Poems and Short Features


Miracles of the Master

 He taught in Israel long ago;
His words were profound and true.
Great things he did in his ministry;
Still greater he will do.

He fed the multitudes, healed the sick,
Turned water to choicest wine.
He claimed a special relationship:
His Father was Divine.

He walked on water and stilled the waves,
Gave sight to the man born blind
and strength to one who was impotent.
The Master's deeds were kind.

The common people beheld his works
And quickly the news was spread:
The wonder-worker from Galilee
Could even raise the dead!

The haughty Pharisees felt alarmed.
With anger their hearts were filled
Against this Jesus of Nazareth:
They schemed to have him killed.

 Though there were many that needed help,
His miracles touched but few;
And for himself at dark Calvary
No wonders did he do.

Why did the Master do mighty works?
So faith could lay hold and grow
As he unveiled his Messiahship
To those who longed to know.

While many came for the loaves and fish
Or hoping they might be healed;
Both then and now, to his followers
The deep things are revealed.

These see him near on life's stormy sea.
In him, they find peace and rest.
He meets their needs so abundantly,
Providing what is best.

Their earthen vessels with precious truth
Are filled to the very brim.
Transformed, they focus on Heavenly things
And strive to be like him.

Soon, in the Kingdom, these faithful ones
His glory and work will share:
The human race to regenerate
And God's great love declare.

So often done on the sabbath day,
Christ's wonders a glimpse provide
Of that grand time of Millennial rest
With greater works worldwide!

Elaine L. Redeker

“I That Speak Am He”

She came, the thirsty one, to fill her pitcher,
     And found a stranger sitting on the brink;
And while she poured for him the well’s refreshment,
     He gave the precious cup of life to drink.

And when she wondered at her life’s revealing,
     And if Messiah deeper depths could see,
He graciously her rising faith encouraged,—
     “I that speak to thee am He!”

And so when we, blest Master, come all empty
     To fountains, we but drink, and drink in vain;
Be thou with satisfying waters waiting,
     That we may drink, and never thirst again.

Our wayward hearts’ true inwardness disclosing,
     Constrain our timid faith to hope in thee,
And let us hear again the gracious message—
     “I that speak to thee am He!”

They turned him from the synagogue accursed,
     Whose gift of sight the Savior had bestowed;
And, burning under grief and indignation,
     He sought again the well-remembered road.

And while he mused upon his kindly patron,
     And if he could indeed Messiah be,
Lo, One with beaming countenance addressed him,
     “I that speak to thee am He!”

And so, dear Lord, when our dim eyes are opened,
     And one-time friends thy healing power despise,
Be thou anear with words of cheer and comfort,
     To grant our saddest hour a glad surprise.

And when life’s subtle mysteries perplex us,
     Unlock to us with faith’s unfailing key,
That we may hear from out the open portals,
     “I that speak to thee am He!”

The proud and haughty still a sign requiring,
     In vain the zenith and horizon scan,
While walks among them One with vesture girded,
     To wield the purging and discerning fan.

But he who humbly treads the path of duty,
     With eyes unsealed shall his Deliv’rer see;
His trial hour shall brighten with this token—
     “I that speak to thee am He!”

—R. B. Henninges (Reprints, p. 2646)

“He loved them to the uttermost.”
—John 13:1, Wuest

Dear Brother John. He was there from raising of the little maid, to cloud of glory that descended to engulf that vision of the Master’s face that shone upon the mount. Dear John was there! How many times had he reflected on those scenes, nor did he ever tire of their retelling.

Now he is old. Other disciples of Jesus have ended their course. Soon he must go too, and he is prompted to write down the things he remembers with special appeal. Three gospel accounts already enriched the church’s fellowship. John knew he needed not repeat, save but in part, their precious testimony. His would be an anecdotal recollection affording deeper glimpses of that sacred time of earthly walk when that dear Master shared with those he loved. John laid no special claim to the Master’s love beyond the rest. He knew that Jesus loved them all. Yet it was with a sense of awe he found himself included among that privileged company of loved ones. He could not help but describe himself with wonder at the thought, “the disciple Jesus loved.”

Attempting to describe that holy fellowship to that last meal together, and the sacred conversation that ensued among the olive trees, he sums up all with words so deeply felt: “He loved them to the uttermost” — “loved them to the end.”

Much time has passed, but memory only deepened the appreciation of mind so full of that same spirit of his Lord. Now, as he records each moment with vivid recall, a holy smile passes over his face, broken only by moments of sweet and sacred serious thoughtfulness, betokened by the tear, whether of joy, sorrow, or the combination of both, he knew not. Fellowship with the Lord was deeper now even than in those days of physical contact.

There was no question of the Master’s joy in the company of that little band of unknowns, but now could John recall with greater awareness those looks that betrayed in the Master’s visage a depth of feelings which he could not fully share with even these he tenderly described as his “little flock.”

The Master’s words he hears again, the words of life in which great depths of truth were stored compressed, for none at first can fully bear the burden of such glory themes as these. Gleams of eternal blessedness shone forth as through the veil now by the spirit rent sufficient for that glimpse of glory there, where stood the Lamb before the throne of God.

Dear John. How gratefully we praise the Lord who changed this son of thunder to his instrument of grace, and prompted him to pen for us these sacred memories. With deepest thankfulness we ponder still John’s words, indulging in the holy light they shine upon our path: “That life made manifest we know, that life belonging to another realm we share with you, that with us down the age each saint may share that joy, that love, that will not let us go.”


—Donald Holliday

The Purpose of Miracles

Not until we shall experience our “change” and know as we are known shall we be able to fathom all the mysteries connected with the miracles of Jesus and the miracles which we see in ourselves and all about us today. . . .

Miracles were necessary for the introduction of the Gospel message to identify our Lord with the prophecies and to prepare the nucleus of the church for the spirit baptism; but in later years, throughout the Gospel age, the Lord has given his people the opportunity of still greater blessing by withholding the miracles and allowing us to believe in him and to accept him without the attestation of wonders.

One of the greatest wonders, one of the greatest miracles, one that is more convincing to us than any other could be, is the change which the divine message has wrought in our own hearts—transforming us through the power of the holy spirit. Not only do we see this transforming power at work in others, changing them from glory to glory and preparing them for the final glorious change of the first resurrection, but additionally we experience it in our own hearts and appreciate the fact that the things that we once hated now we love, and the things we once loved now we hate. The poet gave the right thought when he exclaimed, “I am a miracle of grace.”

—Reprints, p. 3495