Poetry About Jesus and Salvation 

Poetry by Missionary C.T. Studd

Biography of C.T. Studd at Wholesome Words

Quaint Rhymes for the Battlefield

by C. T. Studd

What could we do without the Book
That God gave us to read?
No more than any farmer
Who hadn't any seed!

No other tells us of our Lord,
The God of grace and love,
Who made the whole creation,
This world and those above.

What could we do were we without
The Gospels or the Acts?
No more than could a barrister
Who didn't know his facts!

Were we without the letters of
John, Peter, James and Paul,
We'd be like some poor cricketer
Without a bat or ball.

If Genesis is humbug,
We must cast into the flames
The Gospels, Acts and Hebrews,
Galatians, Romans, James.

If we should try to live our lives
Without the Book of Psalms,
Our souls would lack the music
Which comforts, cheers and charms.

We couldn't know that God will be
The Judge of all mankind,
By the mere dictates of Reason,
Or the workings of the mind.

We shouldn't know God gave His Son,
To agonise and die,
To save and teach us sinful men
To trust Him utterly.

We shouldn't know Christ rose again—
The proof He was the Lord—
And then ascended up above
To execute His Word.

We ne'er had deemed He'd be the Friend
Of publicans and sinners,
Of prodigals and harlots, not
Of hypocrites nor trimmers.

That ne'er would He to any child
Deny a Saviour's blessing,
And ne'er would turn a soul away,
Who came his sins confessing.

That He Who healed the sick, the lame,
The blind, the deaf, the dumb,
And raised the dead, by touch or word,
Would beg us all to come

To Him, that we might be forgiven
And made the heirs of God,
Divorced from fear of death and hell,
Warriors of the Lord.

We ne'er had dreamed Salvation is
A gift, and not a wage,
To be received just as you are,
Without the sacred page.

The Bible is a gallery
Of pictures full of life,
A cinematographic show
Of real historic strife.

It warns against temptations
And Satan's savoury messes;
It paints the devil's portrait
In all his fancy dresses.

It's like a cordite rifle
With a telescopic sight,
Preventing those of single eye
From missing, day or night.

It is of heaven's narrow way
The ordnance survey map,
Revealing hell's paved broadway
And every gin and trap.

It gives the words of prophets,
Who courageously denounced
The sins of priests, and princes, and
The Judgment day announced.

It castigates the evil, and
It never screens the good;
It declares that every mortal needs
The Saviour's cleansing blood.

'Tis a history of the godly,
A hymn book for the saint,
A comfort to the dying,
A cordial to the faint.

It prophesies the Coming
Of the Saviour in His might,
To judge the world's inhabitants,
And darkness turn to light.

Be sure, in their originals,
Each word came straight from God;
"Yea! every jot and tittle's true,"
Said Jesus Christ the Lord.

Would you be brave and noble?
Read it every day,
Not as a duty merely,
Nor in a slipshod way.

Divorce yourself from humbug,
And cant and lollipops;
Don't live on milk and water,
Nor sentimental slops.

Don't be like Jackie Horner,
Who when he got a pie,
Picked out a plum or two, and said
"See what a boy am I!"

It's God's own patent medicine,
Take it as it stands;
Treat it as His aide-de-camp,
Bringing Christ's commands.

Mind! you must obey it,
Otherwise you'll be
Branded, as a hypocrite,
Through eternity.

Read it in the morning,
Meditate and pray,
Trust the Lord to keep you
"Straight" throughout the day.

 JESUS ONLY

I'm going to live for Jesus,
And fling the world away,
I'm going to give to Jesus
My life and all to-day.

I've done it, Hallelujah!
And now I pray the prayer
That I may follow "Jesus
Only," everywhere.

I'm such a great big sinner,
And still a bigger fool;
I must keep close to Jesus
And never leave His school.

My heart's so full of rapture,
I know not how to live;
For the joy of being Jesus'
I wish I'd more to give.

I think I'll copy Levi,
Who gave a dinner once,
To give a chance to Jesus
To save another dunce.

Oh, won't it be just "ripping"
To never leave His side,
To walk and talk with Jesus,
And all in Him confide?

There is no Friend like Jesus,
So loving, strong and true,
If I had not His friendship
I don't know what I'd do.

No soul in all creation
Can ever take His place,
But I love all others better,
Since I have seen His face.

Oh! the joy of knowing Jesus,
It takes all care away;
I would so love for Jesus
To fling my life away.

And yet I'd sooner serve Him
On earth, and suffer loss,
Than have a throne in Heaven,
For there, there's not a cross.

I love to fight for Jesus
And every risk to run,
If there was naught of danger
It wouldn't be half the fun.

Such as neglect Christ's ord'nance
To fight in lands afar,
Know not the joy of Jesus
Like those who go to war.

I loved Christ's ordination,
Its grand simplicity;
He asked no abstruse questions,
But only "Lov'st thou Me?"

He asked that once of Peter,
Who'd just denied Him thrice;
Then gave him his commission
To preach His sacrifice.

The Gospel of Christ's salvation
Is, only His blood can atone;
The secret of walking on water
Is to look to Christ alone.

The secret of power is simple,
I must obey God, not man;
It's naught but incredible folly
To adopt any other plan.

Christ commissioned His Spirit
To be Captain of His host;
I need no other guidance
Than that of the Holy Ghost.

He'll brook no interference;
God is a jealous God;
Christ woo'd and won, and bought me,
He only is my Lord.

I'll walk in His blest freedom,
And follow Him everywhere;
I'll trust His word and presence
And fight without a fear.

Some Christians call me foolish,
The world declares I'm "fey;"
I'll wait a little longer
To see what Christ will say.

"He hadn't any talents,
His speech perhaps was odd;
But he did what I commanded,
He rendered all to God."

I'd like to hear Him say that,
Tho' there's little chance of such;
But I don't care a blow for the mud folks throw,
'Cause I'm not like a parson in church.

Some stay at home with good reason
And some without a cause;
But that coward's the worst, who stabs in the back
The man who's gone to the wars.

But Christ was kissed in the garden
By the man who had been His friend;
So some I presume will do the same
Till this world's come to an end.

There are some who when told to go
By the great Physician Himself,
Run off to a fallible medical man
Who puts them on the shelf.

As tho' they know better than He!
Or their words were of greater worth!
They forget that the place where Jesus is
Is the safest spot on earth.

Some want to live too long,
Tho' one cannot die too soon;
A day with the Son is worth millions more
Than a million on earth or moon.

For Jesus is my life,
And death my greatest gain;
Heaven means joy without alloy,
On earth we must have pain.

If we really did believe
The words that Jesus said,
We'd have no fear for the future,
Nor for our daily bread.

Who knows Christ as his Master
Is such a splendid fool;
He leaves an earthly Paradise
And "runs away" to school!

I know very little myself,
But Jesus knows everything;
So merry of soul I laugh and sing
Underneath His wing.

Oh! it's good to belong to Jesus,
It's the only life to live;
It's glorious fun, it's heaven begun,
When you've got no more to give.

Away with hesitation!
Man! take the plunge, and try!
Give heart and all to Jesus!
Then take your wings and fly!

Fly with Christ's salvation
To some dark heathen land;
No cause for trepidation,
Jesus will hold your hand.

JESUS IS OUR MESSAGE!
JESUS SAVIOUR AND KING!
JESUS OUR SOLE COMMANDER!
JESUS IS EVERYTHING!

Come forth, ye men of Britain,
In brave Crusader bands;
Up! let us take possession
Of our Saviour's promised lands.

"CHUTNEY"

CHRISTIAN'S DELIGHT

Now Christ's command is simple,
And meant to be obeyed,
"Go ye and preach My Gospel
In every land," He said.

Christ hadn't any favourites;
He lived and died for all!
So all should know the Message,
And hear His gracious call.

So I'll go and face the music
In some dark far off land,
Where no one's ever been before
For Christ to make a stand.

I'll leave the ninety-nine behind,
And seek the wandering sheep,
To bring it back to Jesus Christ,
And lay it at His feet.

The way may not be easy,
The grub not over good,
The climate may be treacherous,
The men a devil's brood.

But what of that? My Jesus
Suffered torture and the cross
For me the chief of sinners,
Lest I should suffer loss.

It may mean death or poverty,
Or grief-or pain-or shame,
But what of that? The martyrs lived
And suffered just the same.

I wouldn't want to live at all
Unless it was to fight
For Jesus Christ and sinful men,
Morning, noon and night.

And in some fierce, hot battle,
Fighting I'd love to die,
Watching for Jesus' coming,
To carry me home on high.

But when I walk the golden street.
I'll blush a scarlet red,
And hide my face in shame until
The crown drops off my head.

The crown that Jesus won and gave
To His unworthy son,
Who'd done so little, and badly, too,
Even the things he'd done.

And if it won't drop off I'll cast
My crown at Jesus' feet,
Then run and seek the lowest place
Upon the lowest seat.

And then I think I'll weep and weep
Till Jesus dries my eyes,
As I realise at last the depth
Of His great sacrifice.

And that I can't go back to earth,
And have another try
To serve Him better than before,
To suffer and to die.

And then I'll shout with rapture
With all the heavenly host,
"Glory to God, the Father,
The Son and Holy Ghost."

And then the joys of meeting
The loved ones gone before,
And watching for the others
To enter at the door!

My word! what introductions
To all God's family,
And leave to ask them questions
With impunity.

I'll want to hear from Jonah
Of his time inside the fish,
And how John Baptist laughed to see
His head upon the dish.

How Daniel felt descending
Into the lion's den;
What Gideon thought when marching out
With but three hundred men.

What Nebby thought about the three
Who nearly caught a cold,
When thrown into the fire because
They wouldn't worship gold.

And what they felt like when they found
That they had merely come
To have a walk with Jesus,
Who Had just arrived from Home.

We understand that Nebby got
Converted on the spot,
And right away for infidels
Began to make it hot.

We need a few like Shadrach, Meshach,
And Abednego
To pay a little visit now
To Christendom, I trow.

They'd say we were behind the times,
And just as much demented,
As poor old Uncle Nebby was
Before he had repented.

The image then was on the plain,
But now it's come to town,
And has as many votaries
To worship and bow down.

Elijah's thoughts on Carmel
When he faced the mighty throng-
My! how he chaffed the Baalites,
Laughing loud and long.

And what the Apostles felt and thought,
And what the women said,
When first they gazed on Jesus Christ
Risen, from the dead.

The comical grimaces of
Philippi's magistrates,
When they had to beg Paul's pardon
And escort him to the gates.

The thoughts of Simon Peter
When he felt the chains drop off;
And the gates began to open
Like a lion going to cough.

And why poor Rhoda's mistress thought
She'd gone stark, staring mad,
Because she said that Peter stood
Outside the door. Too bad!

The faces of the Sadducees,
When the fishermen declared
In future they'd obey the Lord,
Not men! They must have stared.

For well they knew that Peter
Had so late denied the Lord,
In mortal fear of women, too,
Though neither had a sword.

It must have been as though they saw
A Baa-lamb on its legs;
Deploring their pernicious taste
For eating addled eggs.

Their nonplussed looks, when Peter told
The godless Roman soldiers,
"Kindly crucify me, with
My head below my shoulders."

And when the oil began to boil,
The aspect of the crowd,
As John within began to sing,
And thank the Lord aloud.

In heaven no amusement?
I venture to declare
There's never been such fun on earth
As we shall have up there.

The joy will be without alloy
Within our home above,
A perfect Father's family
And every soul in love.

Enthusiastic service for
A perfect Master too,
And every servant singing,
"I want more work to do."

All hearts will glow with rapture,
As we gaze on Jesus' face,
While we sing the wondrous story,
Of the Father's matchless grace.

WITHOUT EXCUSE 

Our Saviour has given commandment
To such as believe, in their hearts,
To publish the news of Salvation
On earth, to its uttermost parts.

The doors of the world lie wide open;
Its lands have been duly explored;
The sorrows and needs of the heathen
Can only be met by the Lord.

Christians were never so numerous,
Never so wealthy and wise,
Never made bigger professions,
Then why don't we race for the prize?

Have we waxed fat like Jeshurun?
Are our livers or heads over large?
Have we become paralytic?
Or deaf to Christ's summons to charge?

When has the job been so easy?
Peace is enthroned on the earth;
Travel was never so simple;
Of "Dreadnoughts" alone there's a dearth.

How shall we look when our Saviour
Returns in His glory from heaven,
And finds we've refused or neglected
E'en one tribe with salvation to leaven?

If George the Fifth's soldiers or sailors
Were ordered the world to subdue,
They'd hasten abroad in dead earnest
And pluckily dare and do.

Then why should the Soldiers of Jesus
Delay to obey His command?
Come along! Let us tackle the business,
We only need faith and sand.
("sand" is "courage" in the U.S.A.)

Come! Let's stop our vain talk of traditions,
Which nullify God's Holy Word,
And dump all our Christless snobbery
In hell, and then hurry abroad.

Let us cease to do our own pleasure,
Stop hoarding and living at ease;
Let us fight or die to deliver
The folk in the lands overseas.

Let's abolish our tame stonewalling,
And play for a win not a draw;
We must go in for hurricane hitting,
Or we'll lose as we've lost before.

For Christ was a resolute hitter,
And so were Stephen and Paul;
They so warmed the devil's fingers
That he scarce could hold the ball.

They didn't play selfish in those good days,
They played for their side instead;
And they ran such really impossible runs
That the devil quite lost his head.

When a man got out he ran, not walked,
And the man going in ran too;
"What, stop the match for tea!" they cried;
"Bah! cock-a-doodle-doo."

They didn't wear pads or gloves those days,
You just couldn't make them afraid;
And they never stopped to look at the clock
Till the winning hit was made.

Now if we played the game like that,
Do you think we shouldn't win?
Of course we should, and, that being so,
Anything else is sin.

Christ to be sure would go with us;
Christ would see us through;
Christ wouldn't let us falter
Till there's nothing more to do.

So let's settle now and once for all,
To finish our job or die;
We can evangelise the world
If we're men enough to try.

GOD'S D.D.

Old Daniel was a Dreadnought!
If he was here to-day,
He'd make it hot for the pious lot
Who don't do as they say.

He didn't speak behind folks' backs,
But met them face to face;
He called spades spades, and dubbed knaves
knaves,
And always proved his case.

He neither cared for place nor power,
Nor feared the lions' den;
A godly cause will lock the jaws
Of beasts, or jealous men.

Whatever God at any time
Might write upon the wall,
He'd up and say, without delay,
To King and Court and all.

Dan didn't say "Belshazzar, Sire,
Your faults are peccadilloes";
He hit his sin with a rolling pin,
And not with feather pillows.

Dan didn't sugar-coat his pills,
Half doses didn't please him;
To save a life he'd use the knife
And bleed a fool to ease him.

Old Daniel ran a college once
Which turned out three invincibles;
A verse or two will let you know
What things he taught as principles.

Dare to be a Dreadnought,
With purpose true and firm;
Dare to live on simple fare,
And don't become a worm.

Dare to be a Dreadnought,
Dare to beard a King;
Tell him all the truth and don't
Emasculate the thing.

Dare to be a Dreadnought,
Faithful, loyal, bold,
Scorning under any threats
To worship man or gold.

Dare to be a Dreadnought,
Not a dressed up "toff,"
Nor glorified policeman,
Nor gun that won't go off.

Make a bold confession,
Though it means the rod;
Dare to kick the devil hard,
And dare to trust in God.

Only One Life, Twill Soon Be Past - Poem by C.T. Studd

Biography of C.T. Studd at Wholesome Words