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Post by Deleted on May 12, 2010 7:46:36 GMT -6
" I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive" (Acts 20:35) CHRISTMAS GIFTS
By Mr. and Mrs. Howard Nicholson
Upon that day when JESUS came, A tiny babe to earth, There were no gifts from friend to friend To celebrate His birth. But wise men brought their gifts to Him, As wise men always do; For who is there in earth beside To whom such gifts are due? For us He laid His crown aside And stepped down from His throne. Shall we not give our choicest gifts To Him, that Lovely One?
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Post by Deleted on May 13, 2010 7:53:21 GMT -6
" Which sometime were disobedient, when once the longsuffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water" (I Peter 3:20) "AS IT WAS IN THE DAYS OF NOAH"
The threatening shadows gather, and the clouds grow dark And swollen. When they break, only within the ark Will there be safety from the devasting storm, The tempest which will lash the earth with tireless arm As though some dreadful giant were astride the globe, Implacable and pitiless, wrapped in a robe Of wind and fury. When He plies His whip the sea Will flee away, the mountains move, the cities be But bits of flotsam eddying upon the flood, But all who will may enter in the ark, and God Himself, with His own tender hand will shut the door; And they will dwell within it, save forevermore.
Why should we fear the gathering shadows, you and I? "Lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh!"
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2010 8:28:49 GMT -6
" that where I am, there ye may be also" (John 14:3) THE HEART OF HOME
It isn't the house that makes it home, but the people living there, The dear ones who daily walk with us, And our joys and sorrows share.
To the traveler who returns, the lights Of home are a beckoning star; And his heart leaps up with joy at a glimpse Of those who await him there.
A house is but wall and roof and floor, But the heart of the home is love. As it is on earth, so must it be In those palaces up above.
The mansion He built for me is tall, And as fair as fair can be; But it isn't the house for which I'll strain My longing eyes - it is HE!
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Post by Deleted on May 15, 2010 7:15:59 GMT -6
" As thou goest, thy way shall be opened up step by step before thee" (Proverbs 4:12 - Hebrew version) CLOSED DOORS
Closed doors and darkened pathways! Sometimes they seem to me The history of my lifetime. Scarcely could I see
My outstretched hands before me; Upon my path there shone No light to guide my footsteps; No lamp to lead me on.
And then I prayed, and always He opened wide some door! Shall I not leave my future With Him forevermore?
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2010 7:09:40 GMT -6
" Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory" (I Peter 1:8) FACE TO FACE
I had a friend whose face I had not seen, Although I knew her heart, for we had been Exchanging letters for so many years. She told me all her joys and hopes and fears,
And I told mine, and so we felt that we Were just as close an any friends could be. And then one day my friend came through the door! And I have learned that there was something more
I had not known about her - how her face lights up, a certain dignity and grace, Her quick responsiveness, her tender smile, Though tears were shining in her eyes the while,
Her sensitiveness - this I understand Since I have felt her touch upon my hand. I find that I had never dreamed nor guessed How much of soul and spirit is expressed.
By this strange envelope of flesh we wear, So will it be when I am standing there Before the throne of Him I love so much, It may be I shall never feel His touch,
Lest I should swoon before His very feet; But through my blinding tears my eyes shall meet My SAVIOUR's eyes - deep wells of tenderness Which court my heart and all my soul possess.
And I shall hear His voice, as of a bell; And listening, its every tone will tell The glory of His love; and I shall see Those scars which He will bear eternally.
And written there upon His lovely face, In plainest print, the story of His grace Which was so dear within His written Word, But now, the living Word Himself, the Lord!
O ye who wait with longing hearts, shall not the Bride, When she beholds her Bridegroom's face, be satisfied?
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2010 7:08:19 GMT -6
" And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one" (John 10:28-30) DWELLING PLACE
There is a swelling surge of joy which lifts And stirs my spirit every time I meet Friends who inquire, "Where are you living now?" Though I reply, "On such and such a street."
Yet all the while this singing soul of mine Carols the words they might not understand, "I live within the center of God's heart, And in the hollow of His tender hand."
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Post by Deleted on May 18, 2010 7:42:08 GMT -6
" Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me" (Revelation 3:20) BEHOLD, I STAND AND KNOCK
God pity all abroad tonight! The sodden moor lies spent Beneath the fury of the storm; The angry skies are rent
With ragged flashes. My poor hut, Too chill and dark and small To shelter even one lost lamb, But comes a knock, a call.
"Behold, I stand without and knock. But open unto Me, And I will come and sup with you, And your companion be."
I looked around. There scarce was room For me, and surely none For guest (O heart, suppose I had Denied that Lovely One!)
He entered in. He dwells with me. I do not heed life's storms; I need but turn and cling to Him Who reassures and warms.
And all the rooms of this my heart Are wide and warm and bright, A banquet hall where I may sup With Him, my Lord, my Light!
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2010 6:57:08 GMT -6
" For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now" (Romans 8:22) A CRY GOES UP
There's a cry goes up to the ears of God From the bleeding earth and the broken sod;
From the battlefields and the long long rows Of graves where the reddened poppy grows;
From suffering bodies on beds of pain, From eyes which will never see again;
From the scattered children of Lidice, From troopships buried beneath the sea.
There's a widow's wail, and the hungry cry Of the child that was only born to die
In a world where famine stalks the land, And pestilence strikes with a sudden hand.
There are broken homes and broken dreams, And broken hearts. Dear Lord, it seems
That the broken sob of a broken man Has come up to Thee since the earth began!
When wilt Thou come from the opened sky To heal the broken and still their cry?
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Post by Deleted on May 20, 2010 7:19:04 GMT -6
" Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord; for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ" (Philippians3:8) TREASURES
One by one He took them from me, All the things I valued most, Until I was empty-handed; Every glittering toy was lost.
And I walked earth's highways, grieving, In my rags and poverty, Till I heard His voice inviting, "Lift you empty hands to Me!"
So I held my hands toward heaven, and He filled them with a store Of His own transcendent riches, Till they could contain no more.
And at last I comprehended With my stupid mind and dull, That God COULD not pour His riches Into hands already full!
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2010 9:03:05 GMT -6
THE DIFFERENCE
I need not bear my little cross alone, I draw upon the riches of His grace; But when my SAVIOUR hung upon HIS Cross In agony, God turned away His face!
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2010 6:30:19 GMT -6
ADAM, WHERE ART THOU?
"Adam, where art thou?" Thus again, again The voice of God is calling Unto sinful men.
Adam in a garden Long and long ago, His himself, affrighted, Lest the Lord should know
He was naked, guilty - Sin's stamp on his brow, Then God's voice came calling, "Adam, where art thou?
Would the Lord forsake him, Wandering and lost? Oh, the love which sought him, Counting not the cost!
Since, through long dark ages, Man has fled from God, Fled as from a tyrant With a whip and rod.
Yet His voice is calling "Come thou unto Me, For behold, I offer Pardon Full and free!"
Let Him find thee, save thee. Listen to Him now; Still His voice is calling, "Adam, where art thou?"
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2010 6:54:50 GMT -6
THERE IS GLORY HERE (ARTICLE)
We boys and girls used to gather about the parlor organ in our old-fashioned sitting room and sing the Glory Song. How we loved it! All stops were pulled out, vocal as well as instrumental, and the room rocked with the sound, "That will be glory, be glory for me."
It seemed sometimes as though the roof would fly off and Heaven's glory would come pouring down. How wistfully we looked ahead into a far-off future when this glory would be ours.
The poet would have it that we are born into this world trailing clouds of glory; but we who are His know that we have no such inheritance until we are born into the family of God through Christ JESUS our Lord. Then we are joint heirs with Him of all the glory which is His.
Too many of us will gaze wistfully into the future when we shall possess this glory; but if we look in our concordances we might be surprised to see the number of times the glory of God is mentioned as being here on earth.
When I was a little girl, we children decided to have a treasure hunt. The idea was that people must naturally lose many things on the streets, so we would go out and find them. We searched for blocks around but all we found was a stone containing a shining bit of mica, and a tin star from a plug of tobacco. The others were disgusted but I was quite satisfied. To me the star had but lately fallen from Heaven and there was gold in the stone. Years afterward I smiled a little ruefully as I found them among some childhood treasures. But was I mistaken? Do not the stars sometimes come down to earth, and is there not gold in our stones?
There is glory in this little room where I live in the inexorable grip of arthritis. Wherever there is God there is glory, and God is here. There is glory and beauty and transcendant splendor within these four walls, and sometimes a burning flame of joy.
And this is the heritage of every Christian, to see that there is no commonplace, to be always "aware of the splendor that ties all the things of the earth to the things of the skies."
This is not a special gift and perception which God has given to some chosen few. It comes through prayer and meditation, and the reading of the Word, and just opening the heart to God.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2010 6:59:01 GMT -6
Think of the glory and beauty of the physical world - a dewdrop on a blade of grass, the shadow of a leaf, the petal of a flower, the surge of the tide, the way of the wind. The heavens declare the glory of God. "His dwelling is the light of setting suns and the found ocean and the living air, and in the mid of man."
Surely there is something wrong in the life of the Christian who lives a drab, monotonous, colorless life; who shuts his eyes to what is within reach of his hands and goes in rags when he might wear a princely robe; who starves when there is a banquet spread before him, and plods when he might soar to the stars.
Think of the wonder of having a guardian angel. If our ears were but attuned, we could hear the rustle of their wings always about us. Angels for servants! What a glory! - to walk daily, hourly, with wings arching over us.
But that is a mere nothing. We come now to the glory of relationship, not with the servants of God, but with almighty God Himself - of almighty God, who being a spirit yet came to earth to be compassed in a human body and born of a virgin. Oh the unsearchable riches of the grace of Him who died for us! The glory of the plan of redemption, of the Cross of Christ towering o'er the wrecks of time, its radiance undimmed down through the ages. The wonder and glory of having a personal relationship with Him, of being always safe and protected, of being adopted into the family of God so that we might, like children, cry "Abba, FATHER." Children of God, every least want met, all grace abounding towards us beyond our deepest needs - even those of which we know nothing. Children of a KING, privileged to wear His own garments, the very robe of righteousness. Children of God with the sweet certainty that no faintest cry for help will go unheard or unheeded.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2010 7:02:20 GMT -6
When we try to speak of the glory of our riches in Christ, we are dumb, and helpless. I find that my tongue and my pen falter, and there is no vocabulary for what I would say. His riches my riches; joint heir with Christ; all that is His is mine. My enraptured spirit almost leaves my tormented body to wander in vast far spaces of beauty and wonder and splendor, at which I dare not look. I dare not speak of them - I must wait until we are in Heaven.
But consider the glory of prayer; of the rent vail. That is glory enough to keep us on our knees. When He saved us, He COULD have left us down here with no means of communication open between us, no chance to speak into His ear until we came at last to live with Him.
But when that veil was rent in sunder by the death of our Lord, it gave us access to the very HOLY of Holies. We can talk to Him and with Him as simply as a child to an earthly father - and yet He is almighty God. Distance means nothing; our own infirmities mean nothing. When we know not how to speak for ourselves, He has given us an Interpreter who takes our poor feeble prayers and makes them all that they ought to be before they are presented before the throne. Ponder long and often on the glory of prayer.
Would it seem to you a wonderful thing if you, a weak, feeble, faulty individual yet had it in your power to help do something which would cause the very angels in Heaven to rejoice? That very glory may be yours. To God, Who does everything perfectly, it might seem that even our best efforts were so fumbling and so faulty as to be futile; but see His tender condescension and understanding. He said that inasmuch as we have done it unto one of the least of these, we have done it unto Him.
There is a personal, secret glory and joy which I hide in my heart. We are so human and it is only natural for the flesh to shrink from dissolution, even though the spirit longs to be away. Most of us dread the process the dying. I did for years. Now I know that precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints, and that WHEN the time comes that I need it - not before - He will give me dying grace and I shall find that dying was not hard at all.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2010 7:04:00 GMT -6
And now here is another one of those matchless glories which I cannot touch, and can only approach on my knees. It is the glory of the indwelling Christ. He who has ivory palaces would condescend to dwell within my heart's small and unlovely house - He in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge! In a strange sense my feet are His feet, my hands His hands. I cannot even faintly comprehend it - can only bow and worship Him.
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord," and having seen, life is forever changed. Whoso hath this hope in him purifieth himself. Could the mind of man ever have imagined an event so amazing, so packed with glory and joy - and think God, so imminent - as this blessed hope of ours? What matters this little trial of today - it will be forgotten. This torturing pain will be forever gone. This perplexing problem will be solved in the light of His countenance. These tears of grief and bereavement shall be wiped away by God Himself. This discontent and discouragement, this weakness and failure . . . we shall be like HIM.
As yes, there is glory here; there is greater glory just around the corner; and yet to come, ours through the eternal ages, is that greatest glory - that of being sons of God, who have come at last into the fullness of their inheritance. . . . There is no lack of glory here - there is only lack of awareness. Indeed, we are compassed with glory, we are filled with it; it is over our heads and round about us.
With the glory of His coming to the immediate future, surely its rays must flash around the corner to illumine our path. Splendor dips down to earth; the heavens are verily dripping glory; the stars in their courses are singing of it.
O golden tides of living glory, sweep over these parched, shriveled, arid souls of ours, submerging them, saturating them, permeating them until, though the tides recede, we still glow with the reflected radiance of Him who is the Bright and Morning Star, the fairest of ten thousand to our souls!
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2010 7:17:40 GMT -6
PRAYER
Prayer is not a monologue. It is, or ought to be, A dialogue, a quiet talk Between my Lord and me.
After prayer and praise and pleas Should I then cease and rise, Or waiting there upon my knees, Listen for His replies?
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2010 7:00:25 GMT -6
TENTH ANNIVERSARY
For ten years you have laboured here, Labored for the Lord; Then years' tending of His flock, Giving out His Word;
Ten years' planting seed for Him, Watered oft with tears; Ten years' trusting Him to reap The harvest of your years.
A bit more silver in your hair, Perhaps your step more slow; Sometimes a creaking in your joints As on your rounds you go:
But always looking up to Him, That perfect, Lovely One, For Whom our longing hearts cry out - Christ JESUS, God's dear Son!
And so we gather here tonight To tell you of our love, Communion of the saints, foretaste Of fellowship above.
God keep you both, God guide your steps; God make you wise and sweet; God give you many crowns to lay Before our dear Lord's feet!
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2010 7:03:09 GMT -6
" I am the life" (John 14:6) IN A HOSPITAL WARD
Long rows of beds. In each a body wracked With pain. Pale faces drawn with anguish or Grown dull with apathy and weariness. The smell of disintectants and the smoke Of cigarettes held loosly in the lips Of women soon to bring a child into the world, Old mothers, with white hair, about To leave this world the young are entering, One with sweet face and snowy, fluffy hair Lies all unconscious on her narrow bed; Her husband, gray and bent, stands over her In helpless, baffled grief. It seems to me That surely she must rouse and comfort him As she has done so many times before.
The daily round goes on: the baths, the trays,, The trips to surgery or x-ray room. Sometimes we talk, a desultory chat Of crochet patterns or of recipes, Or oftener about the ones at home; And sometimes sudden laughter running like Quicksilver down the room. We women who Were strangers often feel our hearts draw close With talk about "my boy," "my little girl," "see what my husband brought to me last night," The common ties of common womanhood.
Long rows of beds. In each a soul, blood-bought. Beside my own bed, on a standard rests A jar of ruby blood; and through a tube And hollow needle, run the precious drops Into a vein of my thin arm, to bring Life-giving strength to me. I do not know Whose blood it is - I wrote a check for it. But lying there, I think of One who GAVE His precious blood for me, and with the blood He gives me life eternal, and a home Beyond the farthest stars where I shall be Forever with my blessed Lord and KING.
He fills my hands with treasures, and my heart With joy unspeakable, and glory such As feeble tongue cannot describe. He gives Me angels to watch over me; He gives His robe of righteousness for me to wear; And all the riches that are His are mine, Because I am joint heir with Christ the Lord. And I look down the long, long rows of beds And yearn to share my treasures with them all.
Long rows of beds. Through dragging hours of night Sleep will not come to me, for I must pray. O JESUS Christ, Thy passion and Thy pain Are throbbing in this quiet moonlit room! Thy blood was shed for every sleeper here; Thy love broods over them. I see Thee pass From bed to bed with outstretched hands, I hear Thy voice, "Come unto Me, and I will give You rest." And yet again, "I am the way, The truth, the life." And yet they sleep, these whom The wings of death has brushed. I dimly see Whites faces on the pillows, and my heart Is torn with grief because they do not know That heavenly Visitor; and with the morn They will awaken, unaware that He Was here, not see His footprints on the floor, Not hear His voice still lingering on the air.
O great Physician, hear my sobbing prayer, And show me how to make Thy presence known, Thy blessed face grow visible and dear To those who lie in these long rows of beds!
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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2010 7:00:33 GMT -6
" Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The Lord hath done great things for them" (Psalm :2) THE HEART HELD HIGH
God made me a gift of laughter, And a heart held high, Knowing what life would bring me By and by;
Seeing my roses wither One by one; Hearing my life song falter, Scarce begun;
Watching me walk with Sorrow - That is why He made me this gift of laughter, This heart held high!
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Post by Deleted on May 28, 2010 6:38:49 GMT -6
" To him the porter openeth; and the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers" (John 10:3-5) "MY SHEEP HEAR MY VOICE"
He did not say His sheep would see His face; He only promised we
Should hear His voice. How clear His very accent falls! More dear,
More tender voice was never heard Than speaks from out His written Word.
And no least lamb need ever stray From Him who said, "I am the Way."
And so we walk by faith, nor sight, Until some day, with rare delight
And unimagined bliss, by grace Our eyes shall see our Shepherd's face! " My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand" (John 10:27, 28).
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