God's America ~ Joan Clifton Costner



God's America
(Written upon the return of POWs from Vietnam )

America , lift high your many churches
And raise again the song of mighty God!
Our citizens are back in their own country;
Their steps are found upon their native sod!

Through all the technical negotiations,
Our due respect and praise we give these men.
But we know, without the prayer of all the Christians,
Their safe release would've never ever been.

Someday, we'll learn. Oh, help us, God, to remember
That not one breath we draw against Thy will.
Nations rise and fall, at Thy direction,
And leader come with Your permission still.

Let us learn, again, the art of fasting
And praying for our leaders every day.
Let this nation that is known as Christian.
Be quick to say that God restored today.

For though all men may claim the glorious victory,
Still, in our heart we know it was our God.
For, it was not lifeless bodies they returned to us.
It was the living images of God!

America , lift high your many churches!
Peal out the bells and raise your flag up high!
God brought you forth and laid to you a destiny.
America , with God, will never die!
© by Joan Clifton Costner
http://underhiswings0.tripod.com


Poetry On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries. This Includes Private Evangelism And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All Rights Reserved

Hidden Costs ~ Joan Clifton Costner



Hidden Costs

Old man and his wife on the patio square;
In a swinging seat, no one else there.
Others were milling farther out on the grass.
And though none of my business, I finally asked,
"Have you children?" The aging old eyes held mine,
"Yes, three sons ... gone now, for a very long time.

They were young, patriotic, and we knew they would go.
Though mama did beg them to wait, it was, "No."
Jimmy, the oldest, was on Normandy .
Steven held out 'till a day called "D".
David seemed so young. But, we couldn't keep
Him from taggin' along, at his brother's feet.

By now, we'd probably be covered with kids.
Grandchildren, great grands might well have been.
But, they fought for freedom. And always we fly
Our flag so high, on the fourth of July!

On Veterans Day, they place on their graves
Small red, white, and blues. We never miss
The parade and the honor services set.
A lot of important people we've met.

Still, it would have been nice, a grandchild or two;
Someone to care and help you to do
The things that grow harder, each year that we live,
And to see (like others) the "traits" of the kids."

Now, I never lost a son in a war.
Do I pass it lightly? I won't anymore.
For, my own little "grands" play by my chair.
And, it's such sweet pleasure to have them there;
Free and unhampered, delighted with life ...
Causing me to remember how dear the price!
Some lonely old patriots gave more than a son.
We ought to remember what cost freedom's won.


© by Joan Clifton Costner



Poetry On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries. This Includes Private Evangelism And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All Rights Reserved