Christian Faith

Keep a Bright Face

3/23/2022

Picture of a woman with praying hands overlaid on a picture of a church cathedral interior.

Keep a Bright Face

Keep a bright face, darling,
     Though the task is hard,
Life holds up before you
     Many a bright-faced card.

Though the clouds have gathered
     And darkened all the way,
Rainbows o’er you arching
     Tinge the skies of gray.

You have said what sunshine
     Leaked in with the rain
Only brought new sorrow,
     Brought but grief and pain.

Keep a bright face, darling,
     Set your scales anew,
Weigh again the sunshine
     And the raindrops, too.

And you’ll find your measure
     Hitherto was wrong,
Keep a bright face, darling,
     And on your lips a song.

Heaven decrees our burdens,
     And our faith God tries;
But a broken spirit
     He cannot despise.

Keep a bright face, darling -
     Even while I write,
In the fields of midnight
     Blossom stars of light.

Though the morning cometh
     With a streak of gray,
’Tis a hint of sunshine
     And a perfect day.

Journey slow and patient
     With a purpose strong.
Keep a bright face, darling,
     On your lips a song.

by Kate Slaughter McKinney

Kate Slaughter ‘Katydid’ McKinney, who used Katydid as an author pseudonym, was born on 6 February 1859 in London, Kentucky, United States of America. She became a writer and a poet. In 1931, she was elected Poet Laureate of the state of Alabama. Kate Slaughter ‘Katydid’ McKinney passed on at about 80 years of age in 1939.

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God Will Count Your Honest Try

2/15/2021

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God Will Count Your Honest Try

If in life’s great, onward battle
     You have done your best and lost,
If amid the din and rattle
     You regarded not the cost,
If you met your foeman bravely,
     If you dared to do or die,
God will credit you, most surely,
     For your fearless, honest try.

Have you sometimes felt discouraged,
     Felt that life had lost its charm,
And that every effort failed you,
     Bringing to you only harm?
Look within and ask this question:
      “Have I done my level best?”
If you answer, without guessing,
      “Yes,” then God will do the rest.

Has this neighbor won more glory?
     That one more of earthly store?
Though your hair is thin and hoary,
     Are you poorer than before?
Have you helped, with hands quite willing?
     Have you heard the orphan’s cry?
Given part of your last shilling?
     God will count your honest try.

by William Henry Dawson

William Henry Dawson, also known as W. H. Dawson, was born in 1853. He became a poet. He is the author of the book, “Sunshine of Hope, and Other Poems” (1910). William Henry Dawson passed on at about 75 years of age in 1928.

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Points on Living

1/26/2021

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Points on Living

Try to live for one week without grumbling.

Be severe with yourself, but gentle with other folks.

The men who master situations master themselves first.

Better let favors seek you than spend time seeking for them.

Penitence is the morning star to a brighter and better day.

Faith is the leading characteristic of men of honor and heroism.

The highest type of chivalry is that which serves the commonplace need.

A hope for the future that is not based on right effort in the present is a ‘false hope.’

He who appreciates the help of others most will get the most good out of others.

An understanding heart is superior to an understanding mind, and a religion without emotion is a cold, cheerless affair.

Where there is darkness be a light; where there is a desert be a fountain; where there is need be a giver; where there is trouble be a peacemaker; such are the children of God.

by Author Unknown

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Golfer’s Prayer

12/13/2020

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Golfer’s Prayer

For all the times
     I have swung a club.
For the many friends
     and the game I love.

For the patience I have found
     in sand or rough.
For the excitement of making shots
     thought tough.

For success is not measured
     by holes in one,
But by the times that are shared
     when you are having fun.

Lord would you grant me
     one last request,
To play you a round of the game
     I love best.

by Author Unknown

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Folks Like You

11/16/2020

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Folks Like You

Wouldn’t the world be nice to live in,
     Cheery through and through,
If everyone were just as kind as
     Folks like you.

’Course we can’t get all we aim for
     Every day, it’s true,
But there’s one thing never fails us,
     Folks like you.

Mighty sure when I embark for
     Shores beyond our view,
I shall find that Heaven is only
     Folks like you.

by Author Unknown: as published by P. F. Volland Company (1 January 1916)

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Virtues That Wash

11/15/2020

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Virtues That Wash

In the days before fast-color dyes had been developed, women made dyes from herbs, berries, and roots. Only a few dyes made in this manner were fast-color, and they were eagerly sought after since the others faded.

When a child was born in a minister’s family in Puritan New England, the father wrote the baby’s name in the old family Bible, and beside it this wish: “May the Lord endue her with virtues that wash.”

In language comparing virtues to fast-color dyes, the minister was expressing the hope that his daughter would possess such stable virtues that they would not fade in the repeated launderings of life, but that they would remain to the end as pure and wholesome as they were at the beginning. Too often our characters are so weak that our much-vaunted virtues and lauded goodnesses grow dimmer and dimmer as they are laundered in the suds of temptation in the washtub of life.

In his progress away from barbarism, man has sometimes unwisely divorced himself from virtue and goodness, when what each of us needs is a generous supply of virtues that wash - convictions that will not be shaken, principles that stand firm.

Possessing virtues that wash, we are ready for the world.

by Leo Bennett: as published in Monta H. Crane and Selma Shepherd Downey, compilers: “Sunshine and Shadows” (1973), ‘Book I - From Dawn to Afterglow, Eventide,’ page 97

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A Prayer for Every Day

10/24/2020

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A Prayer for Every Day

Make me too brave to lie or be unkind.
Make me too understanding, too, to mind
The little hurts companions give, and friends,
The careless hurts that no one quite intends.
Make me too thoughtful to hurt others so.

Help me to know
The inmost hearts of those for whom I care,
Their secret wishes, all the loads they bear,
That I may add my courage to their own.
May I make lonely folks feel less alone,
And happy ones a little happier yet.

May I forget
What ought to be forgotten; and recall
Unfailing, all
That ought to be recalled, each kindly thing,
Forgetting what might sting.
To all upon my way,
Day after day,
Let me be joy, be hope! Let my life sing!

by Mary Carolyn Davies

Mary Carolyn Davies was born in about January 1888 in Sprague, Washington, United States of America. She became a poet, a playwright, and a novelist. Mary Carolyn Davies passed on at 86 years of age on 19 May 1974 in Manhattan, New York, United States of America and rests in Vancouver, Washington, United States of America.

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Grace

8/14/2020

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Grace

Give me the grace to care without neglecting my needs,
The humility to assist without rescuing,
The kindness to be clear without being cold,
The mercy to be angry without rejecting,
The prudence to disclose without disrespecting my privacy,
The humor to admit human failings without experiencing shame,
The compassion to give freely without giving myself away.

by Juanita Ryan

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Policeman’s Prayer

7/30/2020

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Policeman’s Prayer

When I start my tour of duty God,
     Wherever crime may be,
as I walk the darkened streets alone,
     Let me be close to thee.

Please give me understanding
     with both the young and old.
Let me listen with attention
     until their story’s told.

Let me never make a judgment
     in a rash or callous way,
but let me hold my patience
     let each man have his say.

Lord if some dark and dreary night,
     I must give my life,
Lord, with your everlasting love
     protect my children and my wife.

by Author Unknown

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The Old Fisherman

6/5/2020

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The Old Fisherman

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. “Why, he’s hardly taller than my eight-year-old,” I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, “Good evening. I’ve come to see if you’ve a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there’s no bus ’til morning.”

He told me he’d been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. “I guess it’s my face . . . I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . .”

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: “I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.”

I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. “No thank you. I have plenty.” And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn’t take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn’t tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children’s room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, “Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won’t put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.” He paused a moment and then added, “Your children made me feel at home.

Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don’t seem to mind.” I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they’d be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. “Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!”

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness’ would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, “If this were my plant, I’d put it in the loveliest container I had!”

My friend changed my mind. “I ran short of pots,” she explained, “and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn’t mind starting out in this old pail. It’s just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.”

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. “He won’t mind starting in this small body.” All this happened long ago - and now, in God’s garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

by Mary Bartels

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The Giveaway

3/9/2020

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The Giveaway

Saint Brigid was
     A problem child.
Although a lass
     Demure and mild,
And one who strove
     To please her dad,
Saint Brigid drove
     The family mad.
For here’s the fault in Brigid lay:
     She would give everything away.

To any soul
     Whose luck was out
She’d give her bowl
     Of stirabout;
She’d give her shawl,
     Divide her purse
With one or all.
     And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
     She’d borrow from a relative.

Her father’s gold,
     Her grandsire’s dinner,
She’d hand to cold
     And hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
     No matter whose;
Take from her feet
     The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
     Fetch forth her sister’s and her mother’s.

She could not quit.
     She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
     The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
     The parlor rug,
Her little
     Niece’s christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
     And then the mattress of her aunt.

An easy touch
     For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
     And grew so holy
That when she died
     Of years and fame,
The countryside
     Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
     With generous girls named Bride or Brigid.

Well, one must love her.
     Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
     Givingness,
There’s no denial
     She must have been
A sort of trial
     Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
     Who had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
     Saint Brigid? Or her near and dear?

by Phyllis McGinley: “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954)

Note: The subject of the poem is Bridget of Kildare (C.E. 450 - C.E. 523), a Christian lass doing the Lord’s work among the Druids in Ireland.

Phyllis McGinley was born on 21 March 1905 in Ontario, Oregon, United States of America. She became writer of children’s books and a poet. Her works include “Glass Houses” (1946), “A Short Walk from the Station (1951), and “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954). Phyllis McGinley passed on at 72 years of age on 22 February 1978 in New York City, New York, United States of America.

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Prayer

2/23/2020

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Prayer

Prayer is the dew of faith,
     Its raindrop, night and day,
That guards its vital power from death
     When cherished hopes decay,
And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
     A bright, perennial evergreen.

Good works, of faith the fruit,
     Should ripen year by year,
Of health and soundness at the root
     And evidence sincere.
Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
     And make our faith no barren tree.

by Lydia H. Sigourney

Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney was born on 1 September 1791 in Norwich, Connecticut, United States of America. She ran a school for girls and young ladies, and wrote 59 books of poetry and prose and more than 2,000 articles for periodicals. Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney passed on at 73 years of age on 10 June 1865 in Hartford, Connecticut, United States of America.

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Policeman’s Prayer

2/1/2020

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Policeman’s Prayer

Lord, I ask for courage, courage to face and conquer my own fears, courage to take me where others will not go. I ask for strength, strength of body to protect others, strength of spirit to lead others. I ask for dedication, dedication to my job to do it well, dedication to my community to keep it safe. Give me, Lord, concern, concern for all those who entrust me, and compassion for those who need me, and please, Lord, through it all, be at my side.

by Author Unknown

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When I Read the Bible Through

1/27/2020

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When I Read the Bible Through

I supposed I knew my Bible
     Reading piecemeal, hit and miss,
Now a bit of John or Matthew,
     Now a snatch of Genesis,
Certain chapters of Isaiah
     Certain Psalms (the twenty-third!);
Twelfth of Romans, First of Proverbs -
     Yes, I thought I knew the Word!
But I found that thorough reading
     Was a different thing to do,
And the way was unfamiliar
     When I read the Bible through.

Oh, the massive, mighty volume!
     Oh, the treasures manifold!
Oh, the beauty of the wisdom
     And the grace it proved to hold!
As the story of the Hebrews
     Swept in majesty along,
As it leaped in waves prophetic,
     As it burst to sacred song,
As it gleamed with Christly omens,
     The Old Testament was new,
Strong with cumulative power,
     When I read the Bible through.

Ah! Imperial Jeremiah,
     With his keen, coruscant mind;
And the blunt old Nehemiah,
     And Ezekiel refined!
Newly came the Minor Prophets
     Each with his distinctive robe,
Newly came the Song idyllic,
     And the tragedy of Job;
Deuteronomy, the regal,
     To a towering mountain grew,
With its comrade peaks around it,
     When I read the Bible through.

What a radiant procession
     As the pages rise and fall,
James the sturdy, John the tender
     O the myriad-minded Paul!
Vast apocalyptic glories
     Wheel and thunder, flash and flame,
While the church triumphant raises
     One incomparable Name.
Ah, the story of the Saviour
     Never glows supremely true
Till you read it whole and swiftly,
     Till you read the Bible through.

You who like to play at Bible,
     Dip and dabble, here and there,
Just before you kneel, aweary,
     And yawn thro’ a hurried prayer;
You who treat the Crown of Writings
     As you treat no other book -
Just a paragraph disjointed,
     Just a crude, impatient look -
Try a worthier procedure,
     Try a broad and steady view;
You will kneel in very rapture
     When you read the Bible through!

by Amos R. Wells

Amos Russel Wells was born on 23 December 1862 in Glens Falls, Warren County, New York, United States of America. He became a college professor, an editor, a poet, and a writer. Amos Russel Wells passed on at 70 years of age on 6 March 1933 in Newton, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, United States of America.

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Prayer

1/26/2020

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Prayer

I know not by what methods rare,
     But this I know, God answers prayer.
I know that He has given His Word,
     Which tells me prayer is always heard
And will be answered, soon or late.
     And so I pray and calmly wait.

I know not if the blessing sought
     Will come in just the way I thought;
But leave my prayers with Him alone,
     Whose will is wiser than my own,
Assured that He will grant my quest,
     Or send some answer far more blest.

by Eliza M. Hickok: as published in James Gilchrist Lawson, editor: “Best Loved Religious Poems” (1933), page 160

Eliza M. Hickok was a minister in the Universalist Unitarian Church, a poet, a hymnist, and the author of the book, “Star Gleams” (1 January 1882).

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God Speak to Me

1/25/2020

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God Speak to Me

The man whispered,
     “God, speak to me.”
And a meadowlark sang.
     But, the man did not hear.

Then the man yelled,
      “God, speak to me.”
Thunder rolled across the sky.
     But, the man did not listen

The man looked around and said,
      “God, let me see you.”
And the stars shined brightly.
     But the man did not notice

And, the man shouted,
      “God, show me a miracle.”
And, a life was born.
     But the man did not know.

So, the man cried out in despair,
      “Touch me God, and let me know you are here.”
Whereupon, God reached down and touched the man.
     But, the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.

So remember,
     Don’t miss out on a blessing because it
Isn’t packaged the way that you expect.
     Take notice of the blessings around you.

by Author Unknown

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Cares

1/23/2020

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Cares

The little cares that fretted me,
     I lost them yesterday
Among the fields above the sea,
     Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing of the herds,
     The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
     The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what may happen,
     I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
     Among the new-mown hay;
Among the husking of the corn
     Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born
     Out in the fields with God.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born on 6 March 1806 in Kelloe, Durham, England. A spinal injury received in a fall from a pony prevented her from attending school as a child. She was married to Robert Browning in 1846. She became a poet. Her poetry was widely popular in both Britain and the United States during her lifetime. Elizabeth Barrett Browning passed on at 55 years of age on 29 June 1861 in Florence, Kingdom of Italy.

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Everything That You Need

1/21/2020

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Everything That You Need

In Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, He is God and Messiah.

In the spirit-filled book of Acts, He is the reigning fire from Heaven.

In Romans, He is the grace of God.

Corinthians, the Power of Love.

Galatians, Freedom from the curse of sin.

Ephesians, our Glorious Treasure.

Philippians, the Servant’s Heart.

Colossians, He is God and the Trinity.

Thessalonians, our calling King.

In Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, He is our mediator and our faithful pastor.

In Hebrews, the Everlasting Courage.

In James, the One who heals the sick.

In 1st and 2nd Peter, our Faithful Shepherd.

In John and Jude, He is the bridegroom coming to his bride.

And in the Revelation, in the very end, when it’s all over, said and done, when time is no more, He is and will always be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, Son of Man, Lamb of God, The Great I Am, Alpha and Omega, God and Savior.

He is Jesus Christ the Lord.

He is everything that you need.

by Author Unknown

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Cleaning House

1/19/2020

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Cleaning House

Last week I threw out worrying,
     It was getting old and in the way.
It kept me from being me;
     I couldn’t do things my way.

I threw out those limiting thoughts;
     They were just crowding me out.
Made room for my new growth,
     Got rid of my “Old Dreams and Doubt.”

I threw out a book on “My Past”
     (Didn’t have time to read it anyway.)
Replaced it with “New Goals,”
     Started reading it today.

I threw out childhood toys
     (Remember how I treasured them so?)
Got me a “New Philosophy,” too,
     Threw out the one from long ago.

Brought in some new books too,
     Called “I Can,” “I Will,” and “I Must.”
Threw out “I Might,” “I Think,” and “I Ought.”
     Wow, you should’ve seen the dust.

I ran across an Old Friend,
     Haven’t seen him in a while.
I believe his name is God,
     Yes, I really like His style.

He helped me to do some cleaning
     And added some things Himself.
Like “Prayer,” “Hope,” and “Faith,”
     Yes, I placed them right on the shelf.

I picked up this special thing
     And placed it at the front door.
I found it - it’s called “Peace.”
     Nothing gets me down anymore.

Yes, I’ve got my house looking nice.
     Looks good around the place.
For things like “Worry” and “Trouble,”
     There just isn’t any place.

It’s good to do a little house cleaning,
     Get rid of the old things on the shelf.
It sure makes things brighter;
     Maybe you should “Try It Yourself.”

by Author Unknown

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Dearest Friend

1/18/2020

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Dearest Friend,

I have many favorite Bible verses that encourage and inspire me. I hope you do also. No matter what season of the year or of our lives, we can all use some encouragement now and then. I hope these verses will bless you this coming year and always.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” -Joshua, chapter 1, verse 9

“Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the Lord is finished.” -1st Chronicles, chapter 28, verse 20

“With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.” -Psalms, Psalm 18, verse 29

“For He will command His angels concerning you in all your ways.” -Psalms, Psalm 91, verse 11

“Those who renew their hopes in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” -Isiah, chapter 40, verse 31

“Do not let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Jesus . . . My father’s house has many rooms. I (Jesus) will come back and take you to be with Him.” -John, chapter 14, verses 1 through 4

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” And verse 28, “It is good to be near God.” -Psalms, Psalm 73, verse 26

When I feel insufficient and weak I must remember . . . Jesus says to you, My grace is sufficient for you.” -1st Corinthians, chapter 12, verse 9

May you know every day of this year that you are blessed, loved, and new!

Love in Christ,

-Noel (December 2013)

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Heaven’s Grocery Store

1/17/2020

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Heaven’s Grocery Store

I was walking down life’s highway, a long time ago.
     One day I saw a sign that read, “Heaven’s Grocery Store.
As I got a little closer, the door came open wide,
     and when I came to myself, I was standing inside.
I saw a host of Angels. They were standing everywhere.
     One handed me a basket and said, “My Child, shop with care.”
Everything a Christian needed was in that grocery store.
     And all you couldn’t carry, you could come back for more.
First, I got some Patience. Love was in the same row.
     Further down was Understanding: you need that everywhere you go.
I got a box or two of Wisdom, a bag or two of Faith.
     I stopped to get some Strength and Courage to help me run this race.
By then my basket was getting full, but I knew I needed Grace.
     I didn’t forget Salvation, for Salvation was free,
so I tried to get enough of that to save both you and me.
     Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill,
thinking I had everything to do the Master’s will.
     Going up the aisle, I saw Prayer: and put that in,
for I knew when I stepped outside, I would run into sin.
     Peace and Joy were plentiful; they were last on the shelf.
Song and Praise were hanging near, so I just helped myself.
     Then I said to the angel, “Now, how much do I owe?”
He smiled and said, “Just take them everywhere you go.”
     Again, I smiled and said, “How much do I really owe?”
He smiled again and said,
     “My child, Jesus paid your bill a long, long time ago.”

by Author Unknown

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You Will Never Be Sorry

1/16/2020

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You Will Never Be Sorry

For telling the truth.
For living a pure life.
For doing good to all.
For your faith in Christ.
For confessing your sins.
For doing your very best.
For speaking evil to none.
For thinking before acting.
For being kind to the poor.
For hearing before judging.
For forgiving your enemies.
For being candid and frank.
For helping a fallen brother.
For being honest in business.
For holding an angry tongue.
For thinking before speaking.
For being loyal to the church.
For standing by your principles.
For being kind to the distressed.
For stopping your ears to gossip.
For bridling a slandering tongue.
For asking pardon for all wrongs.
For not listening to a tale bearer.
For harboring only pure thoughts.
For being courteous and kind to all.
For sympathizing with the afflicted.
For money given to the Lord’s cause.
For disbelieving most of the ill reports.

by Author Unknown: as published in “The Reformatory Press” (6 February 1915), Volume 17, Issue 54, page 3

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While There Is Time, Lord

1/15/2020

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While There Is Time, Lord

While there is time, Lord
     May I use it well
’Tis gone in a moment
     One never can tell
Which day is our last one
     With so much to do
All must be in order
     When summoned by You.

While there is time, Lord
     And life is my own
Let me bring gladness
     To someone alone.
Renew a small hope
     Rekindle a dream
For shadows are never
     As dark as they seem

While there is time, Lord
     Let me not waste
The chances you give me
     I cannot replace
Lend me your wisdom
     That I may learn
To give of myself
     Nor ask a return.

Let me be gentle
     Keep my words kind
In spite of the worries
     Crossing my mind.
And when at long last
     Life’s sun starts to set
Let me have never
     A cause for regret.

by Grace E. Easley

Grace E. Easley was born on 24 January 1928 in McComb, Mississippi, United States of America, as a daughter of Earl Bickham Easley and Lottie Allred Easley. She worked at, and eventually retired from, the Southwest Mississippi Regional Medical Center in McComb, where she had been the front desk greeter for many years. She was a member of the Saint Alphonsus and Saint Teresa Catholic churches. Mrs. Easley was a widely published poet, having had many of her uplifting inspirational poems published in the Silesians series of books, as well as in church bulletins and other publications. Grace E. Easley passed on at 83 years of age on 18 April 2011 in McComb, Mississippi, United States of America.

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I Would Be True

1/14/2020

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I Would Be True

I would be true, for there are those who trust me;
     I would be pure, for there are those who care;
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer;
     I would be brave, for there is much to dare.

I would be friend of all - the foe, the friendless;
     I would be giving, and forget the gift;
I would be humble, for I know my weakness;
     I would look up, and laugh, and love, and lift.

I would be faithful through each passing moment;
     I would be constantly in touch with God;
I would be strong to follow where He leads me;
     I would have faith to keep the path Christ trod.

Who is so low that I am not his brother?
     Who is so high that I’ve no path to him?
Who is so poor I may not feel his hunger?
     Who is so rich I may not pity him?

Who is so hurt I may not know his heartache?
     Who sings for joy my heart may never share?
Who in God’s Heav’n has passed beyond my vision?
     Who to Hell’s depths where I may never fare?

May none, then, call on me for understanding,
     May none, then, turn to me for help in pain,
And drain alone his bitter cup of sorrow,
     Or find he knocks upon my heart in vain.

-Howard A. Walter: stanzas 1 through 3 (1906)
-Joseph Y. Peek: music arrangement (1911)
-Samuel R. Harlow: stanzas 4 through 6 (1918)

Howard Arnold Walter was born on 19 August 1883 in New Britain, Connecticut, United States of America. At 23 years of age, he spent a year in Japan, teaching English at Waseda University, and while there, he wrote the first three stanzas of the hymn, “I Would Be True.” He sent it to his mother in the United States of America, and she forwarded it to “Harper’s Magazine,” which published it. He later became a missionary with the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) in Sri Lanka and India. Howard Arnold Walter passed on at 35 years of age on 1 November 1918 in Lahore, India.

Joseph Yates Peek was born on 27 February 1843 in Schenectady, New York, United States of America. Mr. Peek worked as a carpenter, a farmer, and a drug store clerk before serving in the American Civil War. He then became a florist (1881 - 1904), following which he became a Methodist lay minister and traveled throughout America, including to Maine, Florida, and California. He played the violin, the piano, and the banjo. As a member of the Nostrand-DeKalb Methodist Episcopal Church in Brooklyn, he became a fully ordained minister, just two months before his passing. Joseph Yates Peek passed on at 68 years of age on 17 March 1911 in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America.

Samuel Ralph Harlow was born on 20 July 1885 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America. He was ordained as a Congregational minister in 1912, and became a chaplain and sociology teacher (1912 - 1922) at the International College in Smyrna, Turkey. When World War 1 began, he served as the director of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) for American forces in France. In 1923, he joined Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts, and served for more than 30 years as a professor of religion and social ethics. He traveled overseas as a lecturer for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, and was a visiting professor at Pierce College (1945 - 1946) in Athens, Greece. Samuel Ralph Harlow passed on at 87 years of age on 21 August 1972 in Northampton, Massachusetts, United States of America.

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What If?

1/13/2020

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What If?

What if God couldn’t take the time to bless us today because we couldn’t take the time to thank him yesterday?

What if God decided to stop leading us tomorrow because we didn’t follow Him today?

What if we never saw another flower bloom because we grumbled when God sent the rain?

What if God didn’t walk with us today because we failed to recognize it as His day?

What if God took away the Bible tomorrow because we would not read it today?

What if God took away His message because we failed to listen to the messenger?

What if God didn’t send His only begotten Son because He wanted us to be prepared to pay the price for sin?

What if God closed the door of the church because we did not open the door of our heart?

What if God stopped loving and caring for us because we failed to love and care for others?

What if God would not hear us today because we would not listen to Him yesterday?

What if God answered our prayers the way we answer His call to service?

What if God met our needs the way we give Him our lives?

by Author Unknown

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