Sunday, April 12, 2020

Christ Rose By His Own Power

       He rose in the night; no hand at the door, no voice in his ear, no rough touch awaking him. Other watchers than Pilate's soldiers stood by the sepulchre; but those angels whom it well became to keep guard at this dead man's chamber door, beyond opening it, beyond rolling away the stone, beyond looking on with wondering eyes, took no part in the scenes of that eventful morning. The hour sounds; the appointed time arrives. Having slept out his sleep, Jesus stirs; he awakes of his own accord he rises by his own power; and arranging, or leaving attending angels to arrange, the linen clothes, he walks out on the dewy ground, beneath the starry sky, to turn grief into the greatest joy, and hail the breaking of the brightest morn that ever rose on this guilty world. That open empty tomb assures us of a day when ours too shall be as empty. Having raised himself, he has power to raise his people, panic-stricken soldiers flying the scene, and Mary rising from his blessed feet to hasten to the city, to rush through the streets, to burst in among the disciples, and with a voice of joy to cry, He is risen, He is risen! prove this is no vain brag or boast, "I lay down my life that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have the power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again." Rev. Dr. Guthrie.

Chris Tomlin "Jesus"

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Easter Games by Lina Beard, 1905

       In the game they play at Washington, on the hills sloping from the White House, the child whose egg reaches the foot of the hill in an unbroken condition takes the one worsted in the journey down. Another game for two is played by knocking the eggs together ; each child holds an egg firmly in his hand so that only the small end is visible, and then the two eggs are struck against each other until one is cracked, when the victorious player adds it to his stock, or devours it on the spot. I would not like to state the number of eggs eaten on these occasions, but there is a boy (not a girl) who once consumed fourteen and lived to tell the tale.
       Sometimes the egg which breaks another is called "the cock of one," and when it has broken two it is " cock of two," and so on. When an egg which is cock of one or more is broken, the number of trophies won by the victim is added to the score of the conquering egg and it becomes " cock of three " or more. Here is a game which comes from Germany, and al- though in that country it is played exclusively by boys, there is no reason why the girls should not participate in it as well. Two baskets are necessary for this game, one large and shallow filled with soft shavings, the other shallow also, but smaller, and filled with eggs. The plan of the game is that one player is to run a given distance, while another safely throws the eggs from one basket to the other, she who completes her task first being the winner. When the baskets are prepared, and the distance the eggs are to be thrown decided upon, the two contestants draw lots to determine who shall run and who shall throw. This settled, the player who throws takes the basket of eggs, and one after another quickly tosses them the length of the course and into the basket of shavings, which is placed on the ground at the end of the course opposite the thrower. In Germany this basket is held by an assistant, but anyone occupying that position might receive some severe blows from the hard eggs thrown by unpracticed hands, and it answers the purpose just as well to place the basket on the ground. Meantime the other player runs the distance (decided beforehand) to an appointed goal, marks it as a proof of having touched it, and should she succeed in returning before all the eggs are thrown, the victory and prize are her reward; otherwise they belong to the thrower.
       The game finished, a prize is presented to the successful contestant. Should any of the eggs pitched by the thrower fail to light in the basket, they must be gathered up and thrown again before the runner returns, as the eggs must all be in the basket before the thrower wins the game.
       "Bunching eggs " comes from Ireland, and is played in very much the same manner as the game played with a slate and pencil, and known to all children as " tit, tat, toe, three in a row." A pan or large dish filled with sand or sawdust is set upon a table, around which the children stand, each supplied with eggs; the eggs of each player must be all of one color, and unlike those of any other player. The object of the game is for each player to so place her eggs, standing them upright in the sand, or sawdust, as to bring five in a row touching each other.
       In turn each player puts down an egg, sometimes filling out a row for herself, at others cutting off the line of an opponent; and the one who first succeeds in obtaining the desired row sings out--

"The raven, chough, and crow,
Say five in a row."

       Another pretty game from Ireland called " Touch " is played in the following manner:
       Six eggs of the different colors green, red, black, blue, white, and gold are placed in a row in the sand used for the other game. One of the players is blindfolded and given alight wand or stick, with which she must touch one of the eggs, while at the same time she recites these lines:

Peggy, Patrick, Mike, and Meg,
See me touch my Easter egg ;
Green, and red, and black, and blue,
Count for six, five, four, and two.
If I touch an egg of white,
A forfeit then will be your right ;
If I touch an egg of gold,
It is mine to have and hold.

       As is told in the rhyme, the eggs each have a different value. Green counts six ; red, five ; black, four; and blue, two ; and the gold egg is worth more than all put together, for when a player touches that, she wins the game and a forfeit of. an egg from each of the other players. The white egg is worth less than nothing, since it not only has no value but whoever touches it with the wand must pay a forfeit.
       Each player is in turn blindfolded and makes her trial, keeping account of the value of the eggs she has touched. When the sum of twenty has been reached by anyone the game is ended, without the aid of the gold egg. The position of the eggs are changed after each trial, that the person about to touch them may not know where it is best to place her wand.

Sunday, March 31, 2019

The Mountain Top

The Mountain Top
by Lilian Leveridge

The summer sun lay golden on the 
And soft about us blew
The elfin winds, the wild, free winds, that 
I wandered there with you.

As us and up to higher levels tending
We slowly passed along,
Upon the slippery steeps I did not waver--
Your hand was firm and strong.

We gained the heights. The all-encircling
Our quickening pulses thrilled.
With all the glory, all the wordless wonder,
Our kindred souls were filled.

Above us and around us stretched the heav-
And far and far away,
In misty, opalescent shadows melting,
The dim horizon lay.

Up from the town, to mellow music softened,
There rose a murmurous din,
As o'er the waves, wind-kissed and sunbeam-
We watched the boats come in.

But longer than the fair and pleasant pic-
In sunlight round us spread,
Within my heart will live the vibrant music
Of gracious words you said:

"We may not reach the goal of our en-
Before the sun goes down;
Yet you and I will upward press, and ever
Be worthy of our crown.

"No toil is lost no energy is wasted,
Our striving is not vain,
E'en though we win no shining wreath of lau-
No proud, far heights attain.

"Thy are not dead, the seeds of hope we
Along the barren years,
Though yet there springs no blossom of re-
No golden fruit appears.

"Not in the prize, though lovely and allur-
Our best reward must be.
Is not the strength that comes alone from
Enough for you and me?

"Enough to have uplifted by our message
One life for one brief hour;
Out of one heart a weed to have uprooted,
And planted there a flower;

"Enough if we a helping hand have given,
Have strengthened faltering feet,
Have shed about us ever the aroma
Of kindness rare and sweet."

Enough! and yet the distant beacons beckon,
The shining steeps allure.
We long to breath--the impulse is of
Those airs serene and pure;

To stand beside the noble souls who con-
Who would not be downcast,
Who, after all the heartache and the failures,
Have won success at last.

Some day--who knows?--after the toil and 
The conflict long and tense,
There yet may come to us life's crowning
Of richest recompense.

Tuesday, March 26, 2019


He was the Priest of the Most High God. - Genesis 14:18

Out of the mist of ages comes, unknown,
His crown'd and mitred mien,
Who evermore, a Priest upon His throne,
Shall live and reign serene:
The King of righteousness His sceptre shews,
While palms and olives near the Prince of Peace

And Father Abraham bends and bows before
One greater far than He;
Forth come the Bread and Wine, prefiguring
Than feeble sense may see:
The offer'd tithes His sacrifice proclaim,
And His High-priesthood own of everlasting

Thus Abraham saw Christ's day. The man of
Is Salem's mystic king;
The King of Righteousness whose names disclose
Of Peace the Prince and spring:
The wine-press, for our thirst, who comes to
And for our hungering souls to break the Living

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

The Ascension of Christ

       He last interview he had with them was in Jerusalem; and he took the little band of believers out of the city, down through the Eastern Gate, down through the valley of Jehosaphat, over the brook Kedron, past that garden where he sweated drops of blood, past Calvary, over the brow of the hill, and went out past Bethany, where Martha and Mary and Lazarus (the resurrected man) lived; and perhaps right there, under a cluster of little olive trees, he met his disciples for the last time to bid them farewell, and gave them his parting message. Now He says: "I go home; I go back to the throne; (He had been out of the grave forty days); now I ascend to God." And while he was blessing them - for you know he came blessing, the first thing he said on that memorable mountain when he preached that wonderful sermon (there were nine blessings right out of his heart, he could not go on until he got them out): "Blessed are the poor;" "Blessed are the peacemakers;" Blessed, blessed; and he recited those wondrous things and blessed them. And while he was blessing them he began to ascend; and he rose higher and higher; and his voice grew fainter and fainter, and at last it died away in the clouds; and the clouds received him out of their sight.
"We love because He first loved us."
1 John 4:19. Free clip art here.
       I can imagine up in the clouds there was a chariot from the throne, to take him back home; his work was finished; he rides like Elijah in that golden chariot, and sweeps away through the heavens to the throne. Look at Him on his way to that world where all honor him, and all love him! And as he went sweeping upon his way home, he did not forget his little church; he could see them, but they could not see him; and I can see Peter and John looking up, in hopes that there will be a break in the clouds so that they may see him once more. And while they stand there, gazing up into heaven, you can see tears trickling down their cheeks, their hearts have almost gone out of their body; and he looks back and sees them; and he says to two of the angels who were conveying him home, "Go back, and tell those men that I will come back again." I don't know but they were the two, Mary saw in the sepulchre; and they said:
       "Ye men of Gallilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." Thank God he is coming back! It is only a question of time. And in such a day and hour as we think not, he will rend the heavens and come back. Lift up your hearts, for the time of your redemption draweth near. "We don't worship a dead Savior! He has passed through the heavens, gone up on high, led captivity captive and taken his seat at the right hand of God.
       Paul saw him, and Stephen saw him, standing at the right hand of God. He is there, my friends. Thanks be to God, he is not here. They laid him in Joseph's sepulchre; he is risen and up yonder. D. L. Moody

Saturday, January 5, 2019

The Resurrection Illustrated

       So it is that out of these elementary particles human bodies are built, and out of nature's storehouse God will in some way reinvest the spirit with a material organism. We can well believe that this is possible in the light of what chemistry can do. There are many things which the chemist can do which we would not believe to be possible did we not know them to be facts. I think it is Dr. Brown who quotes from Mr. Hallet the story of a gentleman who was something of a chemist, who had given a faithful servant a silver cup. The servant dropped the cup in a vessel of what he supposed to be pure water, but which in reality was aqua fortis. He let it lie there, not thinking it could receive any harm, but, returning some time after, saw the cup gradually dissolving. He was loudly bewailing his loss when he was told that his master could restore the cup for him. He could not believe it. "Do you not see," he said' "that it is dissolving before our sight?" But at last the master was brought to the spot. He called for some salt water, which he poured into the vessel, and told the servant to watch. By and by the silver cup began to gather as a white powder at the bottom. When the deposit was complete the master said to the servant, "Pour off the liquid, gather up this dust, have it melted and run together, then take it to the workman and let him hammer the cup again." You may take gold; you may file it down to a powder, mix it with other metals, throw it into the fire, do what you will with it, and the chemist will bring back with certainty the exact gold.
       Thus our bodies are built up by fruits from the tropics, by grain from the prairies. The flesh that roamed the plains as cattle has become part of us. If God can build up human bodies here, can He not find and convert the dust that we put away in the grave, and bring it back to forms of life? In my judgment, God is able to preserve even the particles of the human body and restore them. So far as the power is concerned, it can be done, and will be done, as God may think best. H. W. Thomas, D. D.

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

The Eternal Life Indescribable

       I have often thought if I could only tell or picture eternal life I would have but one sermon and I would tell it out. I would go to civilized nations and I would go to heathen nations and I would tell it out But I can't do it. I have tried many a time to describe what it is, but I don't know somehow or another it seems as if my tongue was tied; it seems to me if I could only picture what the gift of God, what eternal life is, that the people would come to God this morning - that men, women and children would flock into the kingdom by hundreds, if I could only picture what it is. There is nothing we value in this world as we do life. A man will go around the world to lengthen out his life a few years. If he has got wealth he will give money by thousands if he can get medical aid. But this is a world that is filled with sorrow and separation. As I look over this audience I see the emblems of mourning all through the congregation. Not a circle that has not been broken - and many a dear circle has been broken since I stood on this platform last. Death is constantly coming in and taking away this one and that one, and in many you see here and there the natural force is becoming abated and they are tending towards the grave. In a little while they know they must go down to the grave. And so we think life is very sweet here; but just think of the life in the world where there is no stooping form, no gray hair, where the natural force never becomes abated, where the eye never grows dim, where the step is firm and moves on and on through the palaces of the King, where perpetual youth stands on your brow forever, a city where death never enters and sin never comes, a city where all is bright and joyful, a city without a night in it a city without pain, without sorrow, and without death. Think of it! Not only that, but a city where we shall be with the King himself, and be in His presence. Yea, better still, where these vile bodies shall be found like His own glorious body and shall reign with Him forever! That is eternal life. Why, what are your bonds and stocks when you get to looking at eternal life ? Why do you want to go on the Board of Trade and make a few thousands or a few millions? "What is that? Think of life forever; a life that is as pure as God's life, that floats on and on unceasingly through joys that last forever. The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life. You may have it this morning. Come, friends, will you seek him? If you will take my advice you will not go out of this house this morning without seeking eternal life - without making up your mind that you will seek it. - D. L. Moody

Lincoln Brewster sings "God Of The Impossible"

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Easter by A. Irvine Innes

Easter by A. Irvine Innes

That Jesus lived, that Jesus died,
The ancient stories tell;
With words of wisdom, love, and truth,
That he could speak so well;
And all so great his work for man,
I hail him, brave and free.
The highest of heroic souls
Who lived and died for me.

That Jesus rose, that Jesus reigns.
The hearts that love him know;
They feel Him guide and strengthen them.
As on through life they go.
Rejoicing in His leadership,
The heavenward way I see,
And shall not stray if I can say.
He rose and reigns in me.


Easter by Richard Watson Gilder

The Lord is risen indeed,
He is here for your love, for your need
Not in the grave, nor the sky,
But here where men live and die;
And true the word that was said:
''Why seek ye the living among the dead?"

Wherever are tears and sighs,
Wherever are children's eyes.
Where man calls man his brother.
And loves as himself another,
Christ lives ! The angels said :
"Why seek ye the living among the dead?"

The Basket of The Day

Priscilla Leonard is the author of
these lines found in the Pittsburg Christian Advocate:

The Basket of The Day
Into the basket of thy day
Put each thing good and each thing gay
That thou canst find along thy way.

Neglect no joy, however small,
And it shall verily befall
Thy day can scarcely hold them all.

Within the basket of thy day
Let nothing evil find its way.
And let no frets and worries stay.

So shall each day be brave and fair.
Holding of joy its happy share.
And finding blessings everywhere.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

The Paschal New-Moon


WELCOME thou little bow of light,
Faint gleaming in the Western height
O'er Day's decline!
Thou, to the busy world of men,
Art but the month begun again;
But to this eye of mine
Lighted by Faith's diviner ken,
A season and a sign.

Welcome, reflected in the rill,
Thine image on the waters, chill
From melting snows:
But brighter, in the depths serene,
Of my glad soul, thy sacred sheen
The Church's index shows;
Regent of holy-tides, and Queen
Of Easter's dawn and close.

Thou hast been waited for: the lore
Of holy sages, long before
Hath marked thy day:
For with thy heavenly march sublime,
The Paschal-eve and Paschal-prime
One Lord, one law, obey;
The Church hath calendar'd thy time,
And traced thy starry way.

And key-note of her Easter-song,
Is thy sweet tune, thy path along
In yon blue deep:
We watch thy crescent, till its rim
Is filled with glory to the brim,
And still our fast we keep;
Then, tide-like, swells our Easter-hymn,
Round the whole earth to sweep.

Thou bringest cheer; thou endest days
Of fast with feast, of plaint with praise,
Of rue with balm.
Beauty for ashes thou dost bring;
The oil of joy for sorrowing;
For grief thou bringest calm;
Thou changes! tears to triumphing,
And Litany to Psalm.

The bow of Joseph, thou! Thy light
Reminds me of the Hebrew's right
And Egypt's wrong;
Reminds me of Mosaic priests,
Their hyssop-branch, their bleeding beasts,
The prophet's goodly throng;
Their bitter herbs, unleavened feasts,
And hallelujah-song:

Reminds me of that night of gloom;
The Twelve, the One, the upper-room;
The Bread and Wine:
Of Olivet remindeth me,
Of Kedron and Gethsemane;
Of Thee, Redeemer mine!
Thy cross, Thy cries, Thy victory,
Stupendous love divine.

O Paschal moon, to wax and wane,
Though short thy date, how wide thy reign
Afar and near.
Thou art the Church's harvest-moon:
She sows in tears, but reapeth, soon,
A sheaf for every tear.
Shine on! We catch thy heavenly tune,
And shout the harvest-cheer.


To Mary And Elizabeth, In Paradise

THE rainbow oft, on tears of April-tide,
In the sweet week of Easter, we behold;
Its bow of beauty, like the Crucified
Bending from heaven, all nature to enfold
In Love's embrace. Then from that throne of
'Mid iris-lustres, in the highest sphere,
Seems to bend down its arch of emerolde;
And Paradise, it seemeth very near,
As if the dwellers there perchance our sighs
might hear.

Sweet sisters, in repose ye wear new names,
Yet let me dream ye hearken. Once, in time,
Ye were my muses, and ev'n more than fame's
I courted your applause, in youth's glad prime,
When oft ye listened to my boyish rhyme
With eyes that shone, as now they shine in
Ah, borne too early to abodes sublime,
Fain would I know ye take it not amiss
Though angels' songs ye hear to list a lay like

Ye cannot hear my later songs, alas !
Ye dearest ones that deign'd to praise my first :
So grieved the Weimar poet, in the glass
Of memory gazing on fair forms that nurst
His young adventure, ere its blossoms burst
In fancy's flowers and fragrance. Such my
When for these songs, my last perchance my
I coveted your ear. Yet are they fraught
With His dear Name of Names, who our redemp-
tion bought.

We grew together, lov'd by one whose pride
Watched o'er the budding of your loveliness ;
Nor knew we, for too soon, alas ! ye died,
All that he wrought our tender years to
Mingling wise counsel with his fond caress.
Wisdom and wit were his, and nature gave
His manly heart a maiden's tenderness;
And Christian hope adorns his lowly grave,
Where, on the field he fell, Christ's soldier, true
and brave.

Nor less, while your sweet life was link'd with
I shared her love, who o'er your cradle bent
And trained your earliest thought to thoughts
For oft to me her kindly care was lent
In words of cheer, with gentle warning blent,
When to the poet's shell I tuned my youth.
She loved all arts the soul that ornament,
And wing'd her nestlings, like young birds for-
To soar aloft betimes and bask in light and truth.

We parted, where the snow-peaks all aglow
Shone like an opal, and the setting sun
Flamed o'er the Pyrenees, in pleasant Pau,
Along the vale where restless Gave doth run :
And as we gazed, each an enraptured one,
Tvvas well we heard no voices, save our own ;
For seem'd our life beginning when 'twas
And with that sunset, oh ! forever flown
Are joys so long we knew, and hopes no longer

Yet may I glean a moral from that day
Of parting, and its light o'er mount and glen,
For in the Sun's own clime, the poets say
He reigns at sunset, wears no crown till then.
So goes the adage, too, of meaner men ;
The end crowns labor. Welcome life's soft
Who sings the Resurrection cries Amen,
As lengthening shadows mark the hour to leave
This life's deceitful scene, for scenes that ne'er

Ev'n as a bird forgets its wonted note
When death o'ershades its bower, and comes
no more
The smile that seemed upon its song to dote,
So when ye slept, my listless hand gave o'er
And lost its cunning; for I grieved heart-sore,
Tuneless my shell and unfulfilled my dream.
Now, faith reproacheth that I thus forbore;
Wake, languid shell nor moan, by Babel's stream;
Wake, from the willows wake, to Faith's trans-
porting theme.

Yes, wake my soul, in swan-like notes to sing
Of that blest home, where, nevermore to die,
To them that slept comes Life's eternal spring,
Where Love enthron'd all human tears shall
Hearts claim their kin and brightens eye to eye.
Sweet sisters, ye are safe. For me, how rife
Perils of conflict, ev'n as years draw nigh
That bring the grateful furlough after strife,
And shines our even-star, the dawn of deathless

Easter Day by May Riley Smith

Easter Day
by May Riley Smith

O sad, sad soul, fling wide your doors,
And make your windows curtainless!
Strew odors on your silent floors,
And all your walls with lilies dress!

Throw open every sombre place;
Roll every hindering stone away!
Let Easter sunshine gild your face,
And bless you with its warmth to-day!

Let friends renew each by-gone hour,
Let children fling the world a kiss:
And every hand tie in some flower,
To crown a day so good as this!

And whether skies are sad or clear,
We'll give the day to joy and song:
For since the Christ is surely here,
All things are right, and naught is wrong!

Wednesday, April 11, 2018


by F. P. Carrigan

Look up to where the hills
are flushed
With dawn's red pencilings
Look up to where an angel goes
On silver-flashing wings;
Look up to where the lark of morn
Is soaring whilst he sings.

Look up! the clouds of yesterday
Have vanished with the night;
Like some sweet dream that
follows toil
The present greets the sight;
Look up! the dawn of dawns has come
In majesty and might.

Our Egg Tree in 2016

In 2016, the branches of an old fire bush were all that I had to work with.
I used some heavy stones to support these branches and also added a few bird's nests.
Here is the finished display, but it was never entirely finished. Apparently old fire bush limbs are not
 particularly strong! So the egg tree kept wilting over and eggs dropped daily.
Here is a good shot of the tree prior to any catastrophes!
This bunny was doomed and he didn't even know it. But such is the way with bunnies.

The White Easter

I remember this particular Easter as "White Easter" because it was the year that all of the flowers used to decorate the house were white. There were white lilies, white hydrangea, and even white iris had blossomed very early in the garden.
My husband and children had purchased the flowers earlier than usual, so, by the time
Easter rolled around, some of the petals were not as crisp.
Above is the Holy Week Devotional from that year.
I displayed a few of my older porcelain pieces that are white.
These white lilies bloomed early that Easter.
Here are the gorgeous hydrangea that I received a week prior to Easter that year.
close-up of the hydrangea in a polka-dot pitcher.

Easter Jonquils from 2014

My children decorated our home for Easter very early in the morning. This is one of our
family traditions. 
Jonquils or daffodils are some of their favorite flowers.
Jonquils are some of the very first flowers to blossom in the early spring. Most of our neighbors
 grow them beneath their shrubs and in planting beds around their homes.
My girls decorated the center of our Easter table with graphic postcards, white candles, large shells and chocolates.
Before plates, silverware, and goblets are added to the table, a runner is arranged down the
center of the table.
More close-ups of daffodils.

My Children's Easter Decorations from 2017

Coral colored floral bouquet with baby's breath. Speckled lavender, white and yellow Easter
 eggs, on top of a pale yellow table cloth.
The Easter cake decorated with just bit of splatter, edible Easter grass and chocolate eggs.
A close-up of the Easter basket, bisque porcelain egg box and milk glass vase.
The girls used a bit of butterfly figured wrapping paper to create a table runner.
Close-up photo of our Easter flowers.
A fake feathered chic and speckled eggs resting in pink and lavender Easter grass.
More Spring flowers at the guest tables.
"He Is Risen" Easter, strawberry baskets loaded with candy eggs and chocolate shaped carrots.

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Vintage Digital Papers in Shades of Green

       Visitors here may craft many lovely cards, scrapbook pages and other paper creations from the following digital printed papers. I have restored five green designs including all sorts of floral and fauna motifs from 1953. Enjoy! For personal use only.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

"Field of Flowers" digital paper

Sampler for pinning only.
Visitors here may craft many lovely cards, scrapbook pages and other paper creations from the following digital printed papers. I designed five color variations from an vintage print of flowers. Enjoy! For personal use only.

"Field of Flowers" in green.
"Field of Flowers" in lavender.
"Field of Flowers" in mango.
"Field of Flowers" in raspberry.
"Field of Flowers" in teal.

Friday, March 30, 2018


by Mary Lowe Dickinson

"Life for us is in His dying !" 
So our humbled souls keep crying;
While the Lenten tears fall faster
At the grave that shrouds the Master,
Till within that gloomy garden
Shines His presence and His pardon -
Glimpse of Easter glory giving -
Then, " Our life is in His living!"

While He, patient, waits the voicing
Of our triumph and rejoicing;
Filled with our own hearts' devices,
Still we bring our burial spices.
Yet the Love whose taking hallows
Our poor gifts of myrrh and aloes,
Rainbows e'en our tears, and raises
Broken, trembling prayers to praises.

Watcher where His grave glooms darken,
Lift thy shadowed soul, and harken!
Hear the strong, triumphant singing
Of the risen Christ, loud ringing
In glad anthems from the portals
Of the home of the Immortals!
" Sealed no longer death's dark prison -
Christ, the Conqueror, is risen!" 

Tarry not to place thy finger
In the wounds where nail-prints linger;
Leave the linen clothes that bound Him;
Sing, with Mary, "I have found Him!"
Be thy mighty love the token
That for thee His heart was broken.
Whom the living Christ hath shriven.
Knows, e'en here, the peace of Heaven. 

Death in Christ is dawning gladness;
Life in Christ is robbed of sadness;
Faith in Christ that will not falter
Crowns with Easter bloom His altar,
Decks His shrine in sweetness vernal,
Lives with Christ the life eternal.
Tells in song and chime and story,
All a risen Savior's glory.

The Crescent And The Cross


Kind was my friend who, in the Eastern land,
Remembered me with such a gracious hand,
And sent this Moorish Crescent, which has been
Worn on the haughty bosom of a queen.

No more it sinks and rises in unrest
To the soft music of her heathen breast;
No barbarous chief shall bow before it more,
No turban'd slave shall envy and adore.

I place beside this relic of the Sun
A Cross of cedar brought from Lebanon,
Once borne, perchance, by some pale monk who trod
The desert to Jerusalem - and his God !

Here do they lie, two symbols of two creeds,
Each meaning something to our human needs;
Both stained with blood, and sacred made by faith,
By tears and prayers, and martyrdom and death.

That for the Moslem is, but this for me!
The waning Crescent lacks divinity:
It gives me dreams of battles, and the woes
Of women shut in dim seraglios.

But when this Cross of simple wood I see,
The Star of Bethlehem shines again for me,
And glorious visions break upon my gloom -
The patient Christ, and Mary at the tomb.

The Easter Message


       Less than a century ago there were growing up in some of the cultured Christian homes of New England many children who later realized with regret that during their childhood days they had never known the symbolism or ever heard the name of Easter. Yet no more significant, spontaneous, or universally attractive festival has ever been instituted than that which celebrates the return of spring, the budding of leaves and flowers, and the triumphant hope that eternally beckons forward the human race.
"See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone."
Song of Solomon 2:11
       Older than Christianity and deeply rooted in the love of life itself, the spirit of Easter finds its most perfect expression in the Resurrection story of Jesus, There is, indeed, good cheer in the sight of flowers lifting their faces once more toward the sunlight, after the frosts and storms of winter have spent their force. The swelling seeds and changing tints of green give promise of the coming harvests and assure us of nature's ready response to our physical needs. The songs of the birds and the humming of the bees remind us of the rising tide of life that surrounds us and through countless channels is rushing onward with the pulse beat of recurring years. In all this stir of creative energy, this bursting of winter's fetters and the renewal of life's struggle for undisputed supremacy, we feel a kindling interest and secret joy, which carry us outside the old limitations and broaden the horizons of our purposes and hopes.
       But did the springtime come and go with no other message of inspiration, the world of mankind would grow old and weary and discouraged with its toil and disappointment, its wasting wars and ceaseless oppressions, its heroic attempts and saddening failures, and the oft recurring sight of its shining ideals cast to the earth and trampled upon by the gross feet of selfishness and indifference. Humanity knows but too well its own weakness and defects. Memory as well as science reminds us that one spring is like another, that man's life too is but a coming and a going, as the budding spring bursts into summer and comes at last to rest beneath winter's snow. But Easter adds the everlasting crown to man's hope and inspiration in the Resurrection story. Therein we pass from intimations of nature into the realm of human struggle and aspiration where the organizing forces of life surge to and fro with tragic consequence and man more often questions the worth of the final result.
       Back to the Gospel source go those whose faith in human possibilities and courage for unmeasured tasks must needs be renewed in some lifegiving stream. Not only in the buds and blossoms may we see the victory of life, but also in the story of Calvary and the Garden, where we find goodness and righteousness eternally triumphant over villainy and injustice, non-resistence over aggression, humility over pride, holiness over sin, love over hate. We are assured that though evil may hold the reins for a season, dominion and power belong ultimately to justice and right. However complete may be the temporary defeat of truth, error shall not always abide.
       Easter proclaims that man shall overcome all his foes, including death itself. His pathway may lead him through the sorrows of Gethsemane, the pain and darkness of Calvary, nevertheless his winter of distress will yet turn to the spring of delight, defeat will be forgotten in the joy of final victory, and the life of the spirit will rise in glory from the shadows of the grave.

Coloring page of Christ In Glory

Description of Coloring Page:  from a Belgian MS, four gospel symbols: the winged man, an eagle, a winged lion and a winged ox. The blessing of Jesus, second person of the Holy Trinity makes his sign with two fingers lifted, seated in the throne room of Heaven

Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.

Color The Passion Flower

Description of Coloring Page:  Passiflora, known also as the passion flowers or passion vines, is a genus of about 550 species of flowering plants, the type genus of the family Passifloraceae.They are mostly tendril-bearing vines, with some being shrubs or trees. They can be woody or herbaceous. Passion flowers produce regular and usually showy flowers with a distinctive corona.
       The flower was named after the Passion of Christ by Catholic priests during the 15th Century, The five sepals and five petals symbolize the 10 apostles faithful to Christ during his persecution (holy week) and the corona filament represent the crown of thorns that Jesus wore as he hung on the cross.
A photograph of a passion flower, most are purple to blue in color.
Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Heart's Flower

Heart's Flower
by Marion Mosbie

There grew a little flower once
That blossomed in a day;
Some said it would ever bloom,
And some, 'twould fade away.
Some said it was happiness,
And some said it was Spring,
Some said it was grief and tears
And many such a thing.
But still the little flower bloomed
And still it lived and throve,
Men do call it "Summer Growth,"

An Easter Offering

Ada Stewart Shelton

"Neither will I offer unto the Lord my God that which doth cost me nothing.'"

Within a crowded dwelling-place,
Climbing its narrow stair,
A little maid is toiling slow,
Who in her hand doth bear
A jug of water, which she guards
And holds with anxious care.

Slowly she climbs the stairway dim,
So narrow, steep, and high,
To where her little window looks
Out on a patch of sky;
And o'er a flower upon its ledge
She bends with loving eye.

The only treasure that is hers!
She dreams of it by night,
Guards it by day; the blue eyes watch
Its opening to the light.
Was ever lily seen before
So pure, so fair, so white?

Soon, very soon, is drawing near
The blessed Easter Day,
When from a grateful, loving heart
We give our best away.
What offering could the dear child make?
She ponders day by day.

Such scanty earnings naught could yield,
From them she fears to take ;
But there upon the window-ledge-
Oh! can she, can she make
Such sacrifice, and give her flower
For Easter - and His sake ?

The glad-voiced bells are chiming clear,
The dim-lit church is sweet
With font and chancel filled with flowers,
This Easter morn to greet,
When up the silent aisle there comes
A child with faltering feet.

Softly the notes from organ grand
Are stealing through the air;
Beneath the Altar's gleaming cross
She lays the lily fair,
And then all timidly she kneels,
And clasps her hands in prayer.
'Tis all I have," she murmurs low,
"Dear Lord, to give to Thee,
And so I bring this flower I love.
An offering from me;
For on this holy Easter Day
Thy child I pray to be."

Amid the throng at service hour,
In anthem, chant, and hymn,
One sweet voice rang, until it made
The older eyes grow dim;
They did not know what filled her heart
With gladness to the brim.

The best that it was hers to give,
That she had given away;
Not "that which cost her nothing," but
What nearest her heart lay.
Lord, grant that we may also give
Our best on Easter Day.

Easter Song

Easter Song
by Louisa Parsons Hopkins

THE song of the sap
From its mother's lap
Springing to welcome the Easter Day;
The song of the wood
That groweth good
With the sap that riseth and will not stay;

Clear harmonies
Of the fluted trees, -
The organ-pipes of the bird and bee ;
The voice that wells
From the leaflet-cells, -
A hidden murmur of melody!

The opening sheath
Of the willow's wreath;
Chorus of birds, high carolling;
The cymballed psalm
Of the air's soft palm
Closing after the cleaving wing;

The patter of showers,
The waving flowers,
The symphony of the south wind free;
The vibrant harp
Of the ice-clad scarp,
Struck to the chord of the sounding sea;

The whir of wings,
The bubbling springs,
The bursting ice and the melting snow;
The rapid's roar
And the rippling shore,
The unchained brooks and the rivers' flow;

The nestling broods,
The interludes
Of chirp and trill, of coo and call;
The loosening hold
Of the leaf-bud's fold,
And the resurrection of each and all!

Let the paean rise
In the eastern skies,
While planets sing on their mystic ways;
With heart and voice
Earth and heaven rejoice,
And the song of life be a song of praise!

With Palm Branches

With Palm Branches
by Lucy Larcom

MY soul hastens forth with hosannas,
To wave for the Victor her palm;
Every hope presses forward to meet Him,
Every thought rises up with a psalm.

The stones of the roadside sing praises;
Praise ripples the brook by the way;
The dumb heart of Nature rejoices;
Even silence is vocal to-day.

He goeth to cruel betrayal, -
The thorns and the spear-thrust to meet:
He refuseth no drop of death's anguish, -
The bitterness Love shall make sweet.

We would taste Thy cup with Thee, O Master!
We would share in Thy life, through Thy death!
For Thy sacrifice makes us immortal,
And we live but in breathing Thy breath.

Ride onward, O King of the lowly,
And trample our pride in Thy path!
Let us follow Thee, asking no honor
Save the blessing humility hath!

Ride on, and release us from evil!
Ride on, and redeem us from sin!
Every gate of our being flies open:
Ride on, to Thy Kingdom within!

Thine Easter Day

 Thine Easter Day
by Mary Lowe Dickinson

Within thy heart is there an opened tomb?
Have God's strong angels rolled the stone
Rises thy dead self from its bonds of clay?
Breaks Heaven's sweet light across the dark and
Then is this day in truth thine Easter day!

If broken down are stony gates of pride,
If shrouding bands of earth are torn away,
If sin and wrath and scorn in thee have died,
Mourn not the past. The folded shroud beside
Angels will watch; - it is thine Easter day.

Rise, new-born soul, and put thine armor on;
Clasp round thy breast the garment of the light;
Gird up thy loins for battle. In the fight
He leads who upward from our sight has gone;
It is His day; there's no more death nor night,

No dark, no hurt, no more sharp shame nor loss;
All buried, hidden 'neath the grave's dark sod;
All ways forgotten, save the road He trod;
All burdens naught in sight of His - the cross;
All joy, alive and safe with Christ in God!

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Easter Day

Easter Day 
by Sara Henderson Smith

Over the solemn night
Quivers the first dim light,
Sent forth to herald in the Christian Sabbath birth;
And like that feeble ray,
Scarce chasing gloom away.
Flickers the dawn of Faith, o'er the sin-darkened earth.

Faintly the morning beam,
By Cedron's cooling stream,
And dark Gethsemane, piercing the misty veil.
Reveals the sepulchre,
And its lone watcher - her
Who lingering still, pours forth her grief in low, deep

Mary, why weepest thou?"
Forgiven, sinless, now;
So soon the echo lost, that bade thee "go in peace."
Still in the cold, damp air,
Rises the grief-taught prayer.
Her Lord is taken hence, nor may her mourning cease.

"Mary, why weepest thou?"
Forgiven, sinless now!
Bowed to the earth, not then her Master's voice she
"Mary!" the thrilling tone
Now to her heart has gone.
Love taught her first to weep; Love has dried up her

Disciple of the Lord,
Who trembles at His word,
Be strong, like hers, thy love, tho' faith be dimmed
and weak.
Go wait, and watch, and pray, -
Turn not, if He delay, -
He knows thee by thy name, and to thy heart will speak.

E'en now the angel band
In light around thee stand -
Repentant and forgiven, asking, "Why weepest thou?"
But not till He appears
To gather up thy tears
They gem the love-wrought crown that glitters on
His brow.

Ring, Happy Bells!

Ring, Happy Bells!
by Lucy Larcom

RING, happy bells of Easter time!
The world is glad to hear your chime;
Across wide fields of melting snow
The winds of summer softly blow,
And birds and streams repeat the chime
Of Easter time.

Ring, happy bells of Easter time!
The world takes up your chant sublime,
"The Lord is risen! "The night of fear
Has passed away, and heaven draws near:
We breathe the air of that blest clime,
At Easter time.

Ring, happy bells of Easter time!
Our happy hearts give back your chime!
The Lord is risen ! We die no more:
He opens wide the heavenly door;
He meets us, while to Him we climb,
At Easter time.