I Peter 3:7: A Husband’s Duty

Husband, love your wife,
And dwell with understanding.
With her spend your life,
With knowledge undemanding.

Honor give your wife,
And waste no time in getting.
Getting gives you strife,
You’re honored – God permitting.

Honor! give her gifts,
Security providing,
Praise, esteem, uplift,
Take heed to her advising.

Weaker though she be,
Know she will co-inherit
Grace, eternity,
Thus your respect she merits.

Together you must pray,
Your strife is interrupting.
Uncherished she will fade,
Your selfishness corrupting.

Marriage God ordained,
So, dwell, give honor, praying.
Unity obtained,
When we will start obeying.


Psalm 23: My Perfect Host

With tender care You set a feast,
Each dish exquisite, choicely laid,
With vivid symmetry set out,
No French chief rivals what You made.

This food so succulent and rich,
You serve me as my foes look on.
They can not touch me nor can eat,
From of this vibrant bounty drawn.

The richest oil You pour out,
O’er all my head You drizzle wealth.
The perfume of the fattest oil,
And herbal mix to aid my health.

My cup You fill with choicest wine,
It tastes of life that You have bought,
Your blessings fill me to the brim,
Though I can offer You but naught.

You met me with a holy kiss,
And You – my host – did wash my feet.
You feed me You: Eternal Bread,
At this, our holy wedding feast.

Your grace and goodness escort me,
And I can not exhaust Your stores.
So when this marriage is complete,
I’ll live with You forever more.


It was snowing on that mountain path,
And I was weak and young,
I wandered merry, weary, here and there,
Youthful mind and tongue.

Then I saw her in the road ahead,
That charming, graceful she,
I matured ten years that day, that hour,
I longed to make her we.

But snow is difficult to till and tend,
A tree can’t make a home,
I must prepare to work – for her, for me,
Or we will never come.

But I must give her more than food and clothes,
The Scripture is food, too,
Can I read, and understand and teach,
Instructions right and true?

Do I have respect, and good companions?
And “favor with man?”
Once I have all of these, I’ll come for her,
I’ll win her – then I can.

One warm hand I hold within my hand,
One heart against my heart,
As we trudge for that far summit high,
We vowed never to part

On our left there dropped a massive ditch,
To our right a quag,
We held each other close in center way,
We could not fall or lag.

Some others made it through this path alone,
But we needed the other,
Or else the rocks and winds that plagued the way,
Would cause we-split to falter.

Once I sprained my wrist to keep her steady,
Once she hurt her arm.
Despite the pain, we traveled on and on,
Keeping our mate from harm.

One night we stopped at a road-side inn to rest,
Then, nine miles later,
She – with pain – birthed us a daughter sweet,
Of course, we’ll never trade her.

That was the first, be sure that we had more,
We formed a little tribe.
Many gawked and said we had too many,
But when we stopped I cried.

Then we found another for our first,
And more, of course, did come,
There was one for every son and daught’,
Which formed a mighty sum.

We could have been an army of our own,
On that trail we walked,
Each of ours had several of their own,
But we were the stalk.

Our influence had reached the far and wide,
When to the mount we came,
It was our Nebo, the rest would follow later,
When they reached the same.

So we climbed, with wrinkled hand in hand,
We reached the heights resolved,
When we reached the resurrected He,
Our needless rings dissolved.

He had joined us both and made us we,
At that our long-past start,
We part to join in Him another we,
Communion with His heart.

The same, but different was our we in him,
In that mountain land,
But if you are not here, I’ll not explain,
I doubt you’ll understand.