D. E. Young

Loved from Eternity


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took her for His own again

      In matchless grace and mercy free.

      Those that rebelled were not His own,

      No mercy could for them be found,

      But He redeemed them for Himself

      And made them stand on holy ground.

      Not only Jews, but others too,

      A wild olive’s fruitless tree,

      Engrafted into covenant

      That unto Him their fruit should be.

      And God shall plant her in her place

      Where she shall grow forever more.

      What love is this bestowed upon

      The weak and wicked, vile and poor?

      Blest be the faithful God of Grace,

      Beyond imagination kind,

      Who paid Himself the awful price

      That He His wand’ring ones might find.

      April 2012

      On Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man

      Look not alone on earth’s bare fruitless span,

      Nor fail the Holy Word in faith to scan,

      Nor unto wretched humanism nod,

      The proper study of mankind is God.

      May 2012

      For Mrs. David Smith, on Her Death at 92 Years of Age

      She honor graciously retains,

      The tribute that to her pertains,

      Of mercy lover, and of truth:

      ‘Tis well your given name is Ruth.

      May 2012

      On the Curse: Thorns and Thistles

      The Scripture says work is accursed.

      I think there’s something to it.

      If bother is the thing you want,

      Most likely, thistle do it.

      July 2012

      Intercession

      As Abraham before besought for Lot Your grace,

      As Moses intervened before Your blessed face,

      As Amos pled for Jacob, because he was so small,

      The images of Jesus, Who pleaded for us all,

      So we in measure tiny when for the lost we pray

      Thus image our Redeemer Who by Himself would pay

      The price of our redemption, to make us sinners good:

      Our privilege and honor, if in the gap we stood.

      August 2012

      A Secret Athlete

      (Honoring Eric Liddell, who would not run on the Lord’s Day for love of his King, against the wishes of his king.)

      I am a secret athlete

      Though no one else might know.

      I have a race to finish,

      Must win, not place or show.

      But unlike other athletes

      I am not strong at all.

      Debilitating weakness

      Is mine since Adam’s fall.

      Though newly recreated

      By Spirit all Divine,

      Yet sin around besets me

      Although new life is mine.

      What hope have I of glory,

      Before His face to stand?

      Just that my mighty Savior

      Upholds me with His hand.

      So though the flesh may bother

      And frailty cling to me,

      I shall arrive in Heaven

      For Jesus strengthens me.

      Eternal weight of glory

      Exceeds Olympic gold,

      And that shall be my story

      When my last day is told.

      August 2012

      Hebrews 2:16

      He does not help the angels

      By strengthening their hands

      As they fly at His bidding

      Or follow His commands.

      He gives help to His people,

      Descendants of His friend,

      The children born of promise,

      To us He help will send.

      August 2012

      The Thorn in the Flesh

      It sticks! It pokes! It bothers me,

      Reminder of the Fall.

      God sent it through Hell’s agency

      To keep my puffing small.

      If I felt not my weakness

      Nor heard my thoughts so snide

      I might think I were better

      Than those I walk beside.

      I want my sin to wither

      And die upon the vine,

      But not till Heav’n’s glory

      Will perfect peace be mine.

      And yet in this my weakness

      I shall great power know

      For He that sent Affliction

      Shall also Mercy show.

      August 2012

      On the Death of D.B.

      I know you heard the Gospel,

      From my own lips you heard.

      At least upon your outer ear

      Did sound the faithful Word.

      I wish I had some reason

      To think you found your way

      Unto the only Savior.

      It would have made this day

      On which you met your Maker

      More easy for your friend.

      But God knows what He’s doing,

      And all things have an end.

      I hope we meet in glory,

      Both snatched from out the flame.

      I hope you found your comfort

      In Jesus’ holy name.

      But God knows He’s doing.

      To Him I bow the knee.

      I hope you found the Mercy

      Alone which comforts me.

      August 2012

      My Legacy

      Let me so live that when I die

      All