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The Grumbler |
Do you know a chronic grumbler? I'm sure we all do. Grumblers are people who are
complainers, murmurs, discontent, unhappy, growlers and continuous.
The bottom line is that they are people that no one enjoys being around,
except maybe other grumblers. As they say, misery loves company!
Many years ago, a
dear older sister from Michigan, Sis Turner, used to recite a poem at campmeeting about grumblers and she would sing a little song that
went along with it. I wish I knew all the words to it, but one part
of it says:
Oh they
grumble on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Grumble on Thursday too!
Grumble on Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
Grumble the whole week through.
If someone has the
words to the rest of this song or the poem she recited, please
e-mail them to us at
Back2theBible@aol.com
The Bible says in
Philippians 2:13-15
For it is God
which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good
pleasure. Do all things without murmurings and disputings:
That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without
rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among
whom ye shine as lights in the world.
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The Grumbler's
Poem
I knew a man whose name was Horner
Who used to live in grumble corner;
Grumble corner in crosspatch town
And he never was seen without a frown.
He grumbled at this, and he grumbled at that,
He growled at the dog. He growled at the cat.
He grumbled at morning. He grumbled at night,
And to grumble and growl was his chief delight.
He grumbled so much at his wife that she
Began to grumble as well as he.
And all the children, wherever they went,
Reflected their parent's discontent.
If the sky was dark and betokened rain,
Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain.
And if there was not a cloud about,
He grumbled because of a threatened drought.
His meals were never to suit his taste—
He grumbled at having to eat in haste.
The bread was poor, or the meat was tough--
Or else he hadn't had half enough.
No matter how hard his wife would try
To please her husband, with scornful eye
He'd look around and then with a scowl
At something or other he'd begin to growl.
One day as I walked down the street,
My old acquaintance I chanced to meet;
Whose face was without the look of care
And the ugly frown that had drifted there.
"I may be mistaken" perhaps I said
As after saluting I turned my head!
"But it is, and it isn't the Mr. Horner
Who used to live on grumble corner."
I met him next day and I met him again;
In melting weather and in pelting rain.
When stocks were up, and when stocks were down,
But a smile, somehow, had replaced the frown.
It puzzled me much, and so one day,
I seized his hand in a friendly way and said,
"Mr. Horner, I'd like to know
What can have happened to change you so?"
He laughed a laugh that was good to hear;
For it told of a conscience, calm and clear.
And he said with none of his old-time drawl,
"Why I've changed my residence, that is all.
"Yes," said Horner, "It wasn't healthy on grumble corner"
And so I've moved: twas a change complete,
"And you will find me now
On Thanksgiving Street."
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