The full context is described on that site – Hope & Glory. But here is the poem:
HOPE
Hope, when we are weary and Hope, when we are down We know that those who turn to God will wear His Victor’s crown Our God will work all things to good, for those who know His love And seek His Holy purposes; His guidance from above
No need to fear the future, uncertain though it seems Our hope is in God’s promises; beyond our little dreams His plans are so much greater, our future in His care With God our days are certain, for He will take us there
“There” is where we’re meant to be; to prosper in His love Protected from our enemy; watched over from above “There”, living in His love and peace, and in His perfect will We find that He was always “Hope” and know that He is, still
Our Father is eternal, with Him no shifting sands Our Hope is everlasting, when held within His hands So here and now we worship Him; our God the Three in One The Hope of all creation; in Father, Spirit, Son
Lord Jesus, You’re our Living Hope; in coming here to earth You sealed our Father’s perfect will by giving us new birth And now that You’re within us, we have Your hope of Glory Our future held within the One who wrote our lifetime story
All glory be to God on High, the only God who saves Who keeps the earth in balance; who rules the restless waves And knows each man and woman and sees each tiny flower We worship and adore You; our Hope in every hour.
A Prayer
My prayer for you is:
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13 NIVUK
We were due to leave Madeira on 17th February but, late in the day before, our afternoon flight was postponed for over 8 hours by an incoming storm and we would have arrived back in the UK at 4.00am. Not a happy ending to our restful holiday and Roger was totally set against it! Some stress set in..
So, we prayed. And others very kindly prayed, too. The outcome was good! Our flights were changed free of charge to Thursday 20th and we found a very good value place to stay for 3 more days. It turned out to be the Churchill Bay Hotel – a shortish taxi ride from the accommodation we were leaving, but in a fishing village called Camara de Lobos.
Journey to the Churchill Bay
We saw God’s hand clearly in our change of plans. The taxi driver who drove us was a good English speaker. His name was Mario and he had just lost his wife of 52 years, Maria. The opportunity to talk to him about eternal life in Jesus was so open and easy and he was very moved. We shared the love of God and His invitation to be born again. We spoke of our own experience. By the time we got out of the taxi, we knew that the Holy Spirit had used us to comfort Mario and give him hope. It was a beautiful experience.
The Churchill Bay Hotel
As soon as we arrived here we were excited. What a great place to stay! And we sensed that this was a place where the Lord would speak about His future plans for us. The storm that changed our plans was His plan all along!
Winston Churchill honoured here…
Early next morning
This is my journal entry for 18th February:
It’s early morning. In fact it’s very early… I actually woke before 4.am to the sound of the heavily crashing waves stirred up by last night’s storm. Our hotel room with its street level balcony is right next to the small harbour of this fishing village called Camara de Lobos. The sea is only yards away.
I had hoped to sleep again but it has proved elusive, so here I am sitting in the small chair in the corner of this small hotel bedroom, writing.
This historic Madeiran Pousada – the Churchill Bay – has now been converted into a small modern hotel. Once, this fishing harbour provided a welcome holiday resting place for the great wartime leader Winston Churchill. He came here in 1950, after the Second World War, to paint the local scenes and generally, I imagine, to recover from the intense pressures and reverberations in his own mind, heart and spirit, following that terrible war and its aftermath. He had led nations and inspired and directed armies into victory against a dark enemy, but he was just a man.
The inspiration of his life is very present in this building – his memorable words are written in large letters on the hallway walls and murals of his paintings are a striking part of the bedroom decor.
The price of greatness is responsibility.
So, as I reflect this morning, I think not only of the man, Winston, but his Creator. The One whose words are eternal and life giving. Our God is worthy to be worshipped and praised for ever.
I’ve just looked up the Bible verse for today:
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9 NIVUK
Inspiration for the future
Today, in February 2025, the issues are great in this world. We are so little and weak in the face of them. I may not be a Churchill, but my own calling – along with Roger – is to cry out to God for the United Kingdom – my own nation – at this time, as we fight our enemies within and without.
We are so weak, but God is so powerful. And His grace is sufficient for us. His power is made perfect in our weaknesses.
I wrote a poem about 10 days ago while here in Madeira. It was a painful reflection on the present need to bring the UK back from its accelerated slide into godless values.
But here at The Churchill Bay, where we heard a storm rage from a sheltered place, God has encouraged us to have hope in His future.
We are truly encouraged by the turn around in the USA, where God’s people cried out to Him for help over many dark years.
My poem: “Bring this nation back“
Our nation is in stress and strain, under a heavy yoke Of spirits dark and chafing, which burden us with “woke” There is no light appearing, save that of God’s true Light That cannot be extinguished, in deepest, blackest night
The truths that they are telling us, are many barefaced lies The facts are often missing, or hidden by disguise We are an island people. We have a sovereign power But our true King is needed. This is a darkening hour.
The twisting of our history. Our children hurt and lost Erasing their identity - they pay an awful cost Their lives are being sacrificed, on altars hewn by hell And blinded leaders worship there, while under Satan’s spell
The people are in deep distress, “help us to live!” they cry But “no” - the answer comes to them - “yet, we will help you die!” We will erase the pain of life, so you can feel no more As we destroy your nation fair, from east to western shore
The green that you have loved so much. That green will disappear Under these heavy concrete slabs, that even now draw near The workers grunt in unison beneath such heavy weights While marching metal shall appear at Britain’s ancient gates
But now a stir within my heart, for all is not yet lost We will reclaim our heritage and pay the awful cost The price to bring our nation back is met by our true King Oh Jesus - we cry out to You, as Lord of everything!
For we have heard that You once trod, upon this nation fair And still tread now, with those who will Your Royal Standard bear You are the King of glory - stretch out Your sceptre’d hand Fling wide our ancient doors and gates, o green and pleasant land!
The King of glory shall come in, He is our Lord of might He leads His Royal warriors to conquer in this fight Lift high His Royal Standard, it shall not suffer loss Our battles are already won - by power of His Cross!
Let God Arise!
I concluded my poem with a bridge to the words of the English hymn “Jerusalem” because that’s how the Holy Spirit inspired me. Here they are.
Let God arise and His enemies be scattered!
Jesus is the Risen King.
His Name is above all names and it is our battle cry!
And did those feet in ancient time walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God on England's pleasant pastures seen? And did the countenance divine shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here among those dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire! I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant Land.
The Bakery 