Among the firs that crowd around,
A tree with leaves stands tall and green;
Nothing so grand, nothing seen,
Caused this aspen to be found.
Only when a cold wind blew
Was the tree revealed to view;
No great marvel, world-famed sight
Gave my spirit such delight.
Dancing silver, top to ground,
Clothed the tree--all joy begowned;
But then the wind died midst the trees,
All beauty fled with the lost breeze.
As I write a chill wind blows,
I see the aspen sharp and clear;
It raises issues I propose,
What happened to the God we fear?
Has He changed? Or is He dead?
Both were popularly said.
"Not so!" held Myrtle and her Bill.
"God is alive, and with us still!"
The aspen cannot win; the firs, they say,
Will squeeze and starve it out one day;
Its only chance--and this I sing--
Knowledge, stature, from the King.
To live according to His call
Will raise the aspen nobly tall;
And so it was, with Myrtle, Bill,
They grew toward heaven with one will.
Each year saw them taller yet,
The battle's end was not quite set;
The cold wind blew, but--lo, look there!
The aspen tree--a sight most fair!
His profession, horticulture,
Bill's fine work was always sought;
College-trained landscaper,
Bill took pride in S.L.S.*
He blessed with work a thousand boys;
Spring and summer work for him,
Helped out when their funds grew slim.
Who can put a price on it,
The golden tan, the honest sweat?
The toil rewarded with a check,
And, "Well done!" Bill said, whene'er it fit.
His sons all learned their father's trade;
It taught them how to be self-made;
Do hard work, give it your best,
And customers will do the rest.
A Christian businessman, Bill was,
Steering right in all he does;
If a client held back pay,
God provided still a way.
With each statement went a tract,
Concern for souls was solid fact;
Customers stayed with him long,
Many still sing the "Lamb's Song".**
House and yard were kept up trim,
Lee Valley was quite suburban;****
Neighbors praised their flower bed,
And ne'er a weed raised its head.
When problems pressed, or trucks broke down,
There was an Answer to be found;
To God they went to start each day--
No ritual, a proven way!
Strength and gladness came from praise,
To give God glory always pays;
-->From prayer, direction from on high,
A perfect guide you cannot buy.
And Myrtle played a mother's part,
always giving was her heart;
Though she had her own to keep,
She never turned away lost sheep.
Her door was open, never shut,
She knew no maybe, or a but;
Whatever someone asked of her,
She supplied, along with prayer.
Many years were passed this way,
Neighbors gave the due respect;
Not one blot their image wrecked,
They acted godly, every day.
The Svanoes always had a goal,
It benefitted body, soul;
Work hard, and enjoy some play,
But be in church on each Sunday.
Faithful nurturing in church,
The Svanoes knew what others search;
Honor God, and blessings flow!
It's life ordained as it should go.
Looking for God's will for man
Made them take not easy stand;
Though others drifted worldward,
They kept on holding to God's Word.
God has honored them in turn,
It takes no wisdom to discern;
A church was born at Lee Valley,***
Its aim is truly: Give God Glory.
Sons and daughters totalled eight,
Quite a showing at the gate!
Somehow cars all held them in,
Packed tight just like a sardine tin.
Bright of mind and talented,
Four are boys, and four are not;
To rear this large brood as they ought,
The children from God's Word were fed.
They were trained in love and law,
But Love was what their children saw;
And Love is what they see today,
So unlike homes of fir, I say!
For Myrtle, Bill, were different than
The firs that spring from shifting sand;
Faith in God, and Christ Jesus--
A Rock that can also anchor us.
With this faith they stood the stress
Of helping others in distress;
With this faith they gave no ground
To whatever was unsound.
With this faith they ran the race,
Growing daily, grace to grace;
The smile that lights both of them
Is Vict'ry that won't ever dim.
And so we see an aspen tall,
It towers o'er the firs below;
Its leaves of silver never fall--
God's Word upheld 'gainst every foe.
The cold wind blew! It tried its worst,
The aspen stood, its roots deep-set
Not in earth so long accursed,
But in Promises well-kept.