Jesus bestows his peace differently from the world...

       The world is partial, prejudiced and class-conscious in its gift of peace. It exalts some by pulling down others. It enriches a few by impoverishing many. Jesus gives His peace to all who will accept Him. He draws no circles, builds no walls, makes no limitations as to caste, color, or character. His gracious invitation to peace, power and plenty is inclusive and all-encompassing. "Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart and ye shall find rest unto your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
      Jesus' gift of peace is Himself. He had nothing to give the world save Himself, and greater gift than self no one can give. The world balks at giving self, it bestows favors, offices, emoluments. Jesus gave Himself in His death on the cross. Dying there amid darkness and degradation He made peace, individual peace, possible for the least and lowliest of earth. There are many theories of the atonement, and followers of Christ will never be agreed upon any one of these theories, but the glorious fact of the atonement is not disputable or under debate or question. Says St. Paul‚"He is our peace." By His death there on that central cross Jesus led the way for enduring peace, not only between God and man, but between man and man. The peace councils of the world have not yet learned the way of the cross. Their way is still the way of the sword and that is the way of death and darkness and suffering.
      Jesus' gift of Himself is also in life, the life of His free and victorious Spirit through which He abides in every heart which accords Him room. Most gifts lose sooner or later their power to thrill, to interest, to please, but not so this gift of Christ given freely to everyone who will receive Him. Whoso possesses the world's peace will thirst again, but whoso possesses the peace of Christ will never know the necessity for anything better or more satisfying. His is the peace that passes all understanding because of its exquisitely fine quality, its lastingness and satisfying nature.
      How impoverished the centuries would be if there were taken from them the lives of many humble and lowly who were filled with the peace of Jesus Christ. As for the mighty men who led in world-movements and helped to change the course of history for the better, Christ's peace ruled their lives. St. Paul knew that peace and it enabled him to establish the Christian faith in hostile communities, testify before kings and queens, and face lion-heartedly brutal mobs bent on putting him to death. Martin Luther knew this peace of Christ and amidst the wildest storms of controversy he stood undaunted and persevering in his mighty tasks. Abraham Lincoln possessed this peace and it taught him patience and kept him calm and sweet when rancor and contumely swirled around him as furious floods swirl around a massive pier.
      Oh, ye hosts who know only the world's peace! Go get ye to the upper room and there learn the peace that is pure, just and holy‚ the peace that Christ gives to all; the peace for which a war-scourged world waits. For without His peace all plans and programs of disarmament will be but as some fair dream which vanishes with the morning and cannot be recalled. 

 

'Let your living water flow' by Vinesong

The World's Peace is Outward Calm

      The world in general regards peace as an end, rather than a means. It conceives peace to be the cessation of war, stoppage of conflict, restoration of law and order. This is desirable, to be sure, but the bitter truth is that real peace is not attainable by mere outward adjustment. Moreover, peace, enduring peace, is not only the ending of one order that has been weighed in the balance and found wanting, it is the beginning of a new and better order in which justice, righteousness and brotherhood are to prevail. Alas! it is only too true that we are all to a greater or lesser degree affected with the worldly idea of peace. We stress outward things, and look for the coming of the Kingdom through exterior processes. The world as yet has failed to make a lasting peace. Time and time again great peace councils have, by the very terms of peace the victor sought to impose, sown the seeds of future wars.

Great Captains with their guns and drums,

Disturb our judgment for the hour.

But at last silence comes,

      Yes, silence comes, and just about the time when sober reflection and careful judgment is replacing the fever and excitement of war, great captains with their guns and drums disturb our judgment again;  disturb it with the roar of cannon and the loosing of the dogs of war upon a helpless society. The world professes to love peace, brotherhood and justice, but conquerors and victors are quick to make sure that the balance of power is on their side, and that armies and navies big enough to keep the peace are in training and ready for action.

      Few of us are free from the opinion that outside favorable conditions are able to produce of themselves inward repose. We think, for instance, that the possession of sufficient wealth to protect us from the annoyances and anxieties attendant on meager incomes and heavy outlays would produce a peace, where now there is only distraction and anxiety. That it might help accomplish this is freely granted, that society as a whole ought to be protected from the fear of poverty as well as the handicap of it is likewise granted. Yet, even so, the most generous provisions, the most ample safeguarding of this kind cannot of itself produce inward calm. There are many living amid physical conditions that are favorable to rest, recreation and wide travel who are inwardly in a constant state of turbulency, turmoil, and strife. Tribulations, however, of one kind or another await the sons of men everywhere, and wait us despite wealth, genius, and even godly living. These tribulations are inescapable, but they are conquerable. Jesus overcame them, and the same power that enabled Him to overcome, He assures us, will enable us to overcome. It is the inner peace that counts. Given the inner peace and the ideals and teachings of Jesus, and the result is a peace such as the world cannot give because the world has it not.

      Why is it that society is slow to accept Christ's peace? Why is it that individuals are prone to turn

 elsewhere for power, only to meet disappointment? Is it because we do not understand the nature of His peace? Possibly. But a better explanation is that we are not willing to receive His peace on the simple terms He offers it. It is not true that the peace of God is given without conditions, even though it be freely given and given to all men. "These things have I spoken that in me you might have peace." Ah, yes, the things spoken in that conversation at the table, we must not forget them. They are all-important, they are fundamental. Summarized, these things are as follows, "Abide in Me." Let "My words abide in you." "Love one another even as I have loved you." "Keep My commandments." "Bear much fruit." "Bear witness." "Ask and ye shall receive." "I have given you an example that you should do as I have done to you." "Be of good cheer." The peace of Jesus Christ is an inward rest, but it is more, it is a way of life in which love, justice, mercy, forgiveness, find radiant demonstration.

      "When he called upon men to follow him, to share his baptism and drink his cup," says W. E. Orchard, "He was not mocking them with impossible ideals. He was asking them to be as he was, to live for the same ends, to undertake the same task. Jesus invited men to his ethical and spiritual level. The blunting of this call by the declaration that Jesus can never be followed by mortal men is responsible for the low state of Christian discipleship."

      Candor compels the admission that the world's idea of peace is still influential in the churches. Here too, the emphasis is largely on outward conformity, the dependence on ecclesiastical and doctrinal regularity. These have been only too often the weapons of Christendom to enforce uniformity and promote appearance of solidarity. The various denominations, after the fashion of nations, have their "war parties," their "jingoes" and "dollar diplomacy." These powerful elements are intent on preserving traditional ideas and time-worn methods, by recourse to sectarian armament and threat of excommunication or brand of heresy and stigma of unorthodoxy. Thus has the cause of Jesus' peace been betrayed oft-times in the house of the Master. Sectarian disarmament must take place among the denominations before the Church can ever have an influential voice and great prestige in the Peace Councils of the world.

Jesus Peace is Inward Rest

       Jesus' phrase "My peace" is distinctly interesting and thought-inciting. What is the peace which He intimates is unlike the peace the world gives? I daresay that most of us are mistaken as to the nature of Jesus' peace. When we think of His peaceful life, is it to dream that His days and years were such, say, as the poet Wordsworth spent in the lovely lake region of England, quietly, serenely? If we have so thought we are in error. Nothing could be farther from the truth. For at least three years, the years of His public ministry, Jesus lived amidst untoward conditions and in almost constant controversy and opposition. He was subject to numerous disturbing and disagreeable experiences. His own family were unsympathetic with His mission. His kinsmen made His work more difficult and were critical of much that He said and did. He was never free from the inconveniences of poverty. After His public ministry began, He seems never to have known the comforts of a home which He might call His own and to which He might retire for rest and reflection. His oft-quoted words‚"The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has not where to lay His head" were not poetry or rhetorical figure, but soberest truth. The leading Churchmen of His day, who should have been His friends and supporters, were His bitterest enemies. They regarded Him as a heretic, an impostor, and a dangerous fellow-countryman. His was the heartbreaking experience to have the good that He did attributed to the power of evil. His chosen disciples gave Him a great deal of trouble, often disappointed Him, sometimes embarrassed Him and made His rugged way more rugged still.
      Yet, despite the annoyances, the turmoil, and the strife in which Jesus lived, the peace that passeth all understanding reigned in His heart. However turbulent His surroundings, inwardly He was at repose. It was Jesus' inner peace that made Him conqueror of outward unrest. He lived in harmony with the Father's will, and His conscience was as untroubled as the placid surface of a mountain lake when the wind has died down and a calm settles over all. No memories of a misspent youth rose up to haunt Him, no feeling of remorse or sorrow of sin darkened the mirror of His spotless life. Thus He moved amidst the distractions, the disappointments, the conflicts and controversies of His day, calm, serene, self-possessed, at peace with God. The peace of Jesus, therefore, was an inward experience, not an outward environment, certainly not freedom from the burdens of life. The way He took was often painful, but His walk was one whose steps were in perfect alignment with the will of the Heavenly Father.

 

''It Is Well With My Soul" sung by Sovereign Grace Music

 

The Peace Christ Gives...

"These things I spoken unto you, that in Me ye may have peace. In the world ye have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. John 16: 33

      Was there ever a stranger peace conference than that one of the upper room in Jerusalem nineteen centuries ago? How far removed and how different this assembly from those famous peace conferences where the victors in battle have dictated terms to the conquered foe. Such councils have usually met in palatial rooms flanked by the spectacle of earthly power and glory. Pomp and pageantry have always been in evidence when nations have assumed the role of peacemaking. How difficult it is for peace to emerge from an atmosphere of war. Fuss and feathers smother; sword and saber intimidate; the kingdom of peace cometh not by violence.

      Gathered in the upper room in Jerusalem was a group of men, plain, simple men, and with them their Teacher, Companion and Friend met together for the last time ere the great storm broke. The shadows were long and deep in that room, and they fell darkly across the little company who for nearly three years had been partakers of a great privilege. These men were anxious now and nervous. They were filled with apprehension of impending peril. The signs and tokens were ominous; a tragedy seemed confronting them, but just when and how and where, they knew not. Yet there was one in that room upon whom no shadow fell. He was calm, clear-eyed, composed and serene. He sat there talking with His friends, simply, tenderly, intimately. Surely no man ever spoke as Jesus spoke that night in the upper room. Such a conversation there never was before or since, and toward its close Jesus said: "These things have I spoken unto you that in Me you might have peace."

      What things? Why the great utterances that had preceded this statement. They are many of them and they distinguish His conversation that last night as stars of the first magnitude distinguish the Heavens. Listen to the music of these words:

Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. Have I been so long time with you, and dost thou not know me, Philip ? He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father. Ye are my friends, if you do the things which I command you. If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you will, and it shall be done unto you.This is my commandment, that you love one another, even as I have loved you. Peace I leave with you; My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you.

 

Sung by The Truro Cathedral Choir by Philip Stopford

Fans and Flowers For Spring

 

Description of Illustration: blue bonnet, lily of the valley, violet ribbon, apron, Victorian child, large palm fan, die cut, scrap for crafting, restored die cut, primrose, white feathers, pink silk fan, five petal yellow Ranunculus or Woodsorrel

• Read about how to craft fan folded palm branches here
• Learn how to make accordion fanfold paper dolls for your Easter egg tree here

"Speak not evil one of another." James 6:11.
scripture included.

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Perseverance Conquers or “perseverado vincit!”

"Rock of Ages" sung by Chosen Generation Gospel Choir

       This is an old motto that has stood the test of centuries. “Perseverance conquers.” Yes, to keep pace with the progress that is now going on along every line of activity, requires not a little energy. Nothing short of a struggle is necessary if we are to master the many problems before us as individuals, as a community, as a nation, and also as a church of God. It has been so in the past. Kingdoms and empires were reared, often out of a state of chaos. The Church, also, was harassed and rent by schisms within and vicious attacks from without. Yet it stands to-day firmly resting on its imperishable foundation, the “Rock of Ages,” Jesus Christ. But to weather all these storms, both in church and state, there was need of much perseverance. Indeed, from the beginning to the present day, it has been a case of “Perseverando vincit.”

      Even in our church work here we have need of a great amount of this trait. The fruits of our labors are not so readily forthcoming as we would wish. Some people, in their utter blindness to all that pertians to their moral and spiritual welfare, will, in spite of our best efforts to enlighten them, prefer to spend their time, their money, and in themselves, for instance, “nickelodeons” and other “five-cent” demoralizing institutions, rather than take active part in Christian work. So cheaply do they value their souls!

      Hence, we have need of much perseverance. But let us not forget that in this case, as well as all others, with the help of God, “perseverado vincit!” Sermon by Rev. Carl J. Segerhammer.

Use Technology for Peace Not War

      The LORD will mediate between nations and will settle international disputes. They will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will no longer fight against nation, nor train for war anymore. Isaiah 2:4

Through A Glass Darkly

       We are strangers in the universe of God. Confined to that spot on which we dwell, we are permitted to know nothing of what is transacting in the regions above and around us. By much labor we acquire a superficial acquaintance with a few sensible objects which we find in our present habitation; but we enter and we depart, under a total ignorance of the nature and laws of the spiritual world. One subject in particular, when our thoughts proceed in this train, must often recur upon the mind with peculiar anxiety; that is the immortality of the soul, and the future state of man. Exposed as we are at present to such variety of afflictions, and subjected to so much disappointment in all our pursuits of happiness, why, it may be said, has our gracious Creator denied us the consolation of a full discovery of our future existence, if indeed such an existence be prepared for us? 

      Reason, it is true, suggests many arguments in behalf of immortality; Revelation gives full assurance of it. Yet even that Gospel, which is said to have brought “life and immortality to light,” allows us to see only “through a glass darkly.” “It doth not yet appear what we shall be.” Our knowledge of a future world is very imperfect; our ideas of it are faint and confused. It is not displayed in such a manner as to make an impression suited to the importance of the object. The faith even of the best men is much inferior, both in clearness and in force, to the evidence of sense; and proves on many occasions insufficient to counterbalance the temptations of the present world. Happy moments indeed there sometimes are in the lives of pious men; when, sequestered from worldly cares, and borne up on the wing of divine contemplation, they rise to a near and transporting view of immortal glory. But such efforts of the mind are rare, and cannot be long supported. When the spirit of meditation subsides, this lively sense of a future state decays; and though the general belief of it remains, yet even good men, when they return to the ordinary business and cares of life, seem to rejoin the multitude, and to resume the same hopes, and fears, and interests, which influence the rest of the world. -by Rev. Hugh Blair, D. D.

"Love Your Neighbor" coloring page

Description of Coloring Page: text, appears in Bible in Leviticus 19:18, Matthew 22:37-39, and Mark 12:29-31, butterfly coloring page by kathy grimm

• "He is Risen Indeed!" Butterfly Coloring Page
• Learn how to draw baby chicks scratching here and there, looking for something to eat!
  

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.

Death An Angel of Light

        Are we then immortal? Oh! then, we are "blessed" indeed! Death is not the frightful monster which he is so constantly represented to be; he is an angel of light and mercy, veiling his resplendent glories under the shadowy drapery of the tomb, lest the saints should become so much enamored with his loveliness, as to hasten at once to leave this erring, darkened world, to dwell in his radiant dominion, and thus deprive the earth of the salt which has so long preserved it from destruction. His exit, through the frowning portals of the grave, is but to prevent those who are "in the Lord," from crowding, with hasty, willing steps, the pathway to his mysterious dwelling place, so delightful and glorious, as soon as the gloomy exterior is passed! Can it be, that this body, soon to become inanimate, and waste to dust, can, and will, revive and live ? that the eye, though dimmed with the film of death, will rebrighten, and sparkle with looks of recognition and love? That this lifeless body, once so loved, and embraced with the fondest affection and delight, but now so loathsome that it is looked upon with horror, and we bear it from our sight, and conceal it from view in the dark earth, will come forth more perfect and glorious than ever? Yea, saith the Spirit; from henceforth, "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord;" for "It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." Then shall death be swallowed up in victory. Oh! are they not "blessed" who die only to live forever, in a state so infinitely above the most perfect condition of humanity, that it is " not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." Rev. Sidney Dyer, D. D.

WHAT IS DEATH?

" What is the soul? The seminal principle from the loins of destiny,

This world is the womb: the body, its enveloping membrane :

The bitterness of dissolution, dame Fortune's pangs of childbirth.

What is death? To be born again, an angel of eternity."

Buzurgi. {The Persian Poet)

Right and Wrong Views of Death

Too much vision?

       We employ with regard to death a great deal of pagan imagery, which can hardly fail to let low and unworthy ideas into our minds. We talk of the blighting of early promise, of the premature death of the young and the beautiful. We too often speak of the pure and the good that have gone from us, as if they were objects of pity. We regret for them the brief pleasures, the withering joys of the passing day. And then our thoughts revert, oftener than a high Christian culture should permit, to the sad accompaniments of dissolution and the last lonely home of the frail tenement of clay, even as the caterpillar might look upon the torn covering of the chrysalis as all that remained of his fellow-worm, ignorant that the rent and forsaken tabernacle marked the higher birth of its tenant. But our faith tells us that to those to whom it was Christ to live, it is gain to die. Let our thoughts, then, linger not about the grave, but seek our kindred in the nearer presence of their Father and their Savior, in the home where every holy wish is met and every pure desire fulfilled, where suffering and sorrow are no more, and life clothes itself in eternal youth and unfading beauty. What would our brief joys be to those to whom all the avenues of divine wisdom are free, the riches of infinite love unfolded, and a boundless sphere of duty and of happiness laid open? In the language of Moore: Prof. A. P. Peabody, D. D.

How happy
The holy spirits who wander there,
'Mid flowers that shall never fade or fall !
Though mine were the gardens of earth and sea,
Though the stars themselves had flowers for me,
One blossom of heaven out-blooms them all.
Go, wing thy flight from star to star,
From world to luminous world, as far
As the universe spreads its flaming wall ;
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,
One minute of heaven is worth them all. 

Influence Of The Dead...

       Oh, tell me not that they are dead - that generous host, that airy army of invisible heroes! They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this nation. Are they dead that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are they dead that yet move upon society, and inspire the people with nobler motives and more heroic patriotism? Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured name, every river shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake shall cherish its honored register; and, till the mountains are worn out, and the rivers forget to flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and the springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are inscribed upon the book of national remembrance. Henry Ward Beecher

"The Most Famous Man in America" Henry Ward Beecher

The Dead Live Beyond

 The Dead Live Beyond

His is not dead, but only lieth sleeping

In the sweet refuge of his Master's breast,

And far away from sorrow, toil, and weeping

He is not dead, but only taking rest.

What tho the highest hopes he dearly cherished

All faded gently as the setting sun;

What tho our own fond expectations perished

Ere yet life's noblest labors seemed begun.

What tho he standeth at no earthly altar,

Yet in white raiment, on the golden floor,

Where love is perfect, and no step can falter,

He serveth as a priest for evermore!

O glorious end of life's short day of sadness,

O blessed course so well and nobly run!

O home of true and everlasting gladness,

O crown unfading! and so early won!

Tho tears will fall we bless thee, O our Father,

For the dear one forever with the blest, 

And wait the Easter dawn when thou shalt gather

Thine own, long parted, to their endless rest.

"Take my hand and lead me" hymn

The Christian's Death

       For centuries the world has admired the calmness and fortitude of Socrates in the presence of death, but if Socrates died like a philosopher, Patrick Henry died like a Christian. In his last illness, all other remedies having failed, his physician, Doctor Cobell, proceeded to administer to him a dose of liquid mercury. Taking the vial in his hand, and looking at it for a moment, the dying man said:

      "I suppose doctor, this is your last resort?''

      " I am sorry to say, governor, that it is."

      "What will be the effect of this medicine?"

      "It will give you immediate relief, or--"

      The doctor could not finish the sentence.

      His patient too up the word: "You mean, doctor, that it will give relief or will prove fatal immediately?"

      "You can live only a very short time without it," the doctor answered, "and it may possibly relieve you."

      Then the old statesman said:

      "Excuse me, doctor, for a few minutes," and drawing over his eyes a silken cap which he usually wore, and still holding the vial in his hand, he prayed in clear words a simple, childlike prayer for his family, for his country, and for his own soul, then in the presence of death. Afterward, in perfect calmness, he swallowed the medicine.

      Meanwhile Doctor Cobell, who greatly loved him, went out to the lawn, and in his grief threw himself down upon the earth under one of the trees, and wept bitterly. Soon, when he had sufficiently mastered himself, the doctor returned to his patient, whom he found calmly watching the congealing blood under his finger-nails, and speaking words of love and peace to his family, who were weeping round his chair.

      Among other things, he told them that he was thankful for that goodness of God which, having blest him through all his life, was then permitting him to die without any pain. Finally fixing his eyes with much tenderness upon his dear friend, Doctor Cobell, with whom he had formerly held many arguments respecting the Christian religion, he asked the doctor to observe how great a reality and benefit that religion was to a man about to die.

      And after Patrick Henry had spoken these few words in praise of something which, having never failed him in his life before, did not then fail him in his very last need of it, he continued to breath very softly for some moments, after which they who were looking upon him saw that his life had departed. -- The Youth's Companion 

• Who Was Patrick Henry?
• Patrick Henry Memorial Foundation - Red Hill

"Blessed Assurance" hymn recorded from Hymn For Today

Hope Beyond The Grave

 Hope Beyond The Grave

This night, and the landscape is lovely no more;

I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you,

For morn is approaching your charms to restore,

Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew,

Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;

Kind nature the embryo blossom will save.

But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?

Oh! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?

"Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,

That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind,

My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,

Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.

"Oh, pity, great Father of Light!" then I cried,

"Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee!

Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:

From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free."

And darkness and doubt are now flying away;

No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn:

So breaks on the traveler, faint and astray,

The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.

See Truth, Love and Mercy, in triumph descending,

And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom.

On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,

And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.

by James Beattie, LL. D.

Nearer, My God, to Thee.

from Pilgrim's Praises

The Buds Opening in Heaven

Child with flower.

       Heaven is greatly made up of little children, sweet buds that have never blown, or which death has plucked from a mother's bosom to lay on his own cold breast, just when they were expanding, flower-like, from the sheath, and opening their engaging beauties in the budding time and spring of life. 'Of such is the kingdom of heaven.' How sweet these words by the cradle of a dying infant! They fall like balm drops on our bleeding heart, when we watch the ebbing of that young life, as wave after wave breaks feebler, and the sinking breath gets lower and lower, till with a gentle sigh, and a passing quiver of the lip, our child now leaves its body, lying like an angel asleep, and ascends to the beatitudes of heaven and the bosom of God. Indeed it may be, that God does with his heavenly garden, as we do with our gardens. He may chiefly stock it from nurseries, and select for transplanting what is yet in its young and tender age--flowers before they have bloomed, and trees ere they begin to bear. Rev Dr. Guthrie

"'Tis sweet to die! The flowers of earthly love,

(Fair, frail spring blossoms) early droop and die;

Upon our spirits evermore to lie

Fanny Forrester.

The Belfry Pigeon

 The Belfry Pigeon

by Nathaniel Parker Willis

On the cross-beam under the Old South bell

The nest of a pigeon is builded well

In summer and winter that bird is there,

Out and in with the morning air;

I love to see him track the street,

With his wary eye and active feet;

And I often watch him as he springs,

Circling the steeple with easy wings,

Till across the dial his shade has passed,

And the belfry edge is gained at last;

'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note,

And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;

There's a human look in its swelling breast,

And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;

And I often stop with the fear I feel--

He runs so close to the rapid wheel.

Whatever is rung on that noisy bell--

Chime of the hour, or funeral knell--

The dove in the belfry must hear it well.

When the tongue swings out to the midnight

moon,

When the sexton cheerly rings for noon,

When the clock strikes clear at morning 

light,

When the child is waked with "nine at 

night,"

When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,

Filling the spirit with tones of prayer,--

Whatever tale in the bell is heard,

He broods on his folded feet unstirred,

Or, rising half in his rounded nest,

He takes the time to smooth his breast,

Then drops again, with filmed eyes,

And sleeps as the last vibration dies.

Sweet bird! I would that I could be

A hermit in the crowd like thee!

With wings to fly to wood and glen,

Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men;

And daily, with unwilling feet,

I tread, like thee, the crowded street, 

But, unlike me, when day is o'er,

Thou canst dismiss the world, and soar;

Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,

Canst smooth the feathers on thy breast,

And drop, forgetful, to thy nest.

I would that, in such wings of gold,

I could my weary heart unfold;

I would I could look down unmoved

(Unloving as I am unloved),

And while the world throngs on beneath,

Smooth down my cares and calmly breathe;

And never sad with others' sadness,

And never glad with others' gladness,

Listen, unstirred, to knell or chime,

And, lapped in quiet, bide my time.

The Hope of Immortality

        Such worshipers of the new are all made by the creative genius of our era, that in order to appreciate the old you must ask your imagination to picture them as coming up before you for the first time. With what tears of joy would you hail the hope of immortality had that hope just come into the world! If dust had been the assumed end of man, what discovery of science or art would compare in sublimity with the sudden assurance of a second and blessed life? Such an expectation dwarfs all the common hopes of this world. A Prince yearly approaching a throne, a gifted mind gathering up the honors of learning or power, a citizen drawing near a fabulous fortune, are all small scenes or outlooks compared with that of a humble child steadily moving toward an endless and painless being. When you remember how you all love life and feel sad over the fact that the grave is before you, you may well be amazed at the height and depth of the doctrine of a second existence that shall be in all ways higher and sweeter than this. The slowness with which this notion came to man has hidden its vastness. Its age is a witness for its truth, but is against its grandeur as a thought. It is modified by its antiquity as mountains are made treeless and cold by intervening miles. Their verdure, and cascades, and song of birds are all toned away from the senses by their distance. They are spoken of as "gray," or "hazy," or " blue." One simple attribute thus remains out of a marvelous richness and variety. From many old doctrines has the multitude moved away until ideas are seen in some one dead color - ideas vast as God and beautiful as Paradise.

       When love once fears that it may cease, it has already ceased. It is all the same to our hearts, whether the beloved one fades away or only his love. Prof. David Swing

"Immortal, Invisible" Hymn, 

This version by Tommy Walker Ministries

Thoughts In Sickness

"My mouth is filled with your praise, declaring your
splendor all day long." Psalms 71:8

Thoughts In Sickness

by Lord John Manners

I know not how it is, but man ne'er sees
The glory of this world, its streams, and trees,
Its thousand forms of beauty that delight
The soul, the sense, and captivate the sight
So long as laughing health vouchsafes to stay,
And charm the traveler on his joyous way.
No! man can ne'er appreciate this earth,
Which he has lived and joyed in from his birth,
Till pain or sickness from his sight removes
All that in health he valued not, yet loves.
Then, then it is he learns to feel the ties
Of earth and all its sweetest sympathies;
Then he begins to know how fair, how sweet,
Were all those flowers that bloomed beneath his
feet:
Then he confesses that before in vain,
The wild flowers flourished in the lonely plain: 
Then he remembers that the lark would sing,
Making the heavens with her music ring,
And he ungrateful never cared to hear
Those tuneful orisons at daybreak clear;
While all the glories that enrich this earth,
Crowd on the brain, and magnify its worth
Till truant fancy quits the couch of pain,
To rove in health's gay fields and woods again!
But when some pang his wandering sense recalls,
And chains the sufferer to his prison walls,
What to his anguish adds a sharper sting,
And plumes the feathers on affliction's wing?
W r hat but the thought that in his hour of health,
He slighted these, for glory, power, or wealth.
And, oh ! how trivial when compared to these,
Seem all those pleasures which are said to please!
At morn, when through the open lattice float
The hymns of praise from many a warbler's throat,
The sick man turns with pained and feverish start,
And groans in abject bitterness of heart.
Whence, say, ye vain ones, whence that soul-drawn
groan ?
Came it from anguish, or from pain alone?
Think ye, reflection was not busy there,
Borne on the sunbeam wafted by the air,
That speaks upbraiding, though its balmy voice
Whispers bright hopes, and bids his soul rejoice!
So feel I now, and should gay health once more
Glow in my frame, as it has glowed of yore,
Oh ! may I prove my thankfulness, and show
I feel the glory of all things below! 

Death The Gate of Life

        Oh! death!-dark hour to hopeless unbelief! hour to which, in that creed of despair, no hour shall succeed! being's last hour! to whose appalling darkness, even the shadows of an avenging retribution were brightness and relief-death! what art thou to the Christian's assurance? Great hour of answer to life's prayer-great hour that shall break asunder the bond of life's mystery-hour of release from life's burden‚-hour of reunion with the loved and lost-what mighty hopes, hasten to their fulfillment in thee! What longings, what aspirations-breathed in the still night, beneath the silent stars-what dread emotions of curiosity-what deep meditations of joy-what hallowed imaginings of never experienced purity and bliss-what possibilities shadowing forth unspeakable realities to the soul, all verge their consummation in thee! Oh! death! the Christian's death! what art thou but the gate of life, the portal of heaven, the threshold of eternity! Rev. Orville Dewey, D. D.

Instrumental "Hymn Of Heaven" 
from Worship Portal Plus

The Dead Are The Living

        I have seen one die - the delight of his friends, the pride of his kindred, the hope of his country: but he died! How beautiful was that offering upon the altar of death! The fire of genius kindled in his eye; the generous affections of youth mantled in his cheek; his foot was upon the threshold of life; his studies, bis preparations for honored and useful fife, were completed; his breast was filled with a thousand glowing, and noble, and never yet expressed aspirations; but he died! He died; while another, of a nature dull, coarse and unrefined, of habits low, base, and brutish, of a promise that had nothing in it but shame and misery - such an one, I say was suffered to encumber the earth. Could this be, if there were no other sphere for the gifted, the aspiring, and the approved, to act in? Can we believe that the energy just trained for action, the embryo thought just bursting into expression, the deep and earnest passion of a noble nature, just swelling into the expansion of every beautiful virtue, should never manifest its power, should never speak, should never unfold itself? Can we believe that all this should die; while meanness, corruption, sensuality, and every deformed and dishonored power should five? No, ye goodly and glorious ones ! ye godlike in youthful virtue! - ye die not in vain: ye teach, ye assure us, that ye are gone to some world of nobler life and action.

       I have seen one die; she was beautiful; and beautiful were the ministries of life that were given her to fulfill. Angelic loveliness enrobed her; and a grace as if it were caught from heaven, breathed in every tone, hallowed every affection, shone in every action - invested, as a halo, her whole existence, and made it a light and blessing, a charm and a vision of gladness, to all around her: but she died! Friendship, and love, parental fondness, and infant weakness, stretched out their hand to save her; but they could not save her: and she died! What! did all that loveliness die? Is there no land of the blessed and the lovely ones, for such to live in? Forbid it, reason, religion! - bereaved affection, and undying love! forbid the thought! It cannot be that such die in God's counsel, who live even in frail human memory, forever! Rev. Orville Dewey, D. D.

Death Is Life

        Then familiarize your mind with the inevitable event of death. Think of it, as life! Gloomy though the portal seems, death is the gate of life to a good and pious man. Think of it therefore, not as death, but as glory - going to heaven and to your father. Regard it in the same light as the good man who said when I expressed my sorrow to see him sinking into the grave, "I am going home." If you think of it as death, then let it be as the death of sin; the death of pain; the death of fear; the death of care; the death of Death. Regard its pangs and struggles as the battle that goes before victory; its troubles as the swell of the sea on heaven's happy shore; and yon gloomy passage as the cypress-shaded avenue that shall conduct your steps to heaven. It is life through Christ, and life in Christ; life most blissful, and life evermore, How much happier and holier we should be if we could look on death in that light. I have heard people say, that we should think each morning that we may be dead before night; and each night that we may be dead before morning! True: yet how much better to think every morning, I may be in heaven before night; and every night that the head is laid on the pillow, and the eyes are closed for sleep, to think, next time I open them it may be to look on Jesus, and the land where there is no night, nor morning; nor sunset, nor cloud; nor grave nor grief; nor sin, nor death, nor sorrow; nor toil, nor trouble; where "they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them." Rev. Dr. Guthrie.

Heaven Is Full of Children

Grandson and grandmother read
together.

        Think it, at least, highly probable, that where our Lord says, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not for of such is the kingdom of heaven,' He does not only intimate the necessity of our becoming like little children in simplicity, as a qualification, without which (as he expressly declares in other places) we cannot enter into his kingdom, but informs us of a fact, that the number of infants, who are effectually redeemed unto God by His blood, so greatly exceeds the aggregate of adult believers, that, comparatively speaking, His kingdom may be said to consist of little children. As if the full import of what He had said to his disciples was, think not that little children are beneath my notice; think not that I am a stranger to little children; suffer them to come to me, and forbid them not. I have often been in their society; I love their society; the world from which I came, and to which I go, is full of little children.

"Flowers that once had loved to linger

In the world of human love,

Touch'd by death's decaying finger

For better life. above!

O! ye stars! ye rays of glory!

Gem-lights in the glittering dome!

Could ye not relate a story

Of the spirits gather'd home?" 

The Many Mansions

       As one of the many mansions is the destined future Heaven of the redeemed human race, the other numerous mansions must be other heavens, severally allotted to those armies of angels over all of whom, though each army be immediately subjected to its own special commander, the great archangel presides, and is thence congruously revealed as the Captain of the Host of Jehovah.
       But the particular mansion allotted to the redeemed human race, is this very planet of ours when the dissolved first earth shall have passed away so far as its present organization is concerned, and shall have been succeeded by a new earth framed out of the present dissipated materials.
       Hence, if our future heaven be one of the innumerable orbs which are all the handiwork of the Almighty Creator, analogy requires that the other heavens should be the other orbs: and thus we have a consistent explanation of the many mansions which our Lord declares to be in the House of His Heavenly Father. - by Farber

• Father's House - Many Mansions!
• What does the term "mansion" mean in John 14:2?
• What Does "Many Mansions" Really Mean?

"Many Mansions" sung by Moe Bandy

The Immortal Life

 The Immortal Life

The insect bursting from its tomb-like bed --
The grain that in a thousand grains revives --
The trees that seem in wintry torpor dead --
Yet each new year renewing their green lives;
All teach, without the added aid of Faith,
That life still triumphs o'er apparent death!

But dies the insect when the summer dies;
The grain hath perished, though the plant remain;
In death, at last, the oak of ages lies;
Here Reason halts, nor further can attain,
For Reason argues but from what she sees,
Nor traces to their goal these mysteries.
 

But Faith the dark hiatus can supply --

Teaching, eternal progress still shall reign:
Telling (as these things aid her to espy)
In higher worlds that higher laws obtain;
Pointing, with radiant finger raised on high,
From life that still revives, to life that cannot die.

 

The caterpillar transformed...

Journey To Heaven

        Our highest aspiration must wait. We are here to get through the world. Life is a road where we camp for a night on a journey to the golden gate and the setting sun; a traveler who sets up his tent at dark  does not plant corn or put out a grape-vine, if when the morning comes he expects to pull his tent down and march on. Men are born upon the shore of one ocean; by traveling lightly and never losing a moment, and marching bravely on, through forest, over desert, mountain and river, the traveler can  reach the other ocean in time to catch the little boat that slips out into the dark, and sails out of sight with God alone. But the traveler must not expect to plant harvests and grow vineyards while out upon his march. Yonder lie the happy hills of God. There no winter falls, there the summer sheds its warmth always upon the violet beds. There youth is perfect and beauty is eternal. There every ambition will be perfected, every dream realized; every hope turned to fruition, and the soul is a tree  waving its fruit and casting down its purple vintage at the feet of the God of the summer. - N. D. Hillis.

"When God Forgives" by Daily Bread

An Empty Nest: A Sonnet

An Empty Nest: A Sonnet

by Edwin Clarence Sprague

Deep in the forest dell I found a nest,

Empty and silent, swaying to and fro,

Rocked by the breezes that did gently blow,

Nor for a moment seemed to be at rest.

Wrecked was its structure by the brambles pressed;

Once 'twas the home wherein wee nestlings lie

Blinking with wonder at the summer sky,

Longing to soar upon its airy crest.

So may my soul be strengthened day by day,

And graced by patient waiting year by year,

That I might long to rise and soar away

When that last hour to me is drawing near

To that great realm, where in peace and rest, 

I'll leave-behind the old deserted nest.

 

Nest die cut.

The Voices of The Dead...

        The world is filled with the voices of the dead. They speak not from the public records of the great world only, but from the private history of our own experience. They speak to us in a thousand remembrances, in a thousand incidents, events, associations. They speak to us, not only from their silent graves, but from the throng of life. Though they are invisible, yet life is filled with their presence. They are with us, by the silent fireside and in the secluded chamber: they are with us in the paths of society, and in the crowded assembly of men. They speak to us from the lonely way-side, and they speak to us, from the venerable walls that echo to the steps of a multitude, and to the voice of prayer. Go where we will, the dead are with us. We live, we converse, with those, who once lived and conversed, with us. Their well remembered tone mingles with the whispering breezes, with the sound of the falling leaf, with the jubilee shout of the spring-time. The earth is filled with their shadowy train.

       But there are more substantial expressions of the presence of the dead with the living. The earth is filled with labors, the works, of the dead. Almost all the literature in the world, the discoveries of science, the glories of art, the ever-during temples, the dwelling-places of generations, the comforts and improvements of life, the languages, the maxims, the opinions, of the living, the very frame-work of society, the institutions of nations, the fabrics of empires‚ -all are the works of the dead; by these, they who are dead yet speak. Life-busy, eager, craving, importunate, absorbing life-yet what is its sphere,  compared with the empire of death! What, in other words, is the sphere of visible, compared with the mighty empire of invisible life! They live-they live indeed, whom we call dead. They live in our thoughts; they live in our blessings; they live in our life; -death hath no power over them." Rev. Orville Dewey, D. D.

"O LORD, You have brought up my soul from Sheol; You have kept my alive,
that I would not go down to the pit." Psalm 30:3

Death Overcome

        Where faith in Jesus raises a dying man above the sufferings of nature, and a sinful man above the terrors of guilt, illuminating the closing scene with the hopes and very light of approaching glory, this close of life is the grandest of sunsets. Nowhere, does religion look so magnificent as amid such scenes. And never does she seem so triumphant as when, with her fingers closing the filmy eyes, she contemplates the peaceful corpse; and bending down to take one fond kiss of pallid lips, or marble brow, rises, and raises her hands to heaven, exclaims, Blessed are the dead! The battle done; the victory won; rest, warrior! workman! pilgrim!-rest! "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord; for they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them." Rev. Dr. Guthrie.

Posted by City Church San Francisco.

The Spirit Survives in It's Completeness

        Brethren, observe, that man's spirit cannot be resolved like his body into form and material, the former perishing while the latter survives. Man's spirit either exists in its completeness, or it ceases to exist. The bodily form of William the Conqueror has long dissolved into dust. The material atoms which made up the body of William the Conqueror during his lifetime exist somewhere now beneath the pavement of the great church at Caen; but if the memory and the conscience and the will of the Conqueror have perished, then his spirit has ceased to be. There is no substratum below or beyond these which could perpetuate existence; there is nothing spiritual to survive them, for the soul of man‚ your soul and mine‚ knows itself to be an indivisible whole - something which cannot be broken into parts, and enter into unison with other souls - with other minds. Each of us is himself. Each can become no other. My memory, my affections, my way of thinking and feeling are all my own; they are not transferable. If they perish they perish all together. There are no atoms to survive them which can be worked into another spiritual existence; and thus the extinction of an animal or a vegetable is only the extinction of that particular combination of matter - not of the matter itself; but the extinction of a soul, if the thing were possible, would be the total extinction of all that made it to be what it ever was. In the physical world, destruction and death are only changes. In the spiritual world, the only possible analogous process would mean annihilation. And, therefore, it is a reasonable and a very strong presumption that spirit is not, in fact, placed at this enormous disadvantage when compared with matter, and that, if matter survives the dissolution of organic forms, much more must spirit survive the dissolution of the material forms with which it has been for a while associated.

Passing of life . . . 

And this is life - to-day we here abide,
Perchance to-morrow we must step aside,
We master not our own; no vain regret
Can change the path for us which God has
set.
Then let our footsteps be toward the light,
With loving words and deeds make each day
bright.
Let charity progress to wider plan.
Lend gracious ear to creed of every man. 

S. D. Gardner.

"Good Morrow'' coloring page and poem

Description of Coloring Page: crocus frame and poem, text by Harriet Joor

"Awake!" the yellow Crocus Cries!
"Open wide your sleepy eyes!
For little Children, as for Flowers,
The Day unfolds it's shining Hours.
Awake to laugh - to work - to play -
Be good and glad the whole bright Day:
Then close your eyes up very tight
And sleep through all the cool dark night."

• Now paint your little eggs in many shades from blue to brown . . .
  

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.

Graceful Servants

 Graceful Servants by Betty Chapman Benhum

Knives and forks should always be
Well behaved for you and me.
Up on end they should not stand,
Nor go sailing in one's hand.
Knives are made to cut the meat,
Forks are meant to help one eat.
They are servants, bright and ready,
They'll obey if one is steady,
Always with  their peasant graces.
Always in their proper places.

When Easters Were Spent at Grandmother's House

        My grandmother's house on Easter Sunday was a wonderful place to be. It always seemed to us, her grandchildren, that the world began over again on that day. There was a newness and freshness about everything, from the first moment we opened our eyes to see our crisp, starched petticoats laid out, until the day was over and we put our Easter bonnets away in tissue paper.

The ''nest'' is symbolic for the home or a 
place of safe keeping.

       The details of her house and the way she lived in it are as clear today as they were 25 years ago. In all the years I have never found another home which seemed to emanate so many of the good things of life.

       By Easter Sunday the spring house cleaning was finished. And in New England that means that it was so well done that the place looked newborn. Window panes glistened, brass and copper shone, floors and woodwork were spic and span. On top of all this summer "dust covers" crackling with starch had been placed on every upholstered piece of furniture. Cross-bar dimity and ruffled marquisette bristled at every window with a cleanliness which was invigorating whether the sun shone or not.

       We arrived at the breakfast table in our Easter best. All of this had been laid out the night before, in perfect condition, for the start of church next day. Any one of us who had neglected to sew a button or mend a pocket on Saturday went to church unsewed and unmended, for grandmother's sewing basket went into the closet on Saturday evening and did not reappear until Monday for any emergency. The beautiful, well-planned order of it all is a happy memory after many years.

       We left the house, properly shod, coated and hatted, begloved and behankied, with a wonderful sense of well being. The older ones carried the Bibles they had acquired on previous Easters, the middle-sized ones would get theirs today, and the tiny ones would come home with a brightly blooming geranium, which meant they hadn't missed Sunday school all season. We came back to the house to find it full of wonderful odors. Returning to this house was always a joy. It was a refuge and peaceful haven always.

       On Easter afternoon, when grandmother had had her nap we all went for a walk. We called on the old ladies and gentlemen who were unable to get out in the sun for one reason or another. We brought sugar cookies which grandmother had made the day before, and tiny pots with three or four crocuses which she had started in the cellar months earlier. Year after year she went through the same rite. With 16 grandchildren it was never necessary that she make her Easter parade alone, for as the older ones became too self-conscious with this old-fashioned nonsense, the little ones were enchanted to be permitted to go.

       This type of home, all the activities which went on in it and the good things which came from it, we now understand better than ever. Simple, unassuming and well ordered, based on the fundamental needs of ordinary people, it has come into its own once again.  by Emily Post

• Tiffany O'Brien, The MOST Enthusiastic Homemaker
• How Do I? Talking about Etiquette, 19th Edition

Build a March Hare Toy for A Tot

 THE MARCH HARE by Harold Evans Kellogg

       The figure of the hare, the baseboard, and the wheels are made of half-inch box lumber. It will be necessary for woodworkers to enlarge the elements to scale using either a software program or graph paper before cutting templates.
       With a pencil mark around the figure of the hare, then cut it out with a scroll saw. Be sure to leave the piece of board between the under side of the hare and the straight line.
       The baseboard is 6 1/2 inches long and 3 inches wide. Mark it out with a ruler and a try-square and cut it out with an ordinary saw.
       Make the two wheels by marking with a pencil around a tea cup and then sawing them out with a scroll saw.
       The handle is made of soft wood. It is 3/8 inch square and 16 inches long. A portion 3 inch deep and 2 inches long is cut from one end, as shown in the diagram. The four edges of the handle may be planed, or filed partly round if desired. All pieces should be filed and sandpapered before they are joined.
       Attach the handle and the figure of the hare to the baseboard from the under side, using either small nails or screws. Make a hole about 1/8th inch in diameter in the exact center of each wheel, using either a drill. Then attach the wheels to the baseboard with large-headed nails or screws, leaving them just loose enough to turn easily.
       To decorate the toy you will need a tube of white and a tube of black oil paint, some turpentine to thin the paint, and two small brushes. Paint the handle, the wheels, and the figure of the hare white. Allow the paint to dry for one day. Then apply another coat of white paint to the same portions, and allow it to dry for a day.
       Using a piece of carbon paper, transfer to the figure of the hare the lines representing the ears, eyes, feet, and other markings. With a fine-pointed brush go over these lines very carefully, using the black oil
paint. Now apply the black paint to the baseboard and to the portion between the baseboard and the under part of the hare. Wee Wisdom, 1926

More March Hares:

• All About Cottontail Rabbits
• The White Rabbits by Edith Campbell
• Craft a Rabbit Ring Toss Game

Froggy

Froggy by F. E. Valetta

Every froggy every spring,

Every eve must shrilly sing;

Froggy, froggy, chirp your 

fill.

We'll all listen - sure we

will.

Froggy, froggy, don't you

know,

Old Jack Frost will nip a toe

If you don't keep in your

nose

While old Jackie's north

wind blows?

Froggy, froggy, bide a wee,

Till greening sward and 

budding tree

And April's warm, life-giving

rain

Make your coming safe 

again.

The Easter Promenade

 

 

Easter Promenade
It's Easter in Washington, late though it comes,
So blare on the trumpets and beat on the drums,
And pin on the orchids so fragile and scentless,
The Easter paraders will move on relentless.
Three hundred and sixty-four days we've been striding
Because of an A card that won't permit riding,
But prop up our feet today? We will have none of it!
Easter's for walking-and just for the fun of it!
Forego that long hike and stay home to put soup on?
Conserve precious leather and 17 coupon?
Ah, no, let us join the Sunday morn marches.
Up with the chins, girls, and down with the arches.
On with the dress with the frou-frou upon it
On with the maddest of mad Easter bonnets.
Add all the touches to prove that we know style,
Watch for the cameraman-give him the profile.
For it's Easter in Washington-on with the strolling.
It's for the pedestrians bells will be tolling.
H.V.

At Easter

At Easter by Kate A. Bradley

I wonder if the anguished moon looked
down
Through all that long last night
And buried in her scarred breast, lean and
brown,
The memory of that sight!
I wonder of th' uneasy birds awoke
As glowed that strange, great light
Which paled the purple east where morn-
ing broke.
And sang, inspired by God's own breath,
"There is no death! There is no death!" 

There is no death, O hearts that throb in

vain

With longing, pulsing tide,

Or in love's fullness, nigh akin to pain,

Unfearing abide;

There is no death, O soul whom niggard

fate

Has left unsatisfied.

The cycles swing and joy those lips await

Who oft have sung on earth in pain,

"I rise again! I rise again!"

No sacrifice, O Self, can blot thee out,

Or satisfy the debt

Which binds thee to the usurer of doubt

With interest of regret!

Still is not life to even thee denied:

One way remaineth yet-

As was thy Christ, must thou be crucified.

But with those wounds in hands and feet,

E'en Self finds resurrection sweet!

Rejoice, O soul whose work is just begun,

That all time lies before!

Rejoice, O heart whose treasure all have

won

That dimmer, farther shore!

The stone that angels moved away that

night

Was rolled from Heaven's door;

Awake and stand forth in hope's sudden

 light,

And sing as sang the birds that morn:

"There is no death, for Life is born!"

The Risen Life

        Easter is a season of joy and flowers-let it be also a time for spiritual awakening and the growth of faiths; it is a season when joyful chorals are sung on every hand - let it be also marked by generous charities and Christ-like ministries to those who now sit in the shadow of death, or who pine in the desserts of a religionless experience. Resurrection should not all of it be postponed until the last day - much of it may take place on earth in redeemed hearts and evangelized society. It should be remembered that the Lord is even now by his spirit converting hearts to the likeness of a higher life. Resurrection thus becomes a continual process, consummated at last in the skies, where it reaches the plane of a perfect life. The Lord, if we believe and are faithful, will perfect that which concerneth us. 

"Why Come Ye At Break of Morning?"