Christianity

Commemoration of Johann Sebastian Bach, musician, 1750 Experience makes us see an enormous difference between piety and goodness. read more

Commemoration of Johann Sebastian Bach, musician, 1750 Experience makes us see an enormous difference between piety and goodness. ... Blaise Pascal July 29, 2000 Feast of Mary, Martha & Lazarus, Companions of Our Lord The greatest proof of Christianity for others is not how far a man can logically analyze his reasons for believing, but how far in practice he will stake his life on his belief.

From thine, as then, the healing virtue goes Into our hearts -- that is the Father's plan. From heart to read more

From thine, as then, the healing virtue goes Into our hearts -- that is the Father's plan. From heart to heart it sinks, it steals, it flows, From these that know thee still infecting those. Here is my heart -- from thine, Lord, fill it up, That I may offer it as the holy cup Of thy communion to my every man.

Feast of Lucy, Martyr at Syracuse, 304 Commemoration of Samuel Johnson, Writer, Moralist, 1784 It is by affliction chiefly read more

Feast of Lucy, Martyr at Syracuse, 304 Commemoration of Samuel Johnson, Writer, Moralist, 1784 It is by affliction chiefly that the heart of man is purified, and that the thoughts are fixed on a better state. Prosperity has power to intoxicate the imagination, to fix the mind upon the present scene, to produce confidence and elation, and to make him who enjoys affluence and honors forget the hand by which they were bestowed. It is seldom that we are otherwise than by affliction awakened to a sense of our imbecility, or taught to know how little all our acquisitions can conduce to safety or quiet, and how justly we may inscribe to the superintendence of a higher power those blessings which in the wantonness of success we considered as the attainments of our policy and courage.

Commemoration of Mary Slessor, Missionary in West Africa, 1915 Give me an open ear, O God, that I may hear read more

Commemoration of Mary Slessor, Missionary in West Africa, 1915 Give me an open ear, O God, that I may hear Thy voice calling me to high endeavor. Give me an open mind, O God, a mind ready to receive and to welcome such new light of knowledge as it is Thy will to reveal to me. Give me open eyes, O God, eyes quick to discover Thine indwelling in the world which Thou hast made. Give me open hands, O God, hands ready to share with all who are in want the blessings with which Thou hast enriched my life.

Where every day is not the Lord's, the Sunday is his least of all. There may be a sickening unreality read more

Where every day is not the Lord's, the Sunday is his least of all. There may be a sickening unreality even where there is no conscious hypocrisy.

To the Christian, love is the works of love. To say that love is a feeling or anything of the read more

To the Christian, love is the works of love. To say that love is a feeling or anything of the kind is really an un-Christian conception of love. That is the aesthetic definition and therefore fits the erotic and everything of that nature. But to the Christian, love is the works of love. Christ's love was not an inner feeling, a full heart and what-not: it was the work of love which was his life.

Feast of Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr, c.155 We may search so far, and reason so long of faith read more

Feast of Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr, c.155 We may search so far, and reason so long of faith and grace, as that we may lose not only them, but even our reason too, and sooner become mad than good. Not that we are bound to believe any thing against reason, that is, to believe, we know not why. It is but a slack opinion, it is not Belief, that is not grounded upon Reason. It is true, we have not a Demonstration; not such an Evidence as that one and two are three, to prove these to be Scriptures of God; God hath not proceeded in that manner, to drive our reason into a pound, and to force it by a peremptory necessity to accept these for Scriptures, for then, here had been no exercise of our Will, and our assent, if we could not have resisted.

Feast of Chad, Abbot of Lastingham, Bishop of Lichfield, Missionary, 672 Do those who say, "Lo here, or lo read more

Feast of Chad, Abbot of Lastingham, Bishop of Lichfield, Missionary, 672 Do those who say, "Lo here, or lo there, are the signs of His coming", think to be too keen for Him, and spy His approach? When He tells them to watch lest He find them neglecting their work, they stare this way and that, and watch lest He should succeed in coming like a thief!

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Though natural men, who have induced secondary and figurative consideration, have found read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Though natural men, who have induced secondary and figurative consideration, have found out this... emblematical use of sleep, that it should be a representation of death, God, who wrought and perfected his work, before Nature began, (for Nature was but his Apprentice, to learn in the first seven days, and now is his foreman, and works next under him) God, I say, intended sleep only for the refreshing of man by bodily rest, and not for a figure of death, for he intended not death itself then. But Man having induced death upon himself, God hath taken Man's Creature, death, into his hand, and mended it, and whereas it hath in itself a fearfull form and aspect, so that Man is afraid of his own Creature, God presents it to him, in a familiar, in an assiduous, in an agreeable and acceptable form, in sleep, that so when he awakes from sleep and says to himself, shall I be no otherwise when I am dead, than I was even now, when I was asleep, he may be ashamed of his waking dreams, and of his Melancholique fancying out a horrid and an affrightful figure of that death which is so like sleep. As then we need sleep to live out our threescore and ten years, so we need death, to live that life which we cannot out-live.

Holy Saturday All night had shouts of men and cry Of woeful women filled His way; Until that noon read more

Holy Saturday All night had shouts of men and cry Of woeful women filled His way; Until that noon of sombre sky On Friday, clamour and display Smote Him; no solitude had He. No silence, since Gethsemane. Public was death; but power, but might, But life again, but victory, Were hushed within the dead of night, The shuttered dark, the secrecy. And all alone, alone, alone He rose again behind the stone.