God Won't Play Second Fiddle

Many men believe in God,
Though He's something of a riddle,
And they want Him in their orchestra,
As long as He stays on second fiddle!

He's welcome to come on every trip
For protection, and that's a fact;
As long as He doesn't cramp their style,
And quietly sits in back!

He can be on the team as a substitute,
And be there 'just in case',
But they'd rather keep Him on the bench,
As long as THEY can stand the pace.

But a back seat is no place for Him!
The heavens are His throne!
And He'll not be a substitute;
He MUST be Number ONE!

He can make the music of the spheres
To swell within your heart,
But He'll NOT play second fiddle;
He'll be your All, but not a part.

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If a Beckoning Light

Perhaps, to seek to never know a pain,
To live in light of dimly burning lamp,
And world of troubles never to regain,
Is better than a tomb of dark and damp.
If one has not a beckoning of light
Beyond the grave, the darkness to dispel,
And drive away the unknown fear called 'night',
Perhaps in 'limbo' it is better then to dwell.
But when by faith we've once dispersed the dark,
And joy of living, like a day in June,
Makes even death an entrance to a park;
Then, even when life's sun is set, it's noon;
And before us all eternity is spread,
No fear then, should we cut the slender thread.

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