Saturday, December 18, 2021

"Ye are the Light of the World"

"You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden." Matthew 5:14 NKJV

        An English clergyman relates the following incident: "During a voyage to India I sat one dark evening in my cabin feeling thoroughly unwell, as the sea was rising fast and I was but a poor sailor. Suddenly the cry of 'Man overboard!' made me spring to my feet. I heard a trampling overhead, but resolved not to go on deck, lest I should interfere with the crew in their efforts to save the poor man. 'What can I do?' I asked myself, and instantly unhooking my lamp, I held it near the top of my cabin and close to my bull's-eye window, that its light might shine on the sea, and as near the ship as possible. In a half minute's time I heard the joyful cry 'It's all right; he's safe,' upon which I put my lamp in its place. The next day, however, I was told that my little lamp was the sole means of saving the man's life. It was only by the timely light which shone upon him that the knotted rope could be thrown so as to reach him. 'Let your light so shine.'''

Tuesday, May 18, 2021

The Conquest of Fear...

"Courage consists not in hazarding without fear, but being resolutely minded in a just cause. The brave man is not he who feels no fear, for that were stupid and irrational, but he whose noble soul subdues its fear, and bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." Ferrold.

Friday, April 16, 2021

A Shelter In The Time of Storm

        "I found this hymn in a small paper published in London, called "The Postman." It was said to be a favorite song of the fishermen on the north coast of England, and they were often heard singing it as they approached their harbors in the time of storm. As the hymn was set to a weird minor tune, I decided to compose one that would be more practical, one that could be more easily sung by the people." Sanky

Words by V. J. Charlesworth, Music by Ira D. Sankey

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Waiting

Waiting
by John Burroughs


Serene, I fold my hand and wait,
Nor care for wind, or tide, nor sea;
I rave no more'gainst time or fate,
For lo! mine own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw
The brook that springs in yonder
heights;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delights.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave comes to the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Before Your Boat Sails...

       Turn a moment to Paul's epistle to the Philippians, 4th chapter, 3d verse: "And I entreat thee also, true yoke-fellow, help those women which labored with me in the gospel, with Clement, also, and with my other fellow-laborers whose names are in the book of life." Why, it is not only they themselves who know it, but Paul seemed to know their names are there. He sent them greeting, " whose names are in the book of life." My dear friend, is your name there? It seems to me it is a very sweet thought to think we can have our names there and know it ; that we can send our names on ahead of us, and know it is written in the book of life.

       I had a friend coming back from Europe, some time ago, and she came down with some other Americans from London to Liverpool. On the train down they were talking about the hotel they would stop at. They had got to stay there a day or two before the boat sailed ; and so they all concluded to go to the Northwestern Hotel; but when they reached Liverpool, they found that the hotel was completely tilled, and had been full for days. Every room was taken, and the party started to go out, but this lady did not go with them; and they asked her, ""Why, are you not coming'"' "No," said she; "I am going to stay here." "But how? The hotel is full." "Oh," said she, " I have got a room." " How did you get it?" " I telegraphed on a few days ago for one." Yes; she had alone taken pains to telegraph her name on ahead, and had thus secured her room. That is just what God wants you to do. Send your name on ahead. Have your mansion ready for you when you come to die. D. L. Moody

Saturday, September 8, 2018

Reminiscences of the Past In Heaven

       The reminiscences of the past will be sources of profit and gladness. After a success we look back with joy upon the trials over which we triumphed. After having made a perilous ocean voyage the remembrance brings gladness. Youth and childhood, with their victories and defeats, joys and sorrows, who would wish obliterated from their memories? Man will never be grateful for sin, but will gladly remember that through the grace of God he triumphed over it. The very blackness of the sin will add glory to his victory. It is the rain dropping from the clouds and catching the rays of light  which give hues to the rainbow; so the tears and sorrows of the present life, catching the light from that new heaven and new earth, will add beauty and gladness to the experiences of that day. - Rev. R. S. Storrs, D. D.

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

The Splendor Of Heaven

THE SPLENDOR OF HEAVEN.
REV. F. W. FABER, P. P.
Ah, what is this splendor that beams on me now,
This beautiful sunrise that dawns on my soul, 
While faint and far oft" land and sea lie below,
And under my feet the huge golden clouds roll?

To what mighty king doth this city belong,
With its rich jeweled shrines, and its gardens of flowers,
With its breath of sweet incense, its measures of song.
And the light that is gilding its numberless towers?

See! forth from the gates, like a bridal array,
Come the princes of heaven, how bravely they shine!
'Tis to welcome the stranger, to show me the way,
And to tell me that all I see round me is mine.

There are millions of saints in their ranks and degree
And each with a beauty and crown of his own;
And there, far outnumbering the sands of the seas,
The nine rings of angels encircle the throne.

And oh, if the exiles of earth could but win
One sight of the beauty of Jesus above,
From that hour they -would cease to be able to sin,
And earth would be heaven; for heaven is love.

But words may not tell of the vision of peace,
With its worshipful seeming, its marvelous fires;
Where the soul is at large, where its sorrows all cease,
And the gift has outbidden its boldest desires.

No sickness is here, no bleak, bitter cold,
No hunger, debt, prison, or weariful toil;
No robbers to rifle our treasures of gold,
No rust to corrupt, and no canker to spoil.

My God! and it was but a short hour ago,
That I lay on a bed of unbearable pains;
All was cheerless around me, all weeping and woe;
Now the wailing is changed to angelical strains.

Because I served Thee, were life's pleasures all gone?
Was it gloom, pain, or blood, that won heaven for me?
Oh no! one enjoyment alone could life boast,
And that, dearest Lord ! was my service of Thee.

I had hardly to give; 'twas enough to receive,
Only not to impede the sweet grace from above;
And, this first hour in heaven, I can hardly believe
In so great a reward for so little a love.