THE DOVE'S VISIT
I knew a little, sickly child.
The long, long summer's day.
When all the world was green and bright,
Alone in bed to lay;
There used to come a little dove
Before his window small,
And sing to him with her sweet voice,
Out of the fir-tree tall.
And when the sick child better grew,
And he could creep along,
Close to that window he would come,
And listen to her song.
He was so gentle in his speech,
And quiet at his play,
He would not, for the world, have made,
That sweet bird fly away.
There is a Holy Dove that sings
To every listening child, -
That whispers to his little heart
A song more sweet and mild.
It is the Spirit of our God
That speaks of him within;
That leads him to all things good,
And holds him back from sin.
And he must hear that "still, small voice
Nor tempt it to depart, -
The Spirit, great and wonderful,
That whispers in his heart.
He must be pure, and good, and true;
Must strive, and watch, and pray;
For unresisted sin, at last,
May drive that Dove away.
Thursday, February 24, 2022
The Dove's Visit
Dust
“in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the
ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust
shalt thou return." Genesis. 3:19
The Bible tells us very plainly that our bodies are made of dust. God made man out of the dust of the earth and breathed into him the breath of life. We do not like to think we are made out of dust. We like to think we are made out of sunshine and rainbows, and if there is any dust about us, it must be golden star dust.
I heard once of a dear old Scotchwoman who had always refused to have her picture taken. Many old ladies, you know, are stubborn, especially Scotch old ladies. Her family, however, urged her to have her photograph taken so they could send it to one of her sons who lived in America, and she consented. When the first proof was received she looked at it long and silently and then without a word set out for the studio. “Is that me?” she said to the photographer. “Yes, madam,” he said. “And is it like me?” she added. “Yes, madam, it is a speaking likeness.” Then said the old Scotch woman, “Well, if that's so, it’s a humbling sight.”
We laugh at the dear old lady, for we know she was wrong, for there is nothing lovelier in the world than just a fine, sweet, thought-ennobled face of a mother or a grandmother.
And what a wonderful thing dust is! It is alive with mystery before which wise men dream and wonder. To a wise man who knows, “the very dust is dear.” It is a living thing, and out of it the world has been made, and scientists tell us that we owe our beautiful sunsets and our refreshing rain to the dust that floats in the upper air.
We are apt to think the only value dust has is to make work, but it is not so. Dust is useful. A great scientist once wrote a book which he called “The Wonderful Century.” The Wonderful Century was of course the nineteenth century which includes all the years between 1800 and 1900. In this book he wrote about some of the marvelous things discovered during those years and one of the chapters is about Dust, and among other things he said, “It is doubtful whether we could even live without dust. To the presence of dust we owe the clouds, the mists, the rains.” If it were not for the dust instead of soft showers and refreshing rains we would have water spouts and terrible torrents. It all seems strange, but true things are often strange, and sometimes little things are really big things.
A great man by the name of John Ruskin once took a handful of mud from the road of a great city. It was just a handful of dirty dust moistened with water. This wise man then divided the mud into four parts, clay, soot, sand, and water. Then he told the people who were listening to him that if the clay were left alone for thousands or millions of years it would, under certain conditions, become a beautiful sapphire. The sand, he said, in the same strange way would be changed into a precious opal. The soot, the blackest of things, would in time become a brilliant diamond and the water could easily be changed into a pearly dewdrop or a snow crystal.
God can change the meanest thing into a priceless gem, and He can so transform us that we can become like Him. We are made of the dust of the field but we are also made in the image of God.
“Life is real; life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal!
‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest
Was not spoken of the soul.”
The Apostle John said: “Beloved, now are we children of God, and it is not yet manifest what we shall be. We know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him; for we shall see him even as he is.” Kerr
Spiritual Blessings
SPIRITUAL BLESSINGS
Almighty Father! Thou hast many blessings
In store for every loving child of Thine;
For this I pray, - Let me, Thy grace possessing,
Seek to be guided by Thy will divine.
Not for earth's treasures, - for her joys the dearest,
Would I my supplications raise to Thee;
Not for the hopes that to my heart are nearest,
But only that I give that heart to Thee.
I pray that Thou wouldst guide and guard me ever;
Cleanse, by Thy power, from every stain of sin;
I will Thy blessing ask on each endeavor.
And thus Thy promised peace my soul shall win.
"Thou, God, Seest Me."
"THOU, GOD, SEEST ME."
Thine eye is on me always.
Thou knowest the way I take;
Thou seest me when I'm sleeping,
Thou seest me when I wake.
Thine arm is round about me,
Thy hand is underneath
Thy love will still preserve me,
If I Thy laws do keep.
Thou art my present helper, -
Be Thou my daily guide;
Then I'll be safe for eve,
Whatever may betide.
Oh ! help me, dearest Father,
To walk in wisdom's way,
That I, Thy loving child, may be
Through every future day.
And, by my loving actions, prove
That He who guardeth me is Love.
They brought sacrifices to God...
Thanksgiving
THANKSGIVING
There's not a leaf within the bower, -
There's not a bird upon the tree, -
There's not a dewdrop on the flower, -
But bears the impress. Lord, of Thee.
Thy power the varied leaf designed,
And gave the bird its thrilling tone;
Thy hand the dewdrops' tints combined,
Till like a diamond's blaze they shone.
Yes, dewdrops, leaves and buds, and all, -
The smallest, like the greatest things, -
The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball,
Alike proclaim Thee, King of kings!
But man alone, to bounteous Heaven,
Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise:
To favored man, alone, 'tis given.
To join the angelic choir in praise.
Be Kind to The Poor
BE KIND TO THE POOR
Turn not from him, who asks of thee
A portion of thy store;
Poor though in earthly goods thou be,
Thou yet canst give, - what's more,
The balm of comfort thou canst pour
Into his grieving mind,
Who oft is turned from wealth's proud door,
With many a word unkind.
Does any from the false world find
Naught but reproach and scorn?
Does any, stung by words unkind,
Wish that he ne'er was born?
Do thou raise up his drooping heart.
Restore his wounded mind;
Though naught of wealth thou canst impart,
Yet still thou mayest be kind.
And oft again thy words shall wing
Backward their course to thee,
And in thy breast will prove a spring
Of pure felicity.
The Lesson of The Leaves
THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES
How do the leaves grow,
In spring, upon their stems?
Oh! the sap swells up with a drop for all,
And that is life to them.
What do the leaves do
Through the long summer hours,
They make a home for the wandering birds,
And shelter the wild flowers.
How do the leaves fade
Beneath the autumn blast?
Oh! they fairer grow before they die,
Their brightest is their last.
We, too, are like leaves,
children! weak and small;
God knows each leaf of the forest shade:
He knows us, each and all.
Never a leaf falls
Until its part is done;
God gives us grace, like sap, and then
Some work to every one.
We, too, must grow old,
Beneath the autumn sky;
But lovelier and brighter our lives may grow
Like leaves before they die.
Brighter with kind deeds,
With love to others given;
Till the leaf falls off from the autumn tree,
And the spirit is in heaven.
Color Joseph asking his brother's for proof
Morning
MORNING
Dear Lord, another day has come.
And through the hours of night,
In a good bed and quiet home
I've slept till morning light.
Then let me give Thee thanks and praise,
For Thou art very good;
Oh, teach my little heart to raise
The prayer that children should.
Keep me this day from faults and sin,
And make me good and mild;
Thy Holy Spirit place within,
Grant grace unto a child.
Help me obey my parents dear,
For they are very kind;
And when the hour of rest draws near,
Another prayer I'll find.
The Orphan's Hymn
THE ORPHAN'S HYMN
Father, - an orphan's prayer receive,
And listen to my plaintive cry:
Thou only canst my wants relieve,
Who art my Father in the sky.
I have no father here below,
No mother kind to wipe my tears, -
These tender names I never know,
To soothe my grief and quell my fears.
But Thou wilt be my parent, - nigh
In every hour of deep distress,
And listen to an orphan's sigh,
And soothe the anguish of my breast.
For Thou hast promised all I need,
More than a father's, mother's care:
Thou wilt the hungry orphan feed,
And always listen to my prayer.
Color Moses as he carries the law...
