The Weaver

My life is but a weaving between my God and me,

I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Ofttimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver’s hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

This famous poem, The Weaver, is about life and God and was written by Benjamin Malacia Franklin. The verses remind us that we all have a purpose and that God is always with us moving us toward that purpose; we just have to remember to trust him!

Day by Day

by Lina Sandell

"Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,
He whose name is Counselor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand."

Day by Day Hymn - Songs Out of Tragedy, Carolina Sandell Berg

www.christianity.com › Church › Church History › Timeline › 1801-1900

 

Lina Sandell wrote Day by Day and other hymns after experiencing tragedy that ... She grew up to become Sweden's most celebrated author of Gospel hymns, ...

Life's Puzzle

by Jalisa Wenger A little girl, just five years old, She called and Mama came To fit the pieces that she held Within her puzzle’s frame. But when her Mama tried to help And show her where they go, She fussed and tried to make them fit Her way–not Mama’s–no! "Oh, Mama, let’s do this one now," But Mama thought it best To lay that piece aside awhile; It did not fit the rest. But as they worked together on The puzzle—piece by piece— They found the one they’d laid aside Now fit with perfect ease! This little girl, she is my own. To me, she’s very dear. While watching her, I saw myself— Like looking in the mirror. "But Lord," I whined, "I do not want To put this piece that way. I’d like it better over here. Please tell me that I may!" Or "Father, let’s do this one now," But Father knows it’s best To lay that piece aside awhile Until we’ve pieced the rest. Then one by one, we fit them in According to His choice. I now can see why it was best To heed His gentle voice. He saw the picture of my life, But I saw just a part. He knew the choices that I craved Would draw me from His heart. In tender love He bid me lay The treasured piece aside, That I might learn to yield to Him And in His will abide. As we continue working on Life’s puzzle side by side, My heart is filled with gratitude To God, my faithful Guide! And when we stand on Heaven’s shore And view the scene—complete— With heartfelt praises on my lips, I’ll worship at His feet!

My Mother

by Barbara Winans Hill - Used by permission

A delicate blossom has passed this way
Given to me for awhile
Now, Lord, as she rests in Your arms of Love
May the seeds she planted continue to grow,
That the beauty of her life in You may be seen
By family, by friends...by those all around.
And when my own bloom is gone, sweet Lord,
May the seeds that I leave be glorious and strong,
To point all my children to Yourself, and to Home.

What Is Motherhood? -- Two Sides of the Question

Author unknown

Please be sure to read the second part, "The Other Side," which has to do with this photo.

The One Side

It's such a waste of time to cook,

I'm just a walking cookery book.
I make and bake the morning through,
The favorite pies and pudding too.
And then in half an hour or less,
My toil has gone to nothingness.
It's a waste of time to dust the stairs,
To clean the brass, and polish chairs,
To sweep, and pick up bits of fluff,
For nothing's ever clean enough.
Five minutes after I am done,
Someone is sure to romp and run,
Kick out the stair-rods, flick the mats,
Slam the doors and scare the cats.
Some sticky hand is sure to press
The brasses from their sprightliness.
I tidy up and do the dusting,
But all the while, my wings are rusting.
Then washing day, it seems to me,
Is just a waste of energy.
What use to stand before a tub,
And soak and rinse, and blue and rub?
Next week the self-same garment's stain
Will come into my hands again.
It's such a waste of time to mend,
One has no sooner reached the end
Of last week's pile, then---need you ask it?

This week's fills up the mending basket.
The stockings which were hale and hearty
Return from each picnicking party,
Weak and worn and wanly show
Great gaping holes in heel and toe,
While the buttons have a cantankerous way
Of disappearing every day.
Sponging off the spots and ironing creases,
Between it all, I'm worn to pieces.
Woman, from cradle to grave
Is nothing but a galley slave.

The Other Side

I've done an angel's work today!
Yes, such an honor came my way.
Real angel's work!  And lest you doubt it,
I'm going to tell you all about it.
Well, first, I cooked.  It was so nice
To plan the pies, stewed fruit, and rice.
God sent His angel once to make
Cakes for a poor wayfarer's sake.
But just today He honored me,
And sent the task my way, you see.
Then while I tidied up the place,
Gave every knob a radiant face,
Back of my mind this thought would lurk,
That I was still at angel's work.
Putting away coats and dresses,
And moving small unsightlinesses.
For, oh! 'tis such a lovesome thing,
Just straightening out and freshening.
And after that I washed a few
Small woolly garments, old, not new,
Things I had rubbed and rinsed before,
Quite forty times or even more.
And as I hung them on the line,
I thought what God-like work was mine!
To cleanse---ah, me!---to wash out stains,
Till not a single speck remains.
So later in the day 'twas sweet
To sit and rest my tired feet,
While mending the clothes, and planning too,
How to make old things into new.
For surely 'tis an angel's way
To put things right from day to day,
To find thin places, and repair
The glad rags and the sturdy wear.
Since wear and tear must surely be
On this side of Eternity,
I'm feeling very proud to say,
"I've done an angel's work today!"

Morning Prayer for Moms

by Phyllis Brokaw - March 2005 - Used by permission

Good morning, Dear Lord,
My day's just begun.
Please guide me and help me to honor Your Son.
Help me to walk in the path you have planned.
There are so many options---so many demands!

Help me keep focused, Your Word obey,
Teach me to trust You each step of the way.
Don't let me wander, don't let me stray,
May Your will be done in my life today.

Amen.

Sit Still, My Daughter!

by J. Danson Smith

Sit still, my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Nor deem these days—these waiting days—as ill!
The One who loves thee best, who plans thy way,
Hath not forgotten thy great need today! 

And if He waits, ’tis sure He waits to prove
To thee, His tender child, His heart’s deep love.

Sit still, my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Thou longest much to know thy dear Lord’s will! 

While anxious thoughts would almost steal their way,
Corrodingly within, because of His delay—
Persuade thyself in simple faith to rest,
That He, who knows and loves, will do the best.

Sit still, my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Nor move a step, not even one, until
His way hath opened. Then, ah, then, how sweet!
How glad thy heart, and then how swift thy feet! 

Thy inner being then, ah, then, how strong!
And waiting days not counted then too long.

Sit still, my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
What higher service could’st thou for Him fill? 

’Tis hard! Ah, yes! But choicest things must cost!
For lack of losing all how much is lost!
’Tis hard, ’tis true! But then—He giveth grace
To count the hardest spot the sweetest place.

The Mother Mender

--Author unknown

 

I came apart at the seams yesterday,

 

    Children crying-

        Supper frying-

            Husband sighing-

 

But last night I knelt to pray

And Jesus took the tensions all away. 

 

 

Today the same old seams were frayed.

 

       Weather dreary-

            Children teary-

                Husband weary-

 

But God's peace was under-laid

And I was strong because I prayed.  

Trust the Father's Heart

When you turn a corner in your life and questions rage inside, and no one gives you answers, trust the Father’s heart.
Such simple trust is not a thing to take lightly.
Sometimes, it sounds too easy.
Sometimes, it sounds too hard, just to trust the Father’s heart.
But the One who gives the sparrow a nest, and knows when each one falls,
the same One who clothes a lily when it pushes up through the sod,
this same God – we can trust our Father’s heart.
He is faithful toward all His creation and has a plan unlike our own.
The future may seem uncertain and the path unclear at times,
but He alone knows how to bring beauty from ashes,
if we can but trust the Father’s heart. 

-Rebecca Barlow Jordon

Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him:

but I will maintain mine own ways before him.

Job 13:15

Fear not, O land; be glad and rejoice:

for the LORD will do great things. Joel 2:21

Metamorphosis

 

Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun

a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:

Philippians 1:6

  

Metamorphosis

 

A confining cocoon. It’s a tight situation.

Why am I here? I crave liberation!

Wherever I turn, I see more strands surrounding.

Each effort for freedom proves fruitless.  Confounding.

 

A confining cocoon.  An extended duration.

I’m turning to mush!  I don’t get the equation.

God must have a purpose that’s truly astounding.

I’ll try to endure for His grace is abounding.

 

A confining cocoon.  A distinct transformation!

Not mush anymore—but a stunning creation!

Now free from confinement, by splendor surrounded,

I bask in the sunshine with pleasure unbounded!

 

A confining cocoon.  Then a sweet graduation.

God did have a plan—I am proof.  Confirmation.

While gracefully gliding from flower to flower,

I savor His goodness; delight in His power.

 

—Jalisa Wenger

 

 Note from the author:
  This poem does not mean that I have arrived at the "perfect" place in life.

Rather this is a scene that occurs over and over as God works in my life.  If you're in a cocoon right now,

take courage!  Our God cannot fail.  He will bring you through in His time, in His way.

Blessings to you and yours today.

To Soar Again

 On a rocky mountain outcrop

Far above the sleepy world

In the misty, morning stillness

Perched an eagle, feathers furled.

Other birds began their chorus

And the air was filled with praise,

As the fog was ushered elsewhere

By the sun’s persistent rays.

On the sunbathed rocky summit,

Warming air began to rise,

Beckoning the waiting eagle

From the mountain to the skies.

Gracefully he soared and circled,

Slicing through the crystal air,

Far beyond all earthly clamor,

Wild and free, without a care.

Are you blanketed by darkness?

Are the joys of life obscure?

Do you wonder if you’ll ever

Know the life you knew before?

Use this waiting time for trusting—

God is working out His plan.

In His time you’ll feel His current

Lifting you to soar again.

by Jalisa Wenger
Used by permission

The Vow

I might not ever scale the mountain heights
Where all the great men stand in glory now;
I may not ever gain the world's delights
Or win a wreath of laurel for my brow;
I may not gain the victories that men
Are fighting for, nor do a thing to boast of;
I may not get a fortune here, but then,
The little that I have I'll make the most of.
I'll make my little home a palace fine,
My little patch of green a garden fair,
And I shall know each humble plant and vine
As rich men know their orchid blossoms rare.
My little home may not be much to see;
It's chimneys may not tower far above;
But it will be a mansion great to me,
For in its walls I'll keep a hoard of love.
I will not pass my modest pleasures by
To grasp at shadows of more splendid things,
Disdaining what of joyousness is nigh
Because I am denied the joy of kings.
But I will laugh and sing my way along,
I'll make the most of what is mine to-day,
And if I never rise above the throng,
I shall have lived a full life anyway.

-by Edgar A. Guest

The Quilt Holes

Author unknown - Thanks to Annamarie Kresge in Virginia for sending this!

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the  other souls.

Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was.  They were filled with giant holes. 

Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life.  I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me.  Nobody else had such squares.  Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune.  I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.

My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.

Finally, the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth.  The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries.  So filled their lives had been.  My angel looked upon me and nodded for me to rise.

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame.  I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes.  I had love in my life and laughter.  But there had also been trials of illness and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it.  I had to start over many times.  I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. 

I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life.  I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.

And now, I had to face the truth.  My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.  I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.  An awe-filled gasp filled the air.  I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ.  Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes.  He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.

Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through until there was more of Me than there was of you."

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!

Poem and Quotes by Albert Benjamin Simpson

 ― Albert Benjamin Simpson
 https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2833763.Albert_Benjamin_Simpson

"Once it was the blessing, Now it is the Lord;
Once it was the feeling, Now it is His Word.
Once His gifts I wanted, Now the Giver own;
Once I sought for healing, Now Himself alone.

Once 'twas painful trying, Now 'tis perfect trust;
Once a half salvation, Now the uttermost.
Once 'twas ceaseless holding, Now He holds me fast;
Once 'twas constant drifting, Now my anchor's cast.

Once 'twas busy planning, Now 'tis trustful prayer;
Once 'twas anxious caring, Now He has the care.
Once 'twas what I wanted, Now what Jesus says;
Once 'twas constant asking, Now 'tis ceaseless praise.

Once it was my working, His it hence shall be;
Once I tried to use Him, Now He uses me.
Once the power I wanted, Now the Mighty One;
Once for self I labored, Now for Him alone.

Once I hoped in Jesus, Now I know He's mine;
Once my lamps were dying, Now they brightly shine.
Once for death I waited, Now His coming hail;
And my hopes are anchored, Safe within the veil."


 Quotes of Albert Benjamin Simpson

“Some people get easily turned aside from the grandeur of their life-work by pursuing their own grievances and enemies, until their life gets turned into one little petty whirl of warfare. It is like a nest of hornets. You may disperse the hornets, but you will probably get terribly stung, and get nothing for your pains, for even their honey is not worth a search.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, Days of Heaven Upon Earth

“I once saw a picture of the Constitution of the United States, very skillfully engraved in copper plate, so that when you looked at it closely it was nothing more than a piece of writing, but when you looked at it at a distance, it was the face of George Washington. The face shone out in the shading of the letters at a little distance, and I saw the person, not the words, nor the ideas; and I thought, “‘That is the way to look at the Scriptures and understand the thoughts of God, to see in them the face of love, shining through and through; not ideas, nor doctrines, but Jesus Himself as the Life and Source and sustaining Presence of all our life.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson

“Peace with God is the effect of forgiveness,”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, The A.B. Simpson Collection: 32 Classic Works

“We do not always feel joyful, but we are always to count it joy.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, Days of Heaven Upon Earth

“The ruin of the human race came by discrediting and doubting God’s word to our first parents. “Hath God said?” was the fountain of all sin. “God hath said” is the foundation, therefore, of our restoration.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, The A.B. Simpson Collection: 32 Classic Works

“The devil’s first trick is to get us to say, “I have not sinned.” And then his last blow is to make us think, “My sin is too great to be forgiven.” But humble faith accepts God’s judgment upon itself, and escapes judgment.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, The A.B. Simpson Collection: 32 Classic Works

“One bright and thankful look at the cross is worth a thousand morbid, self-condemning reflections.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, Days of Heaven Upon Earth

“Someone has beautifully analyzed the fruit of the Spirit in Gal. 5: 22, and shown that all the graces there mentioned are but various forms of love itself. The apostle is not speaking of different fruits, but of one fruit, the fruit of the Spirit, and the various words that follow are but phrases and descriptions of the one fruit, which is love itself. Joy, which is first mentioned, is love on wings; peace, which follows, is love folding its wings, and nestling under the wings of God; longsuffering is love enduring; gentleness is love in society; goodness is love in activity, faith is love confiding; meekness is love stooping; temperance is true self-love, and the proper regard for our own real interests, which is as much the duty of love, as regard for the interests of others.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, The A.B. Simpson Collection: 32 Classic Works

“Most persons after a step of faith are looking for sunny skies and unruffled seas, and when they meet a storm and tempest they are filled with astonishment and perplexity.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, Days of Heaven Upon Earth

“God’s jewels are often sent us in rough packages and by dark liveried servants, but within we find the very treasures of the King’s palace and the Bridegroom’s Love.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson, Days of Heaven Upon Earth

“The greatest need of our age and of every age, the greatest need of every human heart, is to know the resources and sufficiency of God.”
― Albert Benjamin Simpson

Prayer of Humility

by Charles Belmonte

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Lord Jesus.
From the desire of being loved,
From the desire of being extolled,
From the desire of being honored,
From the desire of being praised,
From the desire of being preferred to others,
From the desire of being consulted,
From the desire of being approved,
From the fear of being humiliated,
From the fear of being despised,
From the fear of suffering rebukes,
From the fear of being calumniated,
From the fear of being forgotten,
From the fear of being ridiculed,
From the fear of being wronged,
From the fear of being suspected,
That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I,
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease,
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
That others may be preferred to me in everything,
That others may become holier than I, 

provided that I may become as holy as I should.

Repurposed

by Jalisa Wenger
Used by permission

I'm a vessel "marred and broken,"
Hopeless on the ground I lie.
Once I thrilled to do His service;
Now those dreams are doomed to die.

But I feel Him gently lifting.
Hopeful in His hands I wait.
Could it be that He can use me
When I thought I'd met my fate?

"I will mend you if you're willing.
You will never be the same,
But with richer, fuller service
You will glorify My name."

Now I am a mended vessel.
See, my scars with gold are bound!
Once again, I serve Him daily!
Greater joy cannot be found!

Cleansing

Crowds of greedy merchants advertising wares.

Duties. Hobbies. Shopping. Having time to spare.

Vying for attention, crowding every space,

This den of thieves

My life bereaves

Of time for prayer and praise.

 Jesus, cleanse this temple; sanctify my mind.

Banish thieving thoughts for stealing precious time.

Then with peaceful silence flowing through my soul,

I join Him there

In the House of Prayer

And rise—refreshed and whole.

-Jalisa Wenger

One day a few months ago, I was playing the Bible Friends story tape for David and Andrew when the story about Jesus cleansing the temple came on.  Suddenly I heard it in a whole new way and was inspired to write this poem.  This is an area I need to work on--not one I've attained well.

Growing Old by Wanda B. Goines

Wanda B. Goines is a precious 92-year-old woman who shares great wisdom through a poem she wrote and recited to her caretaker, Kathryn Clausnitzer Wilson. Kathryn loved the poem so much that she recorded Wanda reciting the poem and shared it on Facebook. With over 4.5 million views and 187,000 shares, Wanda's sweet poem went viral!

To see Wanda B. Goines quote the poem she wrote, click on this link:

 http://features.faithtap.com/4222/92-year-old-woman-writes-beautiful-poem-that-goes-viral/

Wanda shared these great words in the video:

"I looked in the mirror and what did I see, but a little old lady peering back at me. With bags and sags and wrinkles and wispy white hair, and I asked my reflection, how did you get there? You once were straight and vigorous and now you're stooped and weak. When I tried so hard to keep you from becoming an antique. My reflection's eyes twinkled as she solemnly replied, you're looking at the gift wrap and not the jewel inside. A living gem and precious of unimagined worth. Unique and true, the real you, the only you on earth. The years that spoil your gift wrap with other things more cruel, should purify and strengthen and polish up that jewel. So focus your attention on the inside, not the out, on being kinder, wiser, more content, and more devout. Then when your gift wrap is stripped away, your jewel will be set free to radiate God's glory throughout eternity."

Many people commented on Wanda's poem, thanking her for such beautiful words, while Wanda's great granddaughter, Libby Goines, and Kathryn were amazed by the huge response.

Dust If You Must

Dust If You Must
by Rose Milligan

Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.

Used by permission from John M. Sweeney on whose website this was found (www.johnmsweeney.com)


Note from Lois:
Along the line of dusting, we can make quick work of dusting and still have plenty of time for other adventures and productive activities.  Here's how!

Purchase several lamb's wool dusters, which will grab the dust for you much more quickly than a dust cloth will.  Don't use the static-filled dusters though (usually bright colors). The static they cause while dusting is not good to use near electrical appliances, and the dust clings much better to lamb's wool.  The job of dusting can be done in about ten minutes with lamb's wool dusters, and still give you plenty of time for other things.

Simply dust over furniture and decorative items quickly with a lamb's wool duster until it is filled with dust.  Then use the next one and take several dusters outside at one time to hit against your hand to make the dust fly. 

90% of People Can't Pronounce This Whole Poem. You Have to Try It

http://www.tickld.com/x/90-of-people-cant-pronounce-this-whole-poem-you-have-to-try-it

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world.

After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he'd prefer six months of hard labor to reading six lines aloud.

Dearest creature in creation, 
Study English pronunciation. 
I will teach you in my verse 
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. 
I will keep you, Suzy, busy, 
Make your head with heat grow dizzy. 
Tear in eye, your dress will tear. 
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

Just compare heart, beard, and heard, 
Dies and diet, lord and word, 
Sword and sward, retain and Britain. 
(Mind the latter, how it's written.) 
Now I surely will not plague you 
With such words as plaque and ague. 
But be careful how you speak: 
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; 
Cloven, oven, how and low, 
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery, 
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, 
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, 
Exiles, similes, and reviles; 
Scholar, vicar, and cigar, 
Solar, mica, war and far; 
One, anemone, Balmoral, 
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; 
Gertrude, German, wind and mind, 
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.

Billet does not rhyme with ballet, 
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. 
Blood and flood are not like food, 
Nor is mould like should and would. 
Viscous, viscount, load and broad, 
Toward, to forward, to reward. 
And your pronunciation's OK 
When you correctly say croquet, 
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, 
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour 
And enamour rhyme with hammer. 
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, 
Doll and roll and some and home. 
Stranger does not rhyme with anger, 
Neither does devour with clangour. 
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, 
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, 
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, 
And then singer, ginger, linger, 
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, 
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query does not rhyme with very, 
Nor does fury sound like bury. 
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. 
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. 
Though the differences seem little, 
We say actual but victual. 
Refer does not rhyme with deafer. 
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. 
Mint, pint, senate and sedate; 
Dull, bull, and George ate late. 
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, 
Science, conscience, scientific.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven, 
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. 
We say hallowed, but allowed, 
People, leopard, towed, but vowed. 
Mark the differences, moreover, 
Between mover, cover, clover; 
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, 
Chalice, but police and lice; 
Camel, constable, unstable, 
Principle, disciple, label.

Petal, panel, and canal, 
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. 
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, 
Senator, spectator, mayor. 
Tour, but our and succour, four. 
Gas, alas, and Arkansas. 
Sea, idea, Korea, area, 
Psalm, Maria, but malaria. 
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. 
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian, 
Dandelion and battalion. 
Sally with ally, yea, ye, 
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. 
Say aver, but ever, fever, 
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. 
Heron, granary, canary. 
Crevice and device and aerie.

Face, but preface, not efface. 
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. 
Large, but target, gin, give, verging, 
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. 
Ear, but earn and wear and tear 
Do not rhyme with here but ere. 
Seven is right, but so is even, 
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, 
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, 
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.

Pronunciation -- think of Psyche! 
Is a paling stout and spikey? 
Won't it make you lose your wits, 
Writing groats and saying grits? 
It's a dark abyss or tunnel: 
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, 
Islington and Isle of Wight, 
Housewife, verdict and indict.

Finally, which rhymes with enough -- 
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? 
Hiccough has the sound of cup. 
My advice is to give up!!!