Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Sail on

Sail On

My Father knows what’s in my soul –

Unlike me who can watch the waters for

a glimpse of life just below the surface;

yet all I see is my own reflection

of a distant yearning.

My Father knows my potential –

unlike me when I become discouraged;

when passions within battle for recognition;

when a pebble tossed creates mere ripples which

to me appear as waves.

My Father knows my innermost desires –

Though my needs, to me,

are frequently intensified;

panic sending waves of emotion crashing

upon my jagged shore.

My Father gives me peace –

The tranquil calm that laps soothingly upon my

beaten spirit; though the channel splatters

me against rocks of uncertainty, my eternal

destination quiets the turmoil. I sail on.


Monday, February 14, 2011



Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thanks whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced not cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Three Doors

Three Doors

As morning breaks through windowpane,
A growing light is softly lain.
I sit alone, upon the floor,
Here before me, lies three doors.

As my eyes behold the growing light
The doors appear before my site,
I then realize that I must choose.
So much to gain, so much to lose!

One door leads down darkened paths
Broken dreams and troubled pasts.
The "natural man" says "Through this walk"...
Where Satan rules and Demons stalk!

Horrified; I then refuse!!
This choice would mean; my soul too lose!
Still darkness seems to draw me in,
"There is no law; There is no sin."

This cannot be; this is not truth!
For I was taught while in my youth.
Our God imparts to every man,
The knowledge of His gracious plan.

The second door doth now appear,
Through this door there is no fear.
A rosy path; so well worn.
For these roses have no thorns.

My soul desires to walk this way,
Amid the light of perfect day,
For "Rest and Peace" my soul doth seek.
But will this path make me weak?

"This path is easy, it is true,
The choice to make is up to you.
To walk this path you must know,
You will not learn, you will not grow".

Then behind the third door, words were spoken;
"You cannot enter unless you open.
Then I will come and heal your soul,
Life evermore you will know"

"You will still know pain and sorrow,
The Balm of Gilead, you will borrow,
But here you will not walk alone;
For this path will lead you home"

William E Lee
Copyright 2011)

Monday, August 2, 2010

My Name

My Name

Father does Thou know my name?
A single soul of little worth,
Who unlike Thy begotten Son
No angels voice declared my birth.

From Thy throne lifted high
Always bathed in perfect light.
Can Thine eye behold this place,
Too often veiled in endless night?

Does Thou here me when I cry,
From sorrows in my life, I've known?
Does a voice as weak as mine
Ascend the distance to Thy throne?

I was taught while in my youth,
Thou knowest even the sparrow's fall.
Of the creations of Thy hands,
Surely I am the least of all!

Then in my soul a voice was heard,
It quiet majesty it did proclaim;
"Peace be unto you my son.
Dear William, I do know thy name.

William E. Lee

Friday, May 21, 2010

Thy Wondrous Plan

Thy Wondrous Plan

Hear me Father as I cry,
Once again the question; Why?
Hold in Thine my trembling hand
As now I seek to understand.

My once secure and sound belief,
Now shaken in this hour of grief
Hide not Thy face on yonder throne,
Draw near and leave me, not alone.

From this darkness, set me free,
With mortal eyes that cannot see.
A smaller part of a greater plan
Known to Thee, believed by man.

In whispered voice, we seek to bless
This precious child, now at rest.
Who more than us now understands
The mysteries of, Thy wondrous plan.

Oh my Father, I believe!
But questions come when we must grieve.
Hear me Father, as I pray.
Why this child? Why this day?

A still small voice, I now can hear
"Cheer up your heart and do not fear,
Hold in thine hand the iron rod
Be still and know that I am God"!

A child has brought me to this place
Where love and faith my fears erase.
Known to Thee, now known to man
The mysteries of, Thy wondrous plan.

Dedicated to: Brett Thomas Clarke

William E. Lee

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Eternal Day

Eternal Day

Look not with grief upon this place
Remove the sadness from thy face.
Lift up your face rejoice this day
The stone has now been rolled away!

Two angels stand to this they bear
The risen Lord he is not there.
He lives! To this the song we sing
Indeed, "Oh death where is thy sting"?

The battle fought, the battle won,
Behold our Lord, behold His Son.
See him walk beside the sea
That we of men may fishers be.

The empty tomb before us stands
Like evermore, now come to man.
For every soul who'll thus obey
The breaking dawn of eternal day.

With fervent voice we must proclaim
The risen Lord in joyous strain.
Our voices one now here us sing,
To our "Savior, Lord and King"

Did not our hearts within us burn
When of his love we first did learn?
That he for us would bleed and die
Oh precious gift for such as I.

From heavens gate, to mortal womb
From open grave, to empty tomb.
Once bound with chain to the earth
Now in death we find new birth.

With God and angels we shall dwell
We'll sing this chorus, "All is well."
Praise his name and honor give
That we with him may someday live.

In wilderness we shall not roam
The guide has come to lead us home.
His blood now spilt to mark the way
The breaking dawn of eternal day.

William E. lee
Copyright 1996

Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Bench

The Bench

I sat upon the bench one day,
That I might watch the world at play.
I did not see the fading light
Upon the bench I spent the night.

But then the day began anew,
The rising sun came to my view,
I thought that I might linger still,
Upon the bench, at my own will.

But soon the days became a week;
I could not move nor could I speak.
The weeks now months, turned to years
I view the world through my own tears.

As seasons rolled on steady track
Children brought their children back.
Yet here upon the bench I stay,
That I might watch the world at play.

All that I've seen should make one wise
The changing world before my eyes.
But wisdom's gift I shall not give,
Afraid of life I did not live!

William E. Lee
Copyright 1996

Thursday, November 12, 2009


I needed the quiet so he drew me aside
Into the shadows where we could confide,
Away from the bustle where all the day long
I hurried and worried when active and strong.
I needed the quiet tho at first I rebelled,
But gently, so gently my cross he upheld,
And whispered so sweetly of spiritual things,
Tho weakened in body, my spirit took wings
To heights never heard of when active and gay,
He loved me so greatly he drew me away.
I needed the quiet, no prison my bed,
But a beautiful valley of blessings instead –
A place to grow richer in Jesus to hide
I needed the quiet so he drew me aside.–

Alice H. Mortenson

Friday, September 25, 2009

For Thee Father

For Thee Father

For Thee Father, I will seek
With eyes that cannot see.
For Thy children who are lost,
And bring them unto Thee.

For Thee father, I will speak,
With tongue now bound with fear.
With these lips I will share
Thy truth that all may hear.

For Thee Father, I will love
With heart too often weak.
From the abundance of my heart
Kind words my mouth will speak.

For Thee Father, I will touch
With cold and callused hand.
With the Master's healing touch,
From Thee now come to man.

For Thee Father, I will stand
On trembling or bended knee.
The sword of truth I will bare,
My trust I place in Thee.

For Thee Father, I will go
With heavy feet of clay.
On my shoulders I will bare
A wandering soul this day.

For Thee Father, I give myself
Thy servant I will be.
For Thee Father, this I do,
Thou did it unto me.

William E. Lee
August 1995
Copyright 1996

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Gift

The Gift

As my Father said goodbye
He gave this gift to me.
I would one day use the gift
To set the captive free.

His commands I would obey,
My life would be a light.
A candle set within the world
To pierce the darkest night.

I would bind the open wound
And heal the deepest pain.
Cause the mourner to rejoice
And bring them home again.

But as I grew from boy to man
My fears they did increase.
My faith began to waiver
My desire began to cease.

Absent in my efforts
To help and lift my brother,
Because I did not use the gift
He gave it to another.

A gift to me was given
That I might one day use.
But fear became my master
The gift I did refuse.

"For God hath not given is the spirit of fear; But of power"
2 Tim 1: 7

William E Lee
Copyright 1995

Faded Flowers

Faded Flowers

Faded Flowers o'er my head
Once alive, now with me dead.
Did those I love my name forget?
Has time errased my sad regret?
From this world I did depart
Amid bitter tears and broken heart!
Now I lie here alone,
My name engraved on sanded stone.
Here in Sheol my body waits,
For heaven's trump to seal my fate.
Now strangers walk before my face
With no respect for this place.
Here alone, I'll spend my hours
With changing seasons and faded flowers.

William E Lee
Copyright 1996

Friday, September 4, 2009

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

Emily Bronte
(From the same named poem)

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Along The Road

Along The Road

I walked a mile with Pleasure.
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne'er a word said she;
But, oh the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!

Robert Browning Hamiton

The God we Believe

The God We Believe

The human mind, cannot conceive
Of the God, that we believe.
Any attept to thus define,
Occurs within the frenzied mind!

But, the human heart can conceive
Of the God, that we believe.
For only there, can we see
The secrets of eternity.

William E Lee

The Path

The Path

I embark upon a journey,
It's purpose well defined.
Is it in the physical
Or only in my mind?

The path now lies before me
A path which is my own,
Though others walk beside me
This path I walk alone.

For some the path is different
For all the path unique,
The proud it maketh humble
The strong it maketh weak.

Millions go before me
And yet I am the first,
To walk along the path
Driven only by my thirst.

In search of living water
Once found at Jacob's well.
That I may thrist no more
My doubts and fears dispelled.

To fill the void inside me
With that of greatest worth,
To find the hidden treasure
For which I came to earth.

Tho' blinded by the darkness
The Light, I still can see.
Tho' deafened by the silence
His voice still calls to me.

"Give unto me thy burdens
For you this is the test.
To put thy faith in Me,
That I may give you rest".

"The path now lies before thee
True it is thine own,
Just follow in my footsteps
The path will lead you home".

William E Lee
Copyright 1997

Come Not Here, To Mourn

Come Not Here, To Mourn

The wind it blows so cold here
And yet I am so warm.
The clouds they gather darkness
But here there is no storm.

Loved ones come to see me
Such sadness on their face.
I know not why they come here,
I dwell not in this place.

Even when they must come,
Their visits are so brief.
They come here seeking comfort,
Yet leave with pain and grief.

It's true my body lies here
In this prison with no bars;
But soon will rise triumphant,
To soar as an eagle through the stars.

The place in which I dwell now,
There is time and space.
I've come to rest from labor
Now you must run the race.

Why do they so oft forget
What the angel to Mary said?
"Why seek ye the living
Here among the dead?"

So if you still must come here
Of this please let me warn;
Come to seek and praise your God,
But come not here, to mourn.

William E Lee
December 25, 1989
Copyright 1996

He Hath Called Me Friend

He Hath Called Me Friend

He stands upon the mountians-- Zech 14: 4
He walks upon the sea. --John 6: 19
He entered into prison --1 Peter 3: 18-21
To set the captive free.
--1 Peter 4: 6

His name is Wonderful, Counselor, --Isaiah 9: 6
Everlasting Father, The Mighty God. --
2 Nephi 19: 6
He leads those through the darkness --1 Nephi 8: 23-24
Who hold tight the iron rod.
--1 Nephi 8: 19

He is one who builds a ship-- 1 Nephi 17: 8
With hands that have no skill, --Gen 6: 14
For nothing is impossible
--Matt 19: 26
To those who seek his will.
--1 Nephi 3: 7

He exalts the righteous King --Mosiah 2: 14
Who labors with his hands.

He burns the king as stubble --Mosiah 19: 20
Who reveals his wicked plans.

He is strength to the Stripling Warrior-- Alma 56: 56
Who pursues the righteous cause.
He destroys the wicked armies --Alma 44: 19
Who remember not his laws.

He is our source of courage
While facing all our fears,
--1 Tim 1: 7
He is our source of comfort
--Matt 5: 4
While in this veil of tears.
--3 Nephi 12: 4

He was wounded for our transgressions,
--Isaiah 53: 5
He was brusied for our iniquities.
By his stripes we are healed,
-- Mosiah 14: 5
Once blind we now can see. --Matt 11: 5

He is Alpha and Omega
The Beginning and the End.
--Rev 21: 6
The Author of Salvation
-- Heb 5: 9
And, "He" hath called me friend.-- D&C 84: 77

William E Lee

Copyright 1996

Signs Of Courage

Signs of Courage

The signs of courage,
For the brave
Is not the flag
That marks his grave.
Nor is it,
That he gave his life
For others in
A time of strife.
Nor in the words
That others speak
Of his life,
To inspire the weak.
But it is
As with all men,
The fears he faces
From within.

William E. Lee
Caleb Lee

Tuesday, September 1, 2009



The scripture seemed to read,
As once again I’d look.
The scripture clearly said,
Annoyed I closed the book.
The Spirit softly spoke,
Startled I did fear.
The Spirit louder spoke,
I pretended not to hear.
The Saviour said to me,
I quickly questioned , Why?
The Saviour said again,
“For this I came to die.”

Then bitterly I cried out
How canst thou know my pain?
The wounds that I have suffered
My tears that fell like rain.
The quietly he spoke my name
And said, “I understand”.
Reached out that he may lift me
With wounds in both his hands.
Ashamed I said, How can I?
He reminded me again,
“For he who will not forgive,
In him lies the greater sin.”

The scripture seemed to read,
As once again I’d look.
The scripture clearly read,
I then embraced the book.
The Spirit softly spoke,
Now I did not fear.
The Spirit said again,
Once deaf, I now can hear.
The Saviour said to me,
“To you this gift I give.”
The Savior said again,
“Do this and ye shall live.”

William E. Lee
Copyright 1996

I Am I Said

"Simple Pleasures...are the last refuge of the complex."

Oscar Wilde, 1854-1900

I Am I Said

"I am," I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
"I am", I cried
"I am," said I
And I am lost and I can't even say why
Leavin' me lonely still.

Neil Diamond

What God Hath Promised

What God Hath Promised

God hath not promised
Skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways
All out lives through;
God hath not promised
Sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow,
Peace without pain.

But God hath promised
Strength for the day,
Rest for the labor,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy,
Undying love.

Annie Johnson Flint

Monday, August 31, 2009

When My Mother Prays

When My Mother Prays

When my mother prays
Angels take their flight.
To guard my way by day,
To protect me in the night.

When I forget in whom I trust
And bow on bended knee,
There is one who won't forget
To pled my case to Thee.

In darkness I have walked
Not knowing well the cost.
A voice was heard on high
Before my soul was lost.

In sickness and in health
Circumstances tho' they be,
My name Thou can't forget
When my Mother prays for me.

In the purest form of love
Her prayers for me are heard.
In language known to angels,
In the simple spoken word.

And yet these words ascend
To Thy throne exalted high.
Request for promised blessings
Which Thou cannot deny.

Blessed is her name,
Her devotion knows no bounds.
In her quit secret place
On her knees she will be found.

With courage, I will face
The trials of coming days.
The heavens shake for my good
When my Mother prays.

(William E. Lee)
Copyright 1995



We are all blind until we see
That in the human plan
Nothing is worth the making if
It does not make the man.

Why build these cities glorious
If the man unbuilded goes?
In vain we build the world, unless
The builder also grows.

(Edwin Markham)

Death, Be Not Proud

Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go--
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!
Thou art slave to fate and chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die,

(John Donne)



He drew a circle that shut me out--
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

(Edwin Markham)

Friday, August 28, 2009

The Standard of Truth

The Standard of Truth

The standard of truth has been erected; no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing; persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent , till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done.
(HC 4:540) (Joseph Smilh)


Conscience makes cowards of us all

You don't have to be religious to have a soul; Everybody has one. You don't have to be religious to perfect your soul.; I have found saintliness in avowed atheists.
(Rabbi Harold Kushner)

The best educated human being is the one who understands most about the life in which he (or she) is placed.
(Helen Keller)

Dying for one's faith is easy, living one's faith is much more difficult.

Oh Yeah, life goes on. Long after the thrill of living is gone.
(John Cougar Mellencamp)

We Few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
(Shakespear 1599, St Crispen day speech)

A Zealot: One who is illuminated and blinded by the same light.

The ordinary man is involved in action, the hero acts. An immense difference.
(Henry Miller)

God does not judge anyone based on the outcome of the war. But he does judge us based on how (or if) we fought the battles.

This is as true in everyday life as it is in battle: we are given one life and the decission is ours whether to wait for circumstances to make up our mind, or whether to act and, in acting, to live.
(Gen Omar Bradley)

The wisdom of man can be found among the ruins of every fallen civilization; The wisdom of God cannot.

The closer a man gets to heaven or hell, the more entrenched he becomes in this world.


The Creed

There is a destiny that makes us brothers, none goes his way alone.
All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.

Edwin Markham (from "The Creed")

A Higer Tier

I would be content
To remain in hell,
If from it's walls
I could expel
Those I love
To heavens gate,
To spare them from
This awful fate.
But, alas this thing
I cannot do.
The choice to make
Is up to you.
I pray we meet
In heavens sphere,
Then be lifted to
A higer tier.

(William E Lee)
Copyright July 2001

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Across the Hills

Across The Hills

Today I walked across the hills
Green carpets filled with daffodils.
Lives once lived but now forgotten,
Remembered not by those begotten.

An eagle rides upon the wind
He rises high then falls again.
Unaware of that which lies below
Forgotten dreams, now silent souls.

Children who once mourned parent’s death
Now themselves are laid to rest.
Generations past, a new day dawns,
Generations now, where have they gone?

Tears once shed here in this place
The passing time will soon erase.
Painful memories they once did fear,
Now bittersweet they hold so dear.

The righteous say, "we rise again".
The godless say, "this is the end".
The foolish say, "I do not know".
The dying say, "just let me go"!

All is vain I’ve heard some say,
Life is hard then slips away.
And yet the whisper, “It will not end.”
A still small voice, “We rise again.”

Man, he rises out of the dust,
Live he will, and love he must.
Then with age his eyes turn down
To lay to rest here in this ground.

Spring it struggles to arise
White clouds amid the dark blue sky,
Yet on the wind a winter chills
Today I walked across the hills.

(William E. Lee)
April 1994
Copyright 96

Laying Down the Sword

Laying Down the Sword

Fractured light against the sky
As clouds conceal the westward flight,
Autumn colors that brightly shine
Announce the coming of the night.

The day is ending, as it should
Content that I have done my best,
While others bid me labor on
I desire to be at rest.

With the ending now before me
To the victor goes the race,
The finish line is clearly drawn
In the lines upon my face.

Like a warrior from the battle
For peace my soul doth seek,
The spirit strong and willing
The flesh so very weak.

Weep not for me my children
Weep not for me my friend,
This is a new beginning
And, not a tragic end.

I am called to others labors
In the service of my Lord,
I’m not giving up the battle
I’m just laying down my sword.

(William E. Lee)
December 1998
Copyright 1998

Dedicated to:

Mary Margaret Bourne McQuade