My Source of Power

Sometimes, although we hate the act
We do it anyhow
Too weak to stand on our own strength
I guess it goes to show
If we rely on human power
We are doomed to fall
God, walk me through my weakest hour
Be my All in all

Forgive me for my foolish stumbles
Victim of my pride
You give grace Lord, to the humble
And for all, You died
Lord be in me, Lord, shine through me
Take away my sin
Mend this broken sinner, Lord
Oh, make me whole again

Sometimes when I can’t feel You, Lord
Or you seem far away
Help me to find my way to You
Teach me how to pray
Through You I can be strong enough
Within my weakest hour
For Your arm is long enough
To be my Source of power

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Janet Martin

Why boastest thou thyself in mischief,
O mighty man?
The goodness of the Lord endureth continually. Ps.52:1

This Side of Heaven

On this side of heaven there will always be trouble
On this side of heaven we toil and we sweat
Sorrow and heart-ache will each have its moments
Hurtful misgivings and painful regret
Faithful words from the Garden of Eden
Cursed is the ground on this side of Heaven

Here we must work midst the thorns and the thistles
Here we must bear the fruit of our sin
But oh, what sweet hope rests in every believer
In spite of our labor, there is victory within
Peace through the power of His great promise given
We will not stay on this side of Heaven

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Janet Martin
Genesis 3:17-19 (New International Version)
17 To Adam he said, "Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, 'You must not eat of it,'
"Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
18 It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
19 By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground,
since from it you were taken;
for dust you are
and to dust you will return."

Scars and Souvenirs

She keeps her scars like souvenirs
Locked inside a vault of tears
Reminder of a by-gone year
That taunts her now and then
And in this dark and dim recess
They play a tortured game of chess
Which will steal her happiness
If she feels glad again?

One day amidst the cruel assault
Of memories locked inside this vault
Attacking her with blame and guilt
She fell upon her knees
And there in brokenness and tears
She cried out to the God who hears
There He took her souvenirs
In answer to her pleas

He held out a tender hand
So that she could understand
The depth of love in this great Friend
And then she saw His scars
These the offering a King
Souvenir of suffering
Scars of love so we may bring
Our burdens to His arms

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Janet Martin

Don't be afraid; just believe. Mark 5:36

Love Hurts

Love is patient, love is kind
Love to others is not blind
Love puts others, not self first
And love’s not love until it hurts

Love is pleasure, love is pain
Love’s a treasure in the rain
Love is not a sweet dessert
Oh love’s not love until it hurts

Love is smiling through our tears
Love is trusting through our fears
Hidden blooms beneath life’s dirt
Love’s not love until it hurts

Love is not fleeting attraction
It’s a thought lived out in action
Pick yourself up from the dirt
Cause it’s not love until it hurts

Holding close and letting go
It’s a constant ebb and flow
Raging fire to quench my thirst
Loving, loving ‘til it hurts

High up on a lonely hill
Crying Father not my will
Putting every sinner first
Loving, loving ‘til it hurt

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Janet Martin Aug. 2009

Read 1Cor. 13

No More Need

No more need of goats and bulls,
Set the masses free,
No need for blood of animals,
There nevermore will be,
Oh, look upon that perfect Lamb,
A final sacrifice,
For all the blood of goat or ram
Could never pay sin’s price

It is finished, it is done,
His mission is complete,
Look upon God’s only Son
With bleeding hands and feet,
Break your altars, burn them down,
Your offerings you won’t need,
See the brow with thorny crown
On roughened timber bleed

Open up the pasture gates
And let the bullock roam,
The perfect Lamb in Heaven waits
To draw each sinner home,
So look upon the empty cross,
Behold the barren grave,
No more need for sacrifice
For only He can save

By Janet Martin All Rights Reserved