Love Those Wrinkles

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We Need Minor Keys Too

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“Giving thanks always for all things unto God.”  Ephesians 5:20

No matter what the source of the evil, if you are in God and surrounded by Him as by an atmosphere, all evil has to pass through Him before it comes to you. Therefore you can thank God for everything that comes, not for the sin of it, but for what God will bring out of it and through it. May God make our lives thanksgiving and perpetual praise, then He will make everything a blessing.

We once saw a man draw some black dots. We looked and could make nothing of them but an irregular assemblage of black dots. Then he drew a few lines, put in a few rests, then a clef at the beginning, and we saw these black dots were musical notes. On sounding them we were singing, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below.”

There are many black dots and black spots in our lives, and we cannot understand why they are there or why God permitted them to come. But if we let God come into our lives, and adjust the dots in the proper way, and draw the lines He wants, and separate this from that, and put in the rests at the proper places; out of the black dots and spots in our lives He will make a glorious harmony. Let us not hinder Him in this glorious work! –C. H. P.

“Would we know that the major chords were sweet, If there were no minor key? Would the painter’s work be fair to our eyes, Without shade on land or sea?

“Would we know the meaning of happiness, Would we feel that the day was bright, If we’d never known what it was to grieve, Nor gazed on the dark of night?”

 Many men owe the grandeur of their lives to their tremendous difficulties. –C. H. Spurgeon

When the musician presses the black keys on the great organ, the music is as sweet as when he touches the white ones, but to get the capacity of the instrument he must touch them all. –Selected

Mrs. Charles Cowman

 

Photo Courtesy of: Clipartpanda

 

GOD of The Empty Tomb

In moments of life’s emptiness,

Discouragement, and dismal gloom,

My spirit rises up to thank

The God of the Empty Tomb!

When darkness was at its deepest

As Jesus hung on Calvary tree,

He obeyed His Father’s Great Will

He willingly died for me.

The Power men had neglected

Revealed His Holy Presence clear

In darkness, the earth heaved and shook,

As scoffers ran off in fear.

Yet, the Light of this bleeding Christ

Beamed across Death’s dismal world

The Sacrificial Lamb lived again

As Eternal Life unfurled!

Jesus endured suff’ring and death

His Divine Mission completed.

How precious that through years of time,

His Redemption is repeated.

His Love out-lasts all other loves!

His Holy Light dispels Death’s gloom!

He is now and ever shall be Lord God of the Empty Tomb!

~Warrior for Christ

Thanksgiving Chorus

We walk on starry fields of white
And do not see the daisies,
For blessings common in our sight
We rarely offer praises.
We sigh for some supreme delight
To crown our lives with splendour,
And quite ignore our daily store
Of pleasures sweet and tender.

Our cares are bold and push their way
Upon our thought and feeling;
They hang about us all the day,
Our time from pleasure stealing.
So unobtrusive many a joy
We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives,
And conquers if we let it.

There’s not a day in all the year
But holds some hidden pleasure,
And, looking back, joys oft appear
To brim the past’s wide measure.
But blessings are like friends, I hold,
Who love and labour near us.
We ought to raise our notes of praise
While living hearts can hear us.

Full many a blessing wears the guise
Of worry or of trouble;
Far-seeing is the soul, and wise,
Who knows the mask is double.
But he who has the faith and strength
To thank his God for sorrow
Has found a joy without alloy
To gladden every morrow.

We ought to make the moments notes
Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;
The hours and days a silent phrase
Of music we are living.
And so the theme should swell and grow
As weeks and months pass o’er us,
And rise sublime at this good time,
A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

– Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We Two

We two make home of any place we go;
We two find joy in any kind of weather;
Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow,
If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow,
What matters it if we two are together?
We two, we two, we make our world, our weather.

We two make banquets of the plainest fare;
In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure;
We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care,
And win to smiles the set lips of despair.
For us life always moves with lilting measure;
We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure.

We two find youth renewed with every dawn;
Each day holds something of an unknown glory.
We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone;
Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on,
And thrums upon his harp new song or story.
We two, we two, we find the paths of glory.

We two make heaven here on this little earth;
We do not need to wait for realms eternal.
We know the use of tears, know sorrow’s worth,
And pain for us is always love’s rebirth.
Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal;
We two, we two, we live in love eternal.

– Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Song of Innocence

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:

“Pipe a song about a Lamb!”
So I piped with merry cheer.
“Piper, pipe that song again;”
So I piped: he wept to hear.

“Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!”
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

“Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.”
So he vanish’d from my sight;
And I pluck’d a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain’d the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

– William Blake

children

Fount of Bliss

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“Yea I have loved thee with an everlasting love.”

Love of God!–amazing love!
Height, above all other height,
Depth no creature thought can prove,
Boundless, endless, infinite!
Howsoe’er I sink or rise,
Stretch my powers beyond, abroad,
Pierce the depths or climb the skies,
Find I still the love of God–
Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free,
Evermore unsealed for me!

Love of Christ!–amazing love!
Vast as His eternity;
Theme of angel-tongues above,
Theme of souls redeemed like me!
Outward to creation’s bound,
Up to Heaven’s serenest height,
Universal space around,
Swells the chorus day and night–
Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free,
Evermore unsealed for me!

Oh, these tongues that falter so
When we sing of love like this!
Oh, these songs that, faint and low,
More than half their sweetness miss!
Saviour, lift our music higher
Till the notes to rapture spring!
Touch our lips with hallowed fire
From thine altar while we sing–
Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free,
Evermore unsealed for me!

– Mrs. J. C. Yule