“O Lord – Not More Verse”

“o lord – not more verse”. perhaps best known as the lyrics writer of the 11 gowans/larsson musicals, general john gowans has just published his third collection of his poems. like its predecessors, o lord, not more verse! expresses spiritual truths with clarity and humor. as well as verse, this collection includes words of several songs written for particular occasions. a salvation army officer since 1955, and accompanied since 1957 by his wife, (now) commissioner gisele, gowans has had wide experience in britain, france, the australia eastern/papua new guinea territory, and the united kingdom territory with the republic of ireland. he served in the western territory from 1981-85 as secretary for program at thq, and from 1985-86 as southern california divisional commander. he was elected general in 1999. o lord, not more verse! ©the general of the salvation army – 1999. wilderness. this arid arizona hurts my eyes… with all its burning sands and brazen skies. the rocks bake silently beneath the sun, and never move– just as they’ve always done. the stubby cactus, only barely green, attempts in vain to civilize the scene. like some great animal the landscape lies, clubbed into dumb submission as it dies. yet, not entirely sterile is this land, for mousy creatures stir beneath its sand. the grey-green cactus too will have his hour, and break, if briefly, into fiery flower. no desert, so it seems, is quite deserted. the grimmest knows a little of your grace. help me detect your hand at work upon it; discover beauty in its driest place! for them. i put my hands together and i stand before your throne. just me! and yet there’s more than me; in fact i’m not alone! behind me stands a motley crowd. i want to speak for those who give themselves in service for the nameless no one knows. your servants who spend all they have, and sometimes something more, in drying tears, and calming fears, and often waging war on poverty, on loneliness, on hopelessness and grief, on sadness and on badness, never asking for relief. please give your willing ones the strength and all the grace they need. i can’t do much to help them, i can only intercede. o hear me, lord. be near them, lord. for them i pray this prayer. and, when they need you most of all, just let them know you’re there! self-inflicted. lead me not into temptation? i’m not sure you ever do! and it seems to me the trouble lies with me and not with you! i surround myself with dangers, taking risks i need not take, then rely on you to save me from the messes that i make! lead me not into temptation? i am often so inane. when i wander into danger, please, lord, lead me out again. sower. the harvest is not mine to plan; my job’s to keep on sowing. and what will prosper, this or that, there really is no knowing. then let me sow with faith and hope, and, if i must, with weeping, content because, just now and then, you let me share the reaping! calgary stampede. his hat flew high into the air. the bucking horse was mad. the boy hung on with all the skill and all the strength he had! at last he landed in the mud, but heard above the din, he’d kept his seat and held the reins just long enough to win! give me the grace when things are rough to take it with a grin, and hang on in adversity just long enough to win! inconsistency. he preaches like an angel, golden-voiced! before he’s through the driest eye is moist. he woos and wins the hardest heart to you, and in the pulpit he’s a giant, true! but when he climbs down from that vaulted place, his attitudes wear quite a different face! he’s cold and distant, doesn’t seem to care how we are faring, hasn’t time to spare. his ways deny the very truth he teaches. lord, help the man to practice what he preaches.