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When I Read the Bible Through

1/27/2020

2 Comments

 
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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.
2 Comments

Prayer

1/26/2020

1 Comment

 
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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).
1 Comment

Everything That You Need

1/21/2020

0 Comments

 
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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

9 Comments

 
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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
9 Comments

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

5 Comments

 
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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.
5 Comments

I Would Be True

1/14/2020

1 Comment

 
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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.
1 Comment

What If?

1/13/2020

0 Comments

 
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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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Eternal Ink

1/12/2020

2 Comments

 
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Eternal Ink
 
I dreamed I was in Heaven
     Where an angel kept God’s book.
He was writing so intently
     I just had to take a look.
 
It was not, at first, his writing
     That made me stop and think
But the fluid in the bottle
     That was marked eternal ink.
 
This ink was most amazing,
     Dark black upon his blotter
But as it touched the parchment
     It became as clear as water.
 
The angel kept on writing,
     But as quickly as a wink
The words were disappearing
     With that strange eternal ink.
 
The angel took no notice,
     But kept writing on and on.
He turned each page and filled it
     Till all its space was gone.
 
I thought he wrote to no avail,
     His efforts were so vain
For he wrote a thousand pages
     That he’d never read again.
 
And as I watched and wondered that
     This awesome sight was mine,
I actually saw a word stay black
     As it dried upon the line.
 
The angel wrote and I thought I saw
     A look of satisfaction.
At last he had some print to show
     For all his earnest action.
 
A line or two dried dark and stayed
     As black as black can be,
But strangely the next paragraph
     Became invisible to see.
 
The book was getting fuller,
     The angel’s records true,
But most of it was blank, with
     Just a few words coming through. 
 
I knew there was some reason,
     But as hard as I could think,
I couldn’t grasp the significance
     Of that eternal ink.
 
The mystery burned within me,
     And I finally dared to ask
The angel to explain to me
     Of his amazing task.
 
And what I heard was frightful
     As the angel turned his head.
He looked directly at me,
     And this is what he said . . .
 
“I know you stand and wonder
     At what my writing’s worth
But God has told me to record
     The lives of those on Earth.
 
The book that I am filling
     Is an accurate account
Of every word and action
     And to what they do amount.
 
And since you have been watching
     I must tell you what is true;
The details of my journal
     Are the strict accounts of you.
 
The Lord asked me to watch you
     As each day you worked and played.
I saw you as you went to church,
     I saw you as you prayed.
 
But I was told to document
     Your life through all the week.
I wrote when you were proud and bold,
     I wrote when you were meek.
 
I recorded all your attitudes
     Whether they were good or bad.
I was sorry that I had to write
     The things that make God sad.
 
So now I’ll tell the wonder
     Of this eternal ink,
For the reason for its mystery
     Should make you stop and think. 
 
This ink that God created
     To help me keep my journal
Will only keep a record of
     Things that are eternal.
 
So much of life is wasted
     On things that matter not
So instead of my erasing,
     Smudging ink and ugly blot.
 
I just keep writing faithfully and
     Let the ink do all the rest
For it is able to decide
     What’s useless and what’s best.
 
And God ordained that as I write
     Of all you do and say
Your deeds that count for nothing
     Will just disappear away.
 
When books are opened someday,
     As sure as Heaven is true;
The Lord’s eternal ink will tell
     What mattered most to you.
 
If you just lived to please yourself
     The pages will be bare,
And God will issue no reward
     For you when you get there.
 
In fact, you’ll be embarrassed,
     You will hang your head in shame
Because you did not give yourself
     In love to Jesus’ Name.
 
Yet maybe there will be a few
     Recorded lines that stayed
That showed the times you truly cared,
     Sincerely loved and prayed.
 
But you will always wonder
     As you enter Heaven’s door
How much more glad you would have been
     If only you’d done more.
 
For I record as God sees,
     I don’t stop to even think
Because the truth is written
     With God’s eternal ink.”
 
When I heard the angel’s story
     I fell down and wept and cried
For as yet I still was dreaming
     I hadn’t really died. 
 
And I said, “O angel, tell the Lord
     That soon as I awake
I’ll live my life for Jesus -
     I’ll do all for His dear sake.
 
I’ll give in full surrender;
     I’ll do all He wants me to;
I’ll turn my back on self and sin
     And whatever isn’t true.
 
And though the way seems long and rough
     I promise to endure.
I’m determined to pursue the things
     That are holy, clean and pure.
 
With Jesus as my helper,
     I will win lost souls to Thee,
For I know that they will live with Christ
     For all eternity.”
 
And that’s what really matters
     When my life on Earth is gone
That I will stand before the Lord
     And hear Him say, “Well done.”
 
For is it really worth it
     As my life lies at the brink?
And I realize that God keeps books
     With His eternal ink.
 
Should all my life be focused
     On things that turn to dust?
From this point on I’ll serve the Lord;
     I can, I will, I must!
 
I will not send blank pages
     Up to God’s majestic throne
For where that record’s going now
     Is my eternal home.
 
I’m giving all to Jesus
     I now have seen the link
For I saw an angel write my life
     With God’s eternal ink.
 
by Craig F. Pitts

2 Comments

Be Strong

1/11/2020

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Be Strong
 
     Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle - face it; ’tis God’s gift.
 
     Be strong!
Say not, “The days are evil. Who’s to blame?”
And fold the hands and acquiesce - oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s name.
 
     Be strong!
It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong.
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not - fight on! To-morrow comes the song.
 
by Maltbie Davenport Babcock
 
Maltbie Davenport Babcock was born on 3 August 1858 in Syracuse, New York, United States of America. He became a Presbyterian preacher and a writer
. He is known as the creator of the hymn, “This is My Father’s World.” His sermons and newspaper articles were collected and published as, “Thoughts for Every-Day Living” (1902). Maltbie Davenport Babcock passed on at 42 years of age on 18 May 1901 in Naples, Italy.
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Others

1/9/2020

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Others
 
Lord, help me to live from day to day
     - In such a self-forgetful way,
That even when I kneel to pray
     My prayers shall be for “others . . .”
Help me in the work I do,
     Ever to be sincere and true,
And know that all I do for you,
     Must needs be done for “others . . .”
Let self be crucified and slain,
     And buried deep for all in vain,
It’s efforts be to raise again, unless to live for “others . . .”
     And when my work on earth is done,
And my new work in Heaven’s begun,
     May I forget the crown I’ve won.
While thinking still for “others.”
      “Others,” Lord, yes, “others,”
Let this my motto be.
     Help me to live for “others,”
For then I live for Thee.
 
by Author Unknown
0 Comments

Miracles Are Everywhere

1/8/2020

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​Miracles Are Everywhere
 
Miracles are not only
     ecstatic visions or holy interventions
     visited upon the chosen few.
Every moment we are alive
     is full of reasons to sing
     out in joyful gratitude.
Every breath we are given
     is a reminder that
     the glory of life is at hand.
In the people we love,
     in the beauty of nature,
     in the golden Sun
     that rises each morning -
     miracles are everywhere.
 
by Author Unknown
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Words of Peter Marshall

1/7/2020

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Words of Peter Marshall

​You are leaving port under sealed orders and in a troubled period. You cannot know whither you are going or what you are to do. But why not take the Pilot on board who knows the nature of your sealed orders from the outset and who will shape your entire voyage accordingly? He knows the shoals and the sand banks, the rocks and the reefs. He will steer you safely into that celestial harbor where your anchor will be cast for eternity. Let His almighty nail-pierced hands hold the wheel and you will be safe.
 
by Peter Marshall
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Living What We Pray For

1/6/2020

3 Comments

 
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​Living What We Pray For
 
I knelt to pray when day was done,
     And prayed, “O Lord, bless everyone,
Lift from each saddened heart the pain
     And let the sick be well again.”
 
And then I woke another day
     And carelessly went on my way,
The whole day long I did not try
     To wipe a tear from any eye.
 
I did not try to share the load
     Of any brother on the road.
I did not even go to see
     The sick man just next door to me.
 
Yet once again when day was done,
     I prayed, “O Lord, bless everyone.”
But as I prayed, into my ear
     There came a voice that whispered clear,
 
“Pause now, my son, before you pray.
     Whom have you tried to bless today?
Gods sweetest blessing always go
     By hands that serve him here below.”
 
And then I hid my face and cried,
      “Forgive me, God, I have not tried,
But let me live another day
     And I will live the way I pray.”
 
by Whitney Montgomery
 
Whitney Maxwell Montgomery was born on 14 September 1877 on a farm in the vicinity of Navarro County, Texas, United States of America. He was married to Vaida Stewart Boyd on 9 June 1927, and together the couple wrote poetry, and edited and published numerous books in their print shop. Whitney Maxwell Montgomery passed on at 89 years of age on 7 December 1966.
3 Comments

Words of Cyprian

1/5/2020

0 Comments

 
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​Words of Cyprian
 
This seems a cheerful world, Donatus, when I view it from this fair garden, under the shadow of these vines. But if I climbed some great mountain and looked out over the wide lands, you know very well what I would see - brigands on the high roads, pirates on the seas; in the amphitheaters men murdered to please applauding crowds; under all roofs misery and selfishness. It is really a bad world, Donatus, an incredibly bad world. Yet in the midst of it I have found a quiet and holy people. They have discovered a joy which is a thousand times better than any pleasures of this sinful life. They are despised and persecuted, but they care not. They have overcome the world. These people, Donatus, are the Christians - and I am one of them.
 
by Cyprian: letter to Donatus
 
Cyprian, also known as Thaschus Caecilius Cyprianus, was born in about C.E. 200 possibly near Carthage, North Africa (now Tunisia). He was a Christian bishop of Carthage and a Christian writer. Cyprian passed on at about 42 years of age on C.E. 14 September 258 in Carthage, North Africa.
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Words of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

1/4/2020

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Words of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
 
I have known what the enjoyments and advantages of this life are, and what are the more refined pleasures which learning and intellectual power can bestow; and with all the experience that more than three-score years can give, I now, on the eve of my departure, declare to you, that health is a great blessing; competence obtained by honorable industry is a great blessing; and a great blessing it is, to have kind, faithful, and loving friends and relatives; but that the greatest of all blessings, as it is the most ennobling of all privileges, is to be indeed a Christian.
 
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born on 21 October 1772 in Ottery St. Mary, Devon, England. He became a literary critic, a poet, and a theologian. He is known for the poems “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (1798) and “Kubla Khan” (1816) as well as the prose work “Biographia Literaria” (1817). Mr. Coleridge was a member of the Lake Poets. Samuel Taylor Coleridge passed on at 61 years of age on 25 July 1834 in Highgate, Middlesex, England.
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No Excuse Sunday

1/3/2020

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​​No Excuse Sunday
 
In order to make it possible for everyone to attend church next week, we are planning a special no-excuse Sunday.
 
1. Cots will be placed in the Chapel for those who say, “Sunday is my only day for sleeping in.”
 
2. Eye drops will be available for those whose eyes are tired from watching television too late on Saturday night.
 
3. We will have steel helmets for those who believe the roof will cave in if they show up at church.
 
4. Blankets will be furnished for those who complain that the church is too cold. Fans will be on hand for those who say the church is too hot.
 
5. We will have hearing aids for those members who say, “the speakers don’t talk loud enough.” There will be cotton for those who say, “the speakers talk too loud.”
 
6. Score cards will be available for those who wish to count the hypocrites.
 
7. We guarantee that some relatives will be present for those who like to go visiting on Sunday.
 
8. There will be TV dinners available for those who claim they can’t go to church and cook dinner, too.
 
9. One section of the church will have some trees and grass for those who see God in nature, especially on the golf course.
 
10. The chapel will be decorated with both Christmas poinsettias and Easter lilies to create a familiar environment for those who have never seen the church without them.
 
by Author Unknown
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The Fool’s Prayer

1/2/2020

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The Fool’s Prayer
 
The royal feast was done; the King
     Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: “Sir Fool,
     Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!”
 
The jester doffed his cap and bells,
     And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
     Behind the painted grin he wore.
 
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
     Upon the Monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: “O Lord,
     Be merciful to me, a fool!
 
“No pity, Lord, could change the heart
     From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
     Be merciful to me, a fool!
 
“’Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
     Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
’Tis by our follies that so long
     We hold the Earth from Heaven away.
 
“These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
     Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
     Among the heart-strings of a friend.
 
“The ill-timed truth we might have kept -
     Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say -
     Who knows how grandly it had rung!
 
“Our faults no tenderness should ask.
     The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders - oh, in shame
     Before the eyes of Heaven we fall.
 
“Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
     Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
     Be merciful to me, a fool!”
 
The room was hushed; in silence rose
     The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
      “Be merciful to me, a fool!”
 
by Edward R. Sill (1841 - 1887): as published in Jessie B. Rittenhouse, editor: “The Little Book of American Poets: 1787 - 1900” (1915)
 
Edward Rowland Sill was born on 29 April 1841 in Windsor, Connecticut, United States of America. He graduated from Yale in 1861, studied biology at Harvard, did literary work in New York City, taught school in California and Ohio, and was for eight years professor of English language and literature at the University of California. His poems were privately printed under the title, “The Hermitage and Other Poems” (1868) and in other works. Edward Rowland Sill passed on at 45 years of age on 27 February 1887 in Cleveland, Ohio, United States of America.
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Old Things Are Gone

1/1/2020

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Old Things are Gone

Don’t dwell in the past,
     Spring forth in the new . . .
Old things are gone;
     Blessings come through.

All things are possible
     As God leads the way.
Forget and forgive,
     This is a new day!

Greet one another;
     In God’s holy name.
Old things are gone;
     New life you’ll claim.

Serve as we’re needed . . .
     Any place - anywhere . . .
Love all God’s children;
     You will stay in His care.
 
by Edna Massimilla
 
Edna Massimilla was born on 10 March 1916 in Queens, New York, United States of America. She married John Massimilla, a real estate agent who later became a Christian reverend. She became a newspaper reporter, a song writer, a book writer, and a poet. She is known as the author of the poem “Heaven’s Very Special Child” (1956) and the book “Heaven’s Very Special Child & the Family” (August 2008), both inspired by her daughter who was born with Down’s Syndrome.
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Funny, Isn't It?

12/31/2019

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Funny, Isn’t It?
 
Funny how $20 looks so big when we take it to church
     and so small when we take it to the store.
Funny how big an hour serving God looks and how small 60 minutes
     are when spent playing golf, fishing, or playing bridge.
Funny how laborious it is to read a chapter in the Bible and
     how easy it is to read 200 to 300 pages of a best-selling novel.
Funny how we believe what newspapers say
     but question what the Bible says.
Funny how we can’t think of anything to say when we pray and don’t
     have any difficulty thinking of things to talk about to a friend.
Funny how we need 2 or 3 weeks to fit a church event into our schedule,
     but can adjust it for a social event at the last minute.
Funny, isn’t it?
 
by Author Unknown
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Who Made the Stars?

12/30/2019

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Who Made the Stars?
 
“Mother, who made the stars, which light
     The beautiful blue sky?
Who made the Moon, so clear and bright,
     That rises up so high?”
 
“’Twas God, my child, the Glorious One,
     He formed them by his power;
He made alike the brilliant Sun,
     And every leaf and flower.
 
“He made your little feet to walk;
     Your sparkling eyes to see;
Your busy, prattling tongue to talk,
     And limbs so light and free.
 
“He paints each fragrant flower that blows,
     With loveliness and bloom;
He gives the violet and the rose
     Their beauty and perfume.
 
“Our various wants his hands supply;
     He guides us every hour;
We’re kept beneath his watchful eye,
     And guarded by his power.
 
“Then let your little heart, my love,
     Its grateful homage pay
To that kind Friend, who, from above,
     Thus guides you every day.
 
“In all the changing scenes of time,
     On Him our hopes depend;
In every age, in every clime,
     Our Father and our Friend.”
 
by Author Unknown
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The Broken Pinion

12/29/2019

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​The Broken Pinion
 
I walked through the woodland meadows,
     Where sweet the thrushes sing;
And I found on a bed of mosses
     A bird with a broken wing.
I healed its wound, and each morning
     It sang its old sweet strain,
But the bird with a broken pinion
     Never soared as high again.
 
I found a young life broken
     By sin’s seductive art;
And touched with a Christ-like pity,
     I took him to my heart.
He lived with a noble purpose
     And struggled not in vain;
But the life that sin had stricken
     Never soared as high again.
 
But the bird with a broken pinion
     Kept another from the snare;
And the life that sin had stricken
     Raised another from despair.
Each loss has its compensation,
     There is healing for every pain;
But the bird with a broken pinion
     Never soars as high again.
 
by Hezekiah Butterworth
 
Hezekiah Butterworth was born on 22 December 1839 in Warren, Rhode Island, United States of America. He became a world traveler, a writer, a lecturer, and a poet. Hezekiah Butterworth passed on at 65 years of age on 5 September 1905 in Warren, Rhode Island, United States of America.
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Benediction at Gloucester Cathedral

7/6/2019

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Benediction at Gloucester Cathedral

Go on your way in peace.
Be of good courage.
Hold fast to that which is good.
Render no man evil for evil.
Strengthen the fainthearted.
Support the weak.
Help and cheer the sick.
Honor all men.
Love and serve the Lord.
May the blessings of God be upon you
And remain with you forever.

by Author Unknown
 
The Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and the Holy and Indivisible Trinity, also known as Gloucester Cathedral, is in Gloucester, England. It is a Christian church, the denomination being Church of England. A benediction is a form of blessing, often given at the closing of a church service.
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