The publication, last year, of Mrs. Hilda House's poems "BIBLE NUMBERS" proved very popular, and I feel sure there will be a warm welcome for this little book of verses too.

The main theme is the Parables of Jesus. We took one of these stories each month for a talk to the children on Sunday mornings.

Mrs. Lilian Butler again secured the co-operation of children, who produced some very striking paintings. What a pity they can't be reproduced here! Mrs. House rounded off the exercise with a poem applying the message of the parable to our present day discipleship.

Other poems written for various occasions during the year are also included. I hope this little booklet will give pleasure to many.

Ralph Martin

Twelve parables of Jesus,
There are many more beside,
Read your Bible - find them,
Let them be your guide.

A wonderful book the Bible,
No other can compare
The knowledge it imparts,
The stories that are there.

Wonderful tales of adventure,
Travel, and many a brave deed.
Love stories, miracles, healing,
All there for you to read.

Many pearls of wisdom,
Words of hope and cheer.
The "Good News" of the gospel,
In your Bible here.

Look for God's commandments,
Read them and obey,
Let these ancient laws,
Guide us still today.

Read the stories of Jesus,
Read them every day,
Find their hidden meaning,
See what they have to say.

Hear the parable of the woman,
Who sadly - a coin she lost,
She searched and swept - it must be found,
Be found, at any cost.

And then at last she saw it,
Shining brightly on the ground;
She called her friends and neighbours
To tell that the lost was found.

Jesus told of the joy in heaven,
Over one sinner gone astray,
And welcomes him back into the fold,
Then he chooses the Christian way.

So when Jesus has found you,
Life will change beyond compare;
Tell the world about it;
The good news with others share.

Parable of The Vineyard (No.4)

Repeat the stories of Jesus,
Repeat them again to me,
Tell them in words so simple,
That even a child may see.

A farmer planted a vineyard,
And where it once was bare.
It began to grow and flourish
Under his loving care.

And then he took a journey,
Travelled to far off lands,
And left his fertile vineyard,
In charge of hired hands.

When the time of harvest came,
He sent his servants three -
To gather in the grapes,
The fruits of his labours see.

But the cruel labourers,
Killed the servants one by one,
And so the vineyard farmer
Sent his only beloved son_.

Then the wicked murderers,
Killed the son and heir,
And said "We'll have the vineyards now,
Between us we will share".

The vineyard is the Church of God,
Rejected by sinful men,
The murdered servants, God's prophets sent,
To tell good news to them.

The Son and Heir, God's only Son,
Sent down for us to die.
But to our shame_; with our misdeeds,
Christ still, we crucify.

Parable of The Mustard Seed (No.5)

I'm glad that the stories of Jesus,
Were often of simple things,
That even I might understand.
The message that it brings.

Think of the grain of mustard seed,
The tiniest seed of all;
Hardly seen by the naked eye,
It is so very small.

But, from this small beginning,
Soon - see it in the glade -
Strong and green and leafy,
Giving shelter cool and shade.

Safe shelter for the birds,
In the leafy branches nest,
Shade for weary animals,
Taking their evening rest.

The gospel started the same snail way,
By Christ's followers, just the few,
And like the grain of mustard seed,
Spread everywhere - and grew.

Help to spread the message,
Though small your effort be,
Remember the tiny mustard seed,
That grew into a tree.

Two Men Who Built A House (No.6)

Tell me the stories of Jesus,
They are always new to me,
The more we read and ponder them,
More truths in them we see.

Two men decided to build a house,
They began to scheme and plan,
And one of them was very wise,
But the other, a foolish.

Mr. Wise, he built his house,
On solid, rocky ground,
And everything with which he built,
Was the best that could be found.

The foolish man said: "This rocky ground
Is much too hard for me,
I'll build my house on sandy soil,
Far easier, that will be"_.

And, so they built their houses,
Which outwardly looked the same;
But one night a terrible storm arose,
With hurricane winds and rain,,

The wise man's house withstood the storm,
Its foundations built to last;
But the foolish man's in ruins lay,
After the storm had passed.

Build your lives on sure foundations,
Take Jesus as your guide,
The storms of life will be o'ercome,
With Jesus at your side.

Pharisee and Publican (No.9)

Wonderful stories of Jesus,
Each in its own way -
Teaches, guides and helps us -
In our living day by day.

Two men went to the temple,
It was the Sabbath day,
And as it was their custom,
They went to worship and pray.

The first one was a proud man,
Thought none as good as he,
And stood in a prominent position,
So everyone could see.

He prayed, "I thank you Lord,
I am better than the rest;
I pray, and fast, and give to you -
Of all my goods - the best".

But the second man prayed humbly,
"Have mercy, Lord, on me,
I know I am unworthy,
For forgiveness, hear my plea".

Let us never be boastful,
Or try to bargain with God_;
But just to follow meekly,
In the path that He has trod.

Help us to be humble,
Teach us how to pray,
Listen to that still small voice,
Showing us Your way.

The Sower (No.10)

This wonderful time of harvest,
God's promises - they never fail,
That seasons - the seedtime and harvest,
For ever, God said, would prevail.

Jesus told of the sower,
The seed he went to sow,
He threw and scattered it around,
As they did long years ago.

But some fell on stony ground,
And some choked by thorn and weed,
Then the birds of the air flew down,
 And devoured the precious seed.

But some fell on good ground,
Which grew and flourished there,
And at the time of harvest,
Everyone could share.

The seed, it is the word of God,
Freely given to all,
Open your hearts to receive it,
Listen, and hear God's call.

Weeds and thorns are worldly pleasures,
Satan and sin the devouring bird,
Close your ears to the tempting voice,
Ever let it go unheard.

The stony ground is a hardened heart,
Oh, may the words that we say,
Touch some lost and lonely one,
And show them the Christian way.

The Prodigal Son (No.11)

How glad we are that the scholars,
With dedicated work and skill,
Translated these ancient stories,
That we can read them still.

The story of the Prodigal Son,
A very foolish young man,
Grew tired of his simple everyday life,
And began to scheme and plan.

He asked his father for the share
That would come to him one day,
And when he had received it,
Left home, and went away.

But very soon, the money -
And his good-time friends had gone,
Then sad and disillusioned,
His mistakes he reflected upon.

Then penniless, hungry and lonely,
For his former life he yearned,
And swallowing his stupid pride,
He to his home returned. 

His father came to meet him,
And brought him back to the fold,
Put on the finest garments,
On his finger a ring of gold.

The Prodigal Son, lost sheep and coin,
Their meaning is all the same;
How great is the rejoicing,
When the lost is found, again.

God is always waiting and ready,
To welcome the lost and strayed,
However far we have wandered,
Our ransom He has paid.

Hidden Treasure (No, 12)

Another story of Jesus,
Help us to understand
All that Jesus taught us,
All that He has planned.

A story of the treasure,
Buried deeply in the ground -
Until one day by a certain man,
It was unearthed - and found.

Another man, with precious stones,
Seeking for pearls so rare,
Found one pearl of greatest price,
Quite beyond compare.

Both men sold everything they had,
Their dreams to realise,
And great was their happiness,
In possession of this prize.

The hidden treasure is Jesus Christ,
And His holy word;
Find these priceless gifts yourself.
Then let your joy be heard.

The pearls of great price are the blessings, Christ freely offers to all,
These treasures can come to all of us,
If we seek and answer God's call.

Time

All the worry all the hurry,
There's always time to spare,
Take it easy, go more slowly,
You will still get there.

All the rushing and the fussing,
Quietly take your time;
If today is dark and stormy,
Tomorrow will be fine.

All the hustle and the bustle,
Of life's long busy way,
Time enough to do tomorrow
What we've left today.

All the sighing and the crying,
Time's a healer so they say:
If today is sad and dreary,
There will be another day.

All the dreaming and the scheming,
All in vain if time's mis-used;
Never was a priceless treasure
So wastefully abused.

Don't spend your time in vain regrets
Or kick against your fate,
Never say those sad, sad words
"If only" and "too late".

Cherish then each golden moment
E'er it pass beyond recall;
Spend your time in selfless service,
Be the motto of us all.

Now Is The Time

Love them while you've got them,
Tomorrow may be too late;
Sorrow will come to all,
Sometime, sure as fate.

Love them while you've got them_;
Say not that angry word,
Let that unkind thought
Ever go unheard.

Always speak the kindly word
And do the kindly deed,
Try to help another,
Someone who's in need.

Always give a cheery smile
To all the folks you see,
Give a friendly greeting,
The world will happier be.

Spread no idle gossip,
Repeat no untrue tale,
Never betray a confidence,
A promise never fail.

Spread a little happiness
As you go from day to day;
Make some other person
Glad you came this way.

For we pass this way but once,
So someone's troubles share,
And daily help your fellow men_,
With deeds and words and prayer.

Thank You

'Thank you' seems inadequate,
It doesn't always convey
Everything that is in our hearts,
And all we'd like to say.

'Thank you' just two simple words,
They mean so much to some,
Say it with a friendly smile,
Thank you and well done!

Thank you doesn't cost a thing,
It's easy to give a smile,
Life will be all the sweeter
And so much more worthwhile.

Thank you, two such gracious words,
May brighten someone's day;
Use every opportunity
These two small words to say.

So if you've had a kindness shown,
The least that you can do,
Accept it all with gratitude,
And say a big "Thank you".

Harvest Festival

Now Sam he was a gardener,
His garden blossomed fair,
And fruit and flowers and vegetables,
Grew in profusion there.

But Sam was very troubled;
He didn't know what to do:
For it was the Harvest Festival
And the local Flower Show too. 

He'd set his heart upon the prize,
Twas his, almost assured;
And yet a voice within him said:
Give the first-fruits to the Lord.

So Sam gathered his choicest blooms
Gave of his very best,
And there they stood in beauty,
Better than the rest.

And Sam was very happy,
For a job that was well done;
And sang at church on Sunday,
'Come ye thankful people come'.

Next day the Mayor and Council
Stood there, to Sam's surprise,
And handed him a silver cup,
And said "You've won-first prize. 

Last week we judged the gardens,
Found your's beyond compare;
So now you are rewarded
For all your work and care".

So always give your best to God
Who gives so much to you,
Not just at harvest-time your thanks
But all the whole year through.