Poems for Jesus

One Small Farthing

By Ayrian Stone, April 2002

To the One who made me, You give me all I have.

Now I lay these gifts down at Your feet and wonder—is this all?

I planned to give You mountains, warehouses full of gold,

Boats full of untold riches—not a farthing dull and old.

I watch the coin fall in Your hands through a sheen of tears.

How can my gift be worthy, though I labored through the years?

“My child,” gentle You speak, Your voice so calm and tender,

"What is gained through love and trust is worth a million islands.

Your service lowly may have been, but worth far more is this—

You did it ever for My name and your gaze it held My face.

Your joy depended on My own and your labor never hesitated.

One small farthing—that is all—but how great your gift to Me.

I love you, Child, now and ever. Come, live eternally.”

Finding Prayer

By Ayrian Stone, 2011

Sunshine warm upon my face—this is prayer.

Raindrops lighting on my skin—this is prayer.

Breezes blowing on my frame—this is prayer.

Every day an act of worship—this is prayer.

Loving You and loving others—this is prayer.

Kneeling, standing, bending, walking—these are prayer.

Hugging, holding, touching, talking—these are prayer.

Happy moments, spacious breathing—all around is prayer.

Joyful thoughts and desperate pleas —in this moment, prayer.

Retching, crying, bleeding, fighting—even these are prayer.

Watching, waiting, sighing, staying—all I do is prayer.

To Walk With Jesus

By Ayrian Stone, February 2000

I want to walk with Jesus more so every day,

To hold His hand and go with Him along life’s narrow way.

I want  to find new graces and open chapters in my life.

There are routes that need exploring as I give up all for Christ.

I want to see His workmanship and the artwork of His hand.

How precious just to walk beside Him, to abide within His plan.

I want to walk with Jesus, to follow where He goes.

For the road will lead me far away from the places I used to know.

Oh, to walk with Jesus, to surrender at His side,

To learn the trade of grow and reap, and find the strength to die.

Yes, I’ll walk with Jesus, a sickle in my hand.

There’s a harvest out there waiting—and few who understand.