The Small Voice

Some have to search hard to find it,

Some know it's there but can't hear,
Some listen and store it,
Some choose to ignore it,
And to some it rings out loud and clear.

Politicians and generals have one,

But they don't always listen to it,
Ambition and fray
Get in the way,
More than they'd care to admit.

It's the voice that's deep down inside us,

The small voice that knows what to do.
It's the voice that advises,
That sees through disguises,
The voice that is honest and true.

Sometimes the voice whispers softly,

And sometimes it shouts in our ear.
On a decision to make
Or a direction to take,
The voice is always sincere.

We ignore the small voice at our peril,

It knows that paths we have trod.
It's the voice of our soul,
It helps make us whole,
It's the voice of our father, of God.

Darkness & Light

The darkest part of the night, they say,
Is just before the dawn.
The brightest star in the sky, they say,
Is one thats almost gone.

Darkness and light, morning and night,

One needs the other to be.
Sadness and grief, hope and belief,
Each sets the other one free.

True darkness is rare, imperfections hide there,

Dark cant exist without light.
A break in a thing is how light gets in,
One day whats wrong will be right.
The Ox and the Donkey
Oxen and donkeys don't talk much,
It's not their normal behaviour.
It takes something unique
To make animals speak;
Unique, like the birth of a Saviour.

The donkey spoke first, in a whisper,

He'd suddenly found his voice:
'Do you think they're aware
That the child lying there
Is a reason for them to rejoice?'

'Who do you mean,' asked the ox,

'Are you talking of Joseph or Mary?
Or the wise men who came,
Or the shepherds, the same,
I don't really think they're unwary.'

'No, not them,' said the donkey,

'People far from this stable and inn.
Because you and I know
That this baby will grow
To a man who will die for our sins.

'After all,' said donkey, so softly,

'He's my master, I know that it's true,
My life's in his hands,
I'm part of his plans,
You know it's the same for you too.'

The ox bowed his head, and he nodded,

'My love for him is so deep,
I may be an ox
But I'm part of his flock,
Even though that's usually sheep!'

So the ox and the donkey agreed

To tell the good news to every breed
To dogs and cats, moths and bats,
Alsations, crustaceans, beagles and eagles.
A Saviour for all, guaranteed.
Seaside Cemetery
There were names here, names and dates
On this windblown bluff.
Chiselled granite,
Time and sand scraped clear.
Flat stone has no place in a churchyard.

All beneath crumbled,

Bones became earth long since.
How long
Before the surf takes the land,
The earth, the stone?

The sea simply wont stop:

Wave, swell, wave, swell, break,
Wave, swell, wave, swell, break.
It doesnt care.
Ruthless tide in, ruthless tide out,

It wins.
It always wins.

But for every stone a soul,

Saved or not saved.
Save me from the sea,
Save me.
What Christmas Is
Its a big red truck with Coca Cola on the side,
Its a John Lewis ad where we cried and we cried,
Its Santa and Sinterklaas, Wenceslas, Kris Kringle
And baubles and tinsel, turkey-flavoured Pringles.
Its Merry Christmas Everybody, Mistletoe and Wine,
Looped endlessly in shops, time after time.
Its Do They Know Its Christmas with a chiming bell,
And its buy, buy, buy and its sell, sell, sell.
Its Dr Who specials, a speech by the Queen,
Its Strictly and Downton, eyes glued to the screen.
Its nights out and parties, over-indulging,
And wining and dining, waistlines bulging.

And

Its buy now pay later, accumulation of debt,

Its I got this and this, what did you get?
Its consumer madness, avarice, greed
On the high street, where they think theyve got what we need.
Its the haunted expression in the eyes of the mums
Who cant risk their wee ones being outshone by their chums.
Its the queues and the traffic, tempers fraying,
And Oh no, no the in-laws, know what Im saying?
Its people with nothing, living alone,
No-one to talk to, no-one to phone,
Enjoying their Christmas as best as theyre able,
Its a single setting at the Christmas table.

But

Its O Come All Ye Faithful, sung by a choir,

Its Away in a Manger, hymns to inspire.
Its herald angels singing, its O Holy Night,
And Joy to the World, a world full of light.
Its Mary and Joseph, shepherds and kings,
Gold, frankincense, myrrh, precious things.
Its a star in the east, shining clear,
A beacon from heaven, banishing fear.
Its recalling the night in a stable forlorn,
Its about the coming of the child that was born.
Its the birth of a Saviour, Gods only son,
Who was born to save us, every last one.
Mr Noahs Dove
I didnt really fancy it, theres no use in lying,
I was happy in the ark and didnt feel like flying.
For ages it had floated, it pitched and it rolled,
It didnt look too nice out there, and actually quite cold.

Mr Noah didnt speak a lot, when he did though you took heed,
Hey there, little dove, he called, Youre to be freed.
Its not like Im a prisoner, I thought, and I was right,
But when theres nowhere to fly to, theres not much point in flight.

It had rained for forty nights, and rained for forty days,
The whole world under water, and now he smiles and says:
Weve waited long enough for the water to subside,
Time to send an explorer to see whats left outside.

Youd have thought hed send a kestrel, they fly really fast,
Or an eagle, or a condor, as they can really last
For days in the air, and wouldnt need to rest
As often as I would, and wouldnt get so stressed.

Worry not, sweet dove, said Mr Noah, You can do it,

Youre brave, youre swift, and I know you can get through it.
Fly now, my little one, let your wings never cease,
Til you come back with a sign so we soon can have peace.

Well, I flew and I flew and I flew some more,

And I searched and I searched until my wings were sore,
But all out there was water and land I couldnt see,
Not a hill, not a path, not a branch, not a tree.

So back I flew, feeling dispirited, feeling sad,

But when Mr Noah saw me, he looked really glad,
Worry not, he said, Its maybe just too soon,
Well wait a day or two, the next new moon.

Next time out things were different, new,

A change in the air, I felt it as I flew,
And before too long I saw an island, not big,
With an olive tree upon, so I snapped off a twig.

I flew back again, feeling happy and proud,

And when Mr Noah saw the twig he exclaimed out loud:
Its over, my friends, we can begin again,
Set sail for land, pull the anchor chain.

Mr Noah turned to me as a rainbow lit the sky,

You did well, he said, with a tear in his eye,
Thank you for your faith, for soon well disembark
And faith, little dove, made me build this ark.
Autumn
Whats the point of autumn, and why do things grow old?
Why cant summer last all year, why does it get so cold?
Wouldnt it be better if the light nights lasted all year,
If all the leaves stayed green and flowers didnt disappear?
Why do we need a season when everything withers and dies?
Time passes and we cant stop it, no matter how hard we try.
What once was growing decays, fading away into dust,
Vibrant summer hues to brown, burnt orange and rust.

Autumn is decline, a steady slowing down,

Nights drawing in,
Lamps lit,
Lie low.

No.

Not so.
Harvest,
A gathering in,
Autumn thrives, the thankful time.

The season which serves to remind us that dying isnt the end,
That there is a life everlasting for those who are willing to tend
Their crops and their fields and their thoughts and their soul,
The chattels that matter, that make them whole.
You sow and you reap, you receive your reward,
The fruits of that labour hard won.
The bounty of autumn is the bounty of life
So give thanks to the Father and Son.
What a Day
What a day, what a day.
It began just like any other,
Tied up and bored, lonely, ignored,
They could have chosen another.
That one, they said, He looks well fed,
We like his quiet behaviour.
He looks pretty strong, we wont need him long,
Do you think he can carry a Saviour?

What a day, what a day.

Now Im only a donkey, I'm sure you can tell,
But Im loyal and proud, and good in a crowd,
Which is probably just as well.
The task for me was a big one, you see,
Honours dont come any higher.
Jesus, his name was, already famous,
But destined for more, the Messiah.

What a day, what a day.

Crowds lined the route, straining to see,
Hosanna, they shouted, and very few doubted,
The Saviour had arrived in His glory
I carried Him proudly, the people called loudly,
Blessed is He who comes.
Palm fronds flew, coats at our feet too,
In the name of the Lord, He comes.

What a day, what a day.

I didnt want it to end.
But end it had to, and I guess I was glad to
Get back to my asinus friends,
Because I had a story, of good news and of glory
To pass on and pass on and pass on.
Of my day with the King, I always will sing,
And pass on and pass on and pass on.

Im only a donkey, okay

I cant even speak, I just bray,
But dont be so critical
Havent you heard of miracles?
What a day, what a day, what a day.