You are the Workman I am the Frame

Chance has not brought this ill to me;

It's God's own hand, so let it be, For He sees what I cannot see. There is a purpose for each pain, And He one day will make it plain That earthly loss is Heavenly gain. Like as a piece of tapestry Viewed from the back it appears to be Only threads tangled hopelessly; But in the front a picture fair Rewards the worker for his care, Proving his skill and patience rare. You are the workman, I the frame. Lord, for the glory of Your Name, Perfect Your image on the same.

Memorial Day

Freedom Is Not Free

I watched the flag pass by one day. It fluttered in the breeze. A young Marine saluted it And then he stood at ease. I looked at him in uniform, So young, so tall, so proud, With hair cut square and eyes alert, He'd stand out in any crowd. I thought how many men like him Had fallen through the years. How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers' tears? How many pilots' planes shot down? How many died at sea? How many foxholes were soldiers' graves? No, freedom isn't free. I heard the sound of taps one night. When everything was still I listened to the bugler play And felt a sudden chill. I wondered just how many times That taps had meant "Amen," When a flag had draped a coffin Of a brother or a friend. I thought of all the children, Of the mothers and the wives, Of fathers, sons and husbands With interrupted lives. I thought about a graveyard At the bottom of the sea, Of unmarked graves in Arlington. No, freedom isn't free. LCDR Kelly Strong, USCG © 1981 Kelly Strong In honor and memory of all those who have fallen in service to our great country. Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13