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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
