its metal was truly refined.

All hear it ring in its purest tone,  though all those years it was silent, alone.

Don't despair, don't declare that all hope is lost!  The Founder made sure He'd covered the cost!

Don't worry that you might never be heard,  you are engraved with the Master's own Word

On the finest of metal, perfect and fine!  You are a bell of the Master's design.

                                         Mack Hoover 11/14/2000

TIMELY TREASURE

Long it had lain in the pawn shop case  awaiting its owner's return.

Dust covered its golden face. Its hands had long ceased to turn;

Its works long since were still. Priceless but useless needing concern

Its purpose in want to fulfill. Hard circumstance had prompted the loan.

The redemption price long since was spent. The broker was certain to make it his own

Unless someone paid what was lent and also the brokers unattainable rate.

He wouldn't reduce his fee by a cent. Thus seemingly sealing its fate.

Yet Someone was watching with infinite care, Who knew the true value and worth

Of this abandoned unredeemed ware. His aim was to give it new birth.

He would pay whatever the cost! He would employ Heaven and earth

In order to rescue the lost. The Redeemer came and lay down the price,

Infinitely more than was fair. He paid it in full with true sacrifice,

And took it from that dismal lair, And by His loving hand was rewound;

Was polished and set with true loving care-That beautiful treasure He'd found.

Mack Hoover, 9/1/03-