Gifts of the Spirit
©2008 Susan Noyes Anderson
Through priesthood power, the Holy Ghost descends.
This first gift of the Spirit is received
by those who are baptized, whose hearts believe
in Christ’s great plan and all that it portends.
These poems about Christ are among my favorites, for writing them has brought me closer to Him. God gives good gifts, and I am grateful for His presence in each day. May these poems, focused on the Savior’s life, mission and example, communicate His love to everyone who scrolls through them. If you are specifically looking for Christmas Poems or Easter Poems, feel free to click directly on either category. (Please request permission to use my poems about Christ by email before using, and be sure to include full copyright information on every copy. For internet use, a link back to the poem on this site is required.)
FINDING THE POEM YOU WANT: As you scroll through this section, simply read each snippet sample (usually the first four lines) to get a feel for the poem. When you find something you like, click “CONTINUE READING” to view the entire poem.
Through priesthood power, the Holy Ghost descends.
This first gift of the Spirit is received
by those who are baptized, whose hearts believe
in Christ’s great plan and all that it portends.
Stand as a witness, a witness of God,
for the world has lost sight of His glory.
The truth must go forward. The battle’s engaged.
Stand with Him; let your life tell His story.
You want to make decisions for yourself,
to find out who you are and what you’ll be.
Sometimes you push the boundaries as you search
for something called your “own identity.”
I.
Christ, our glorious Elder Brother
Noble, perfect, free from sin
Firstborn Son of Heavenly Father
In all things like unto Him
We all have heard the story, it’s been told and then retold,
about the birth of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem of old.
Yet every Christmastide the tale bears telling once again,
as we reflect on that sweet babe, born to redeem all men.
Tonight I walk beneath a gentle sky
where stars are warm and whisper, “Peace, be still.”
The silence beckons softly, as the moon
shines clear and bright upon a distant hill.
Jerusalem, He entered like a King.
with shouts of acclamation, fronds of palm.
But these gave way to fear, and none were with Him.
To His stripes, loving hands applied no balm.