TURN YOUR EYES UPON JESUS

There is a song called Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus that has blessed my life over the years because it is as true now as it was when it was written. Some times I forget the richness and beauty of God’s Word and God’s love for us until something brings God’s word back into remembrance.

There is a song called Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus that has blessed my life over the years because it is as true now as it was when it was written. Some times I forget the richness and beauty of God’s Word and God’s love for us until something brings God’s word back into remembrance.
I have taken this space to give you this song and a poem for your enjoyment.
TURN YOUR EYES UPON JESUS
O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!
CHORUS:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in his wonderful face;
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of his glory and grace.
From death unto life everlasting
He passed, and we follow him there;
Over us sin no more hath dominion-
For more than conquerors are we!
God’s Word shall not fail you- it’s promised;
Believe it, and all sill be well;
Then go to a world that is dying,
Christ’s perfect salvation to tell!
Helen H. Lemmel
THE TOUCH OF THE MASTERS HAND
‘Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while,
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar”; then, “Two! Only two ?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three—-“ But no,
From a room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, “ What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow,
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand twice,
And going, and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried:
“We do not quite understand
What changed its worth,” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of a master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned off to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine;
A game— and he travels on.
He is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone,”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
It is never to late to turn to God and it is never to late for His son in your life