Feast of John Keble, Priest, Poet, Tractarian, 1866 The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice, The fettered tongue its chains read more

Feast of John Keble, Priest, Poet, Tractarian, 1866 The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice, The fettered tongue its chains may break; But the deaf heart, the dumb by choice, The laggard soul that will not wake, The guilt that scorns to be forgiven -- These baffle e'en the spells of heaven.

Once you make up your mind never to stand waiting and hesitating when your conscience tells you what you ought read more

Once you make up your mind never to stand waiting and hesitating when your conscience tells you what you ought to do, and you have got the key to every blessing that a sinner can reasonably hope for.

Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand read more

Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on the the lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If I this night before God's throne must stand. "He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, Like Baal, when his prophets holed that name From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height." Nay, peace! I shall behold, before the night, The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, The wounded hands, the weary human face.

Feast of All Saints O Lord! how happy should we be, If we could leave our cares to Thee, read more

Feast of All Saints O Lord! how happy should we be, If we could leave our cares to Thee, If we from self could rest; And feel at heart that One above, In perfect wisdom, perfect love, Is working for the best. For when we kneel and cast our care Upon our God in humble prayer, With strengthened souls we rise, Sure that our Father Who is nigh, To hear the ravens when they cry, Will hear His children's cries. O may these anxious hearts of ours The lesson learn from birds and flowers, And learn from self to cease, Leave all things to our Father's will, And in His mercy trusting still, Find in each trial peace!

Feast of Edmund of the East Angles, Martyr, 870 Commemoration of Priscilla Lydia Sellon, a Restorer of the Religious Life read more

Feast of Edmund of the East Angles, Martyr, 870 Commemoration of Priscilla Lydia Sellon, a Restorer of the Religious Life in the Church of England, 1876 Let the seeking man reach a place where life and lips join to say continually, "Be thou exalted," and a thousand minor problems will be solved at once. His Christian life ceases to be the complicated thing it had been before and becomes the very essence of simplicity.

Feast of the Holy Cross If I am afraid to speak the truth lest I lose affection, or lest read more

Feast of the Holy Cross If I am afraid to speak the truth lest I lose affection, or lest the one concerned should say, "You do not understand", or because I fear to lose my reputation for kindness; if I put my own good name before the other's highest good, then I know nothing of Calvary love. If I am content to heal a hurt slightly, saying peace, peace, where there is no peace; if I forget the poignant words, "Let love be without dissimulation" and blunt the edge of truth, speaking not right things but smooth things, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

I cannot think that God would be content To view unmoved the toiling and the strain, The groaning read more

I cannot think that God would be content To view unmoved the toiling and the strain, The groaning of the ages, sick and spent, The whole creation travailing in pain. The suffering God is no vast cosmic force, That by some blind, unthinking, loveless power Keeps stars and atoms swinging in their course, And reckons naught of men in this grim hour. Nor is the suffering God a fair ideal Engendered in the questioning hearts of men, A figment of the mind to help me steel My soul to rude realities I ken. God suffers with a love that cleanses dross; A God like that, I see upon a cross.

Christianity is not a voice in the wilderness, but a life in the world. It is not an idea in read more

Christianity is not a voice in the wilderness, but a life in the world. It is not an idea in the air but feet on the ground going God's way. It is not an exotic to be kept under glass, but a hardy plant to bear twelve months of fruits in all kinds of weather. Fidelity to duty is its root and branch. Nothing we can say to the Lord, no calling Him by great or dear names, can take the place of the plain doing of His will. We may cry out about the beauty of eating bread with Him in His kingdom, but it is wasted breath and a rootless hope unless we plow and plant in His kingdom here and now. To remember Him at His table and to forget Him at ours, is to have invested in bad securities. There is no substitute for plain, every-day goodness.

O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian and thy loving read more

O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian and thy loving wife!