Thread: Need a Poem?
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Old 01-06-2007, 03:16 PM   #58
Rush'd Lady
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I found a book by Better Homes and Gardens called Scrapbooking with Recipes: Ideas for Preserving Kitchen Memories. Edited by Carol Field Dahlstrom. 2003. I want to make a scrapbook this year along this line and I’ve already started collecting poetry to insert and decided to share some with you.

My Kitchen Prayer.
By Nellie Pease.

Man shall not live by bread alone,
Our Lord and Master said,
But by the living Word of God,
Our souls must needs be fed.

So as I cook and serve the meals,
I will sincerely pray,
That I shall give, along with food,
Some Christ-like love today.

Now as I clear the meal away,
And wash the pots and pans
Dear God, please cleanse my thoughts and heart
With thine own loving hands.

Man shall not live by bread alone,
So we do pray, dear Lord,
“Please make us very hungry
For a knowledge of Thy Word. Amen!!
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My Kitchen Prayer.
By Author Unknown.

Bless my little kitchen, Lord
I love its every nook,
And bless me as I do my work
Wash pots and pans and cook.

May the meals that I prepare,
Be seasoned from above,
With Thy blessing and Thy grace,
But most of all Thy love.

As we partake of earthly food,
The table Thou has spread,
We’ll not forget to Thank Thee, Lord,
For all our daily bread.

So bless my little kitchen, Lord,
And those who enter in;
May they find naught but joy and peace
And happiness therein. Amen!
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My Kitchen Prayer.
Author Unknown.

Bless my pretty kitchen, Lord
And light it with Thy Love,
Help me plan and cook my meals
From Thy Heavenly home above.

Bless our meals with Thy Presence
And warm them with Thy grace
Watch over me as I do my work,
Washing pots and pans and plates.

The service I am trying to do
Is to make my family content,
So bless my eager efforts Lord
And make them heaven sent.
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The Divine Office of the Kitchen.
By Cecily Hallack.

“God walks among the pots and pipkins” ~ St. Teresa. (1 Thessalonians 2:7,

Lord of the pots and pipkins, since I have no time to be
A saint by doing lovely things and vigiling with Thee,
By watching in the twilight dawn, and storming Heaven’s gates,
Make me a saint by getting meals, and washing up the plates!

Lord of the pots and pipkins, please, I offer Thee my souls,
The tiresomeness of tea leaves, and the sticky porridge bowls!
Remind me of the things I need, not just to save the stairs,
But so that I may perfectly lay tables into prayers.

Accept my roughened hands because I made them so for Thee!
Pretend my dishmop is a bow, which heavenly harmony
Makes on a fiddle frying pan; it is so hard to clean,
And, ah, so horrid! Hear, dear Lord, the music that I mean!

Although I must have Martha hands, I have a Mary mind,
And when I black the boots, I try Thy sandals, Lord, to find,
I think of how they trod our earth, what time I scrub the floor,
Accept this meditation when I haven’t time for more!

Vespers and Compline come to pass by washing supper things.
And, mostly I am very tired; and all the heart that sings
About the morning’s work, is gone, before me into bed.
Lend me, dear Lord, Thy Tireless Heart to work in me instead!

My matins are said overnight to praise and bless Thy Name
Beforehand for tomorrow’s work, which will be just the same;
So that it seems I go to bed still in my working dress!
Lord make Thy Cinderella soon a heavenly Princess.

Warm all the kitchen with Thy Love and light it with Thy Peace!
Forgive the worrying, and make the grumbling words to cease.
Lord, who laid Breakfast on the shore, forgive the world which saith
“Can any good thing come to God out of poor Nazareth?”
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Where Love Abides.
By Rosemary Perry.

Our furnishings aren’t modern
Spanish is hardly the name.
We have no costly china
In our home, a modest frame.

But we have a friendly table,
And a cozy rocking chair,
We’re proud of our old bookcase
Crammed with books we share.

Our home is rich with blessings
And love from wall to wall.
You can feel it’s warmth when you enter,
And our door stands open for all.
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My Kitchen.
Author Unknown.

My kitchen is a cheery place
When friends are gathered there.
I hand them a cup of coffee,
And offer them a chair.

The visit may be very brief,
Or it may be very long.
The conversation may bring tears,
Or it may fill your heart with a song.

It matters not plans are interrupted,
Or I have work to do
What matters is, we are friends,
And I have shared this time with you.
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