Commemoration of John Mason Neale, Priest, Poet, 1866 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: The day of resurrection! read more

Commemoration of John Mason Neale, Priest, Poet, 1866 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: The day of resurrection! Earth, tell it out abroad; The passover of gladness, The passover of God. From death to life eternal, From this world to the sky, Our Christ hath brought us over With hymns of victory. Our hearts be pure from evil, That we may see aright The Lord in rays eternal Of resurrection light, And, list'ning to His accents, May hear, so calm and plain His own "All hail!" and, hearing, May raise the victor strain. Now let the heav'ns be joyful, Let earth her song begin, Let the round world keep triumph And all that is therein; Invisible and visible, Their notes let all things blend; For Christ the Lord has risen -- Our Joy that has no end.

In the twentieth century, the secularists, still living off the spiritual capital of Christianity, often pretended to chide Christians for read more

In the twentieth century, the secularists, still living off the spiritual capital of Christianity, often pretended to chide Christians for having invented the term "secularist," a term which, they said, was devoid of meaning. Their leaders knew very well, however, that secularism, like any other parasite, derives its sustenance from the object on which it feeds, and so they were rather pleased when milquetoast Christians timidly offered, as a definition of secularism, "living as though God did not exist." What Christians should have called it was, rather, "a contemptibly fraudulent way of living on the cheap, by reaping the maximum fruits of Christian effort, while contributing the minimum effort of your own." When secularists accused Christians of "living in the past," the Christians ought to have retaliated by pointing out that secularists were "living off the past." By the time they got around to doing so, however, the majority of secularists had become morally incapable of seeing the point.

One takes a risk when one invites the Lord Whether to dine, or talk the afternoon Away, for always the read more

One takes a risk when one invites the Lord Whether to dine, or talk the afternoon Away, for always the unexpected soon Turns up: a woman breaks her precious nard, A sinner does the task you should assume, A leper who is cleansed must show his proof: Suddenly you see your very roof remove And a cripple clutters up your living-room. There's no telling what to expect when Christ Walks in the door. The table set for four Must often be enlarged, and decorum Thrown to the winds. It's His voice that calls them, And it's no use to bolt and bar the door: His kingdom knows no bounds of roof, of wall or floor.

Commemoration of Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury, 1099 With us, our denomination is a source of pride: we feel an read more

Commemoration of Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury, 1099 With us, our denomination is a source of pride: we feel an intimate link with our fellow church-member in Fiji, and we think how wonderful it is that we belong to a communion which spans the entire globe. We do not normally reflect that this sense of solidarity is very often gained at the expense of the unity which we ought to be experiencing with our fellow-Christian next door who belongs to a different denomination.

Unless we know the difference between flowers and weeds, we are not fit to take care of a garden. It read more

Unless we know the difference between flowers and weeds, we are not fit to take care of a garden. It is not enough to have truth planted in our minds. We must learn and labor to keep the ground clear of thorns and briars, follies and perversities, which have a wicked propensity to choke the word of life.

The ineffable joy of forgiving and being forgiven forms an ecstasy that might well arouse the envy of the gods.

The ineffable joy of forgiving and being forgiven forms an ecstasy that might well arouse the envy of the gods.

It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.

It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.

Feast of Agnes, Child Martyr at Rome, 304 That is where they meet, the Upper Room, scene of read more

Feast of Agnes, Child Martyr at Rome, 304 That is where they meet, the Upper Room, scene of the Last Supper, scene of the Resurrection appearances when the doors were shut, scene now of their waiting for the Spirit. Whose is it? The clue lies in Acts 12, where St. Peter, strangely freed from Herod's prison, knows at whose house they will be gathered for prayer. He knocks, startles the gate-girl Rhoda. It was "the house of Mary the mother of John whose surname was Mark" -- the young man who was to write the earliest of the gospels. The first meeting place of any Christian congregation was the home of a woman in Jerusalem. Something of the sort happens everywhere. The church in Caesarea centres upon Philip the Evangelist. "Now this man had four daughters, virgins, which did prophesy." ... Joppa church depends on Tabitha, "a woman full of good works and almsdeeds which she did". Follow St. Paul about the Mediterranean. He crosses to Europe because he dreams of a man from Macedonia who cries, "Come over and help us". But when he lands at Philippi it is not a man, but a woman. "Lydia was baptized and her household" -- his first convert in Europe, a woman. Everywhere women are the most notable of the converts, often the only ones who believe. In Thessalonica there are "of the chief women not a few"; Beroea, "Greek women of honourable estate"; Athens, only two names, one of them, Damaris, a woman. At Corinth Priscilla and Aquila come into the story, the pair always mentioned together, and four times out of the six with the wife's name first, a thing undreamed of in the first century. Why? Because she counted for more in church affairs -- hostess of the church in her houses in Corinth, Ephesus and Rome, chief instructress of Apollos the missionary, intimate of the greatest missionary of all, St. Paul. Six times in the Epistles greetings are sent to a house-church, and in five cases the church is linked with a woman's name.

Feast of Charles, King & Martyr, 1649 Salt, when dissolved in water, may disappear, but it does not read more

Feast of Charles, King & Martyr, 1649 Salt, when dissolved in water, may disappear, but it does not cease to exist. We can be sure of its presence by tasting the water. Likewise, the indwelling Christ, though unseen, will be made evident to others from the love which he imparts to us.