A Litany for Children

In an old hymnal that I discovered among my Great Aunt Sis's treasures, I found a lovely gem calling me to love the children and bless them, and in so doing, to become like them.

Jesus, from thy throne on high,
Far above the bright blue sky,
Look on us with loving eye:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little children need not fear,
When they know that thou art near:
Thou dost love us, Saviour dear:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little hearts may love thee well,
Little lips thy love may tell,
Little hymns thy praises swell:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Little lives may be divine,
Little deeds of love may shine,
Little ones be wholly thine:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, once an infant small,
Cradled in the oxen's stall,
Though the God and Lord of all:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, thou dost love us still,
And it is thy holy will
That we should be safe from ill
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Be thou with us every day,
In our work and in our play,
When we learn and when we pray:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Make us brave without a fear,
Make us happy, full of cheer,
Sure that thou art always near:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

May we prize our Christian name,
May we guard it free from blame,
Fearing all that causes shame:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

May we grow from day to day,
Glad to learn each holy way,
Ever ready to obey,
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, Son of God most high,
Who didst in a manger lie,
Who upon the cross didst die:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, from thy heavenly throne,
Watching o'er each little one,
Til our life on earth is done:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.

Jesus, whom we hope to see
Calling us in heaven to be
Happy evermore with thee:
Hear us, Holy Jesus.  Amen.

~Thomas Pollock, 1871

Wake up, Mr. Harris!

Elyce Feliz, photo

"I'm glad you stopped by," the man said, attempting a welcoming smile. "I didn't want to get out of bed this morning."

Shuffling over to the stove, he put the kettle on for some tea. I moved aside old mail and papers to place a vase of fresh lilacs on his table. His skin was pale, dry and translucent. The raggedy sweatshirt emphasized his worn, stooped shoulders. 

We sat on a bench under his mulberry tree and he told me his troubles with sleeping, depression and boredom with life. The fresh air was a treat after the stale odors of the house.

I had suggested on my last visit that he go to church and out to a restaurant during the weekend. 

"I decided to have a quiet weekend," he explained.  "It was a bad decision. I got pretty down and disappointed in myself. It doesn't take a whole weekend to rest up from doing nothing. I'll go out next weekend and find something interesting to do."

"Next weekend?" I objected. "Do something today."

He chuckled reluctantly. "Like what?"

Our neighborhood was waking up around us. We were entertained by children playing at the bus stop. Birdsong filled the air in the tree above us and squirrels were scampering up and down the trees. The sun was beginning to shine and the gray clouds were rolling away.

"Wake up, Mr. Harris," I urged as he followed me back into the kitchen. "God gave you today for a reason. Don't you want to find out what it is?"

I opened his windows to let fresh spring breezes waft in while he put on his walking shoes and combed his hair.

Walking through the neighborhood, he started a grocery list. He had once enjoyed cooking and would make a favorite recipe. "Oh, and I will pick up some of that newfangled almond milk I saw advertised. Craziest thing I ever heard. Must come from nutty cows," he laughed.

His dusty bread machine came off the shelf in his garage. A list of books he might enjoy from the library was jotted down on a note pad. He debated between Oreos and Fig Newtons, then decided he would bake his own cookies."

As I was leaving, he saluted me with his bottle of water and zipped up the front steps to "shower, shave and do a bit of spiffing". 

I know 'tis but a Dream, yet feel more anguish

Than if 'twere Truth. It has often been so:

Must I die under it?  Is no one near?

Will no one hear these stifled groans and wake me?

           ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

Cultivate Friendships

Have a tea party with someone new.

Sow a word of praise today,
Plant a kindness-seed;
Listen to a troubled friend,
Help someone in need.

Compliment a weary soul
Too fatigued to try;
Shine forth rays of hope on all
Comfort those who cry.

Scatter deeds of love each day,
Plant each row with care;
Sprinkle joy along your way,
Soak each one in prayer.

Ask the Lord to bless each one,
And one day you'll reap
A harvestful of loving friends
To cherish and to keep.

Connie Hinnen

But this I say, he who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly;
And he who sows bountifully will reap bountifully. ~II Corinthians 9:6

The Last Mile

1. If I walk in the pathway of duty,
   If I work till the close of the day,
   I shall see the great King in His beauty,
   When I’ve gone the last mile of the way.
   • Refrain:
     When I’ve gone the last mile of the way,
     I will rest at the close of the day;
     And I know there are joys that await me,
     When I’ve gone the last mile of the way.
2. If for Christ I proclaim the glad story,
   If I seek for His sheep gone astray,
   I am sure He will show me His glory,
   When I’ve gone the last mile of the way.
3. Here the dearest of ties we must sever,
   Tears of sorrow are seen every day;
   But no sickness, no sighing forever,
   When I’ve gone the last mile of the way.
4. And if here I have earnestly striven,
   And have tried all His will to obey,
   ’Twill enhance all the rapture of heaven,
   When I’ve gone the last mile of the way.
5. 
   Johnson Oatman, Jr and William E. Marks (1908) Public domain.

Toward Jerusalem

Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow.
Thou art the Lord who soothed the furious sea.
What matter beating wind and tossing billow
If only we are in the boat with Thee?

Hold us in quiet through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the wind is shrill:
Can the boat sink while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?

~Amy Carmichael

Parting

trulygraphics.com

There's no use in weeping,

Though we are condemned to part.

There's such a thing as keeping

A remembrance in one's heart.

There's such a thing as dwelling

On the thought ourselves have nurs'd

And with scorn and courage telling

The world to do its  worst.

We'll not let its follies grieve us,

We'll just take them as they come;

And then every day will leave us

A merry laugh for home.

When we've left each friend and brother,

When we're parted wide and far,

We will think of one another,

As even better than we are.

Every glorious sight above us,

Every pleasant sight beneath,

We'll connect with those that love us,

Whom we truly love til death!

In the evening, when we're sitting

By the fire perchance alone,

Then shall heart with warm heart meeting,

Give responsive tone for tone.

We can burst the bonds which chain us,

Which cold human hands have wrought,

And where none shall dare restrain us

We can meet again, in thought.

So there's no use in weeping,

Bear a cheerful spirit still.

Never doubt that God is keeping

Future good for present ill!

~Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855)

Tired Young Mothers

God,
Bless all young mothers
at end of day,
kneeling wearily with each
small one
to hear them pray.
Too tired to rise when done...
and yet, they do,
longing just to sleep
one whole night through.
Too tired to sleep...
Too tired to pray...
God,
bless all young mothers
at close of day.


~Ruth Bell Graham

Little Black Lamb

Fleeing from You
nothing he sees
of Your going before him
as he flees.

Choosing his own paths
how could he know
Your hand directs where he shall go?

Thinking himself free
-free at last-
unaware Your right hand
holds him fast.

Waiting for darkness
to hide in sight,
not knowing, with you
dark is light.

Poor prodigal!
seeking a "where" from "whence"...
how does one escape
Omnipotence?

~Ruth Bell Graham

Afraid? Of What?

Afraid? Of What?
To feel the spirit's glad release?
To pass from pain to perfect peace,
The strife and strain of life to cease?
Afraid~Of that?

Afraid? Of What?
Afraid to see the Savior's face
To hear His welcome, and to trace
The glory gleam from wounds of grace?
Afraid~of that?

Afraid? Of What?
A flash, a crash, a pierced heart;
Darkness, light, O Heaven's art!
A wound of His a counterpart!
Afraid~of that?

Afraid? Of What?
To enter into Heaven's rest,
And yet to serve the Master blest,
From service good to service best?
Afraid~of that?

Afraid? Of What?
To do by death what life could not~
Baptize with blood a stony plot,
Till souls shall blossom from the spot?
Afraid~of that?

E.H. Hamilton

The One and Only

He is Jesus
The One and Only,
Trancendent over all else.
To know Him is to love Him.
To love Him is to long for Him.
To long for Him is to finally
Reach soul hands into the
One true thing we need
Never get enough of


Jesus.
Take all you want.
Take all you need.
Till soul is fed
And spirit is freed.
Till dust is dust
And Face you see

Jesus Christ,
He's all you need.

~Beth Moore

People to People

How do you share the love of Jesus with a lonely man?

How do you tell a hungry man about the Bread of Life?

How do you tell a thirsty man about the Living Water of the Lord?

How do you tell him of His Word?

How do you tell a dying man about eternal life?
How do you tell an orphan child about the Father's love?
How do you tell a man who's poor about the wondrous riches of the Lord?
How do you tell Him of His Word?

How do you tell a loveless world that God himself is love?
How do you help a man who's down to lift his eyes above?
How do you tell a bleeding man about the healing power of the Lord?
How do you tell him of His Word?

People who love go to people alone without Jesus.
People who see go to those who are blind without Jesus.

~William J. Reynolds

Cup of Joy

If any line that I ever penned,
Or any word I have spoken,
Has comforted heart, of foe or friend -

In any way, why my life, I'll say
Has reaped the reward of labor.
If aught I have said, or written, has made
Gladder the heart o' my neighbor.

If any deed that I ever did
Lightened a sad heart's sorrow,
If I have lifted a dropping lid
Up to the bright to-morrow,
Though the world knows not nor gives me a thought,
Nor ever can know, nor praise me.
Yet still I shall say, to my heart alway,
That my life, and labor repays me.

If in any way I have helped a soul,
Or given a spirit pleasure,
Then my cup of joy, I shall think is full
With an overflowing measure.

Though never an eye, but the one on high
Looks on my kindly action,
Yet, oh my heart, we shall think of our part
In the drama, with satisfaction.

From "Poems of Reflection" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox M.A. Donohue & Co, Copyright 1905

Though Critics Deride

In a pile of musty forgotten books left to me by my grandmother, I discovered this gem:

I'd rather have my verses win

A place in common peoples' hearts,

Who, toiling through the strife and din

Of life's great thoroughfares and marts,

May read some line my hand has penned;

Some simple verse, not fine or grand,

But what their hearts can understand

And hold me henceforth as a friend.

I'd rather win such quiet fame

Than by some fine thought, polished so

But those of learned minds would know,

Just what the meaning of my song...

To have the critics sound my name

In high-flown praises, loud and long.

I sing not for the critic's ear,
But for the masses. If they hear,
Despite the turmoil, noise and strife

Some least low note that gladdens life,

I shall be wholly satisfied,
Though critics to the end deride.

"Poems of Reflection" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Copyright 1905 M. A. Donohue & Co.

Voice of One Who Wept

Missions is taking the whole gospel to the whole world by the whole church. Many of us will never reach the mission field on our feet, but we can reach them on our knees.

Today I heard the voice of one
Who wept in far-off lands
Because of sin and misery,
and begged with outstretched hands
For one small lamp to light his dark.

Now fain I would have slept,
So stopped my ears, but in my heart
That sobbing voice still wept.

And then I heard the voice of One who counted not the cost,
But left His ivory palaces to seek and save the lost.
He said, "The sound of one who weeps is coming up to Me.
Dost thou forget that last command which I gave unto thee,

"To preach My Word to all the world?"
...O bitter be our shame!
Still hopeless millions walk the earth
who never heard His name,

And still the world spends lavishly in every crowded mart,
And still the voice of Him who wept is sobbing in my heart!

~Martha Snell Nicholson

http://www.mercydrops.com/Snell.htm

Faithful Hand

Oh, the comfort,the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,
Having neither to weigh thoughts,
Nor measure words,
But pouring them all right out,
Just as they are,
Chaff and grain together,certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
Keep what is worth keeping
And with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

~Dinah Maria (Mulock) Craik (1826-1887)

Christmas With Jesus

I see the countless Christmas trees
Around the world below,
With tiny lights like heaven's stars
Reflecting in the snow.

The sight is so spectacular
Please wipe away that tear
For I am spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
That people hold so dear
But earthly music can't compare
With the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you
The joy their voices bring
For it's beyond description
To hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me,
Trust God and have no fear
For I am spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I can't tell you of the splendor
Or the peace here in this place.
Can you imagine Christmas
With our Savior, face to face?

May God uplift your spirit
As I tell Him of your love
Then pray for one another
As you lift your eyes above.

So let your hearts be joyful
And let your spirits sing
For I'm spending Christmas in Heaven
And I'm walking with the king!

Author: Wanda Bencke. (1998)

A 1 Corinthians 13 Christmas

If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls, but do not show love to my family, I’m just another decorator.

If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family. I’m just another cook.

If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home, and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family, it profits me nothing.

If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir’s cantata, but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.

Love stops the cooking to hug the child.

Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.

Love is kind, though harried and tired.

Love doesn’t envy another’s home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.

Love doesn’t yell at the kids to get out of the way.

Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return, but rejoices in giving to those who can’t.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. Video games will break, pearl necklaces will be lost, golf clubs will rust… but giving the gift of love will endure.

~Author Unknown~

Thanks Giving Back

Oh God, when I have food,
Help me to remember the hungry.

When I have work,
Help me to remember the jobless.

When I have a warm home,
Help me to remember the homeless.

When I am without pain,
Help me to remember those who suffer.

...And remembering, help me to destroy my complacency and stir up my compassion. Make me concerned enough to help, by word and deed, those who cry out for what we take for granted.


~Samuel F. Pugh

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the tother, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.

Come, Little Leaves

"Come, little leaves,"
Said the wind one day.
"Come down to the meadow
...And we shall play.

Put on your dresses
Of red and gold,
For summer is past
And the days grow cold."

As soon as the leaves
Heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came fluttering,
One and all.

Over the meadow
They danced and flew,
All singing the soft
Little songs that they knew.

Dancing and leaping
The leaves went along,
Until winter called them
To end their sweet song.

Soon, fast asleep
In their earthy beds,
The snow lay a coverlet
Over their heads.

This is a song my Grandma sang with me when I was a little girl. It's a song for children written in the 1800's, though I do not know the author.