"The House of Christmas" by G.K. Chesterton

The House of Christmas

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where he was homeless
Are you and I at home:
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost--how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

G.K. Chesterton

Goodbye for now, Elisabeth!

Found this "goodbye" poem by Anna L. Waring (1850) on Elisabeth Elliot's site.  Elisabeth quoted it at the close of her newsletter in 2003, and it has plenty for us to chew on today as we remember her life and legacy and ponder our own:

Father, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me,
And the changes that are sure to come
I do not fear to see;
I ask Thee for a present mind,
Intent on pleasing Thee.


I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do
Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child
And guided where I go.


Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoever estate,
I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate.

---

The Elixer by George Herbert

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things Thee to see,

And what I do in any thing,

To do it as for Thee.

Not rudely, as a beast,

To runne into an action;

But still to make Thee prepossest,

And give it his perfection.

A man that looks on glass, 

On it may stay his eye;

Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,

And then the heav'n espy.

All may of Thee partake:

Nothing can be so mean,

Which with his tincture--"for Thy sake"--

Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine:

Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws,

Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold:

For that which God doth touch and own

Cannot for lesse be told.

Work (by Henry Van Dyke)

Another favorite selection on the topic of work from the Abeka World Lit book, this one from an American Presbyterian minister in the early 1900's:

Let me but do my work from day to day,

In field or forest, at the desk or loom,

In roaring market-place or tranquil room;

Let me but find it in my heart to say,

When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,

"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;

Of all who live, I am the one by whom

This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,

To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;

Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours,

And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall

At eventide, to play and love and rest,

Because I know for me my work is best.

Deserve It! (Author Unknown)

This gem came from the Abeka World Lit book, and while one could argue from a theological angle about what we all actually deserve, the exhortation to a strong character and diligent work ethic is excellent.

Ne'er droop your head upon your hand,

And wail the bitter times;

The self-same bell 

That tolls a knell

Can ring out merry chimes.

And we have still the elements

That made up fame of old,

The wealth to prize

Within us lies,

And not in senseless gold.

Yes; there exists a certain plan,

If you will but observe it,

That opes success to any man;

The secret is--deserve it!

What use to stand by Fortune's hill

And idly sigh and mope?

Its sides are rough, 

And steep enough,

'Tis true; but if you hope

To battle 'gainst impediments

That rudely stop your way,

Go boldly to't;

Strike at the root:

You'll surely gain the day.

 Prate not about new-fangled plans,--

Mine's best, if you'll observe it:

I say success is any man's

If he will but deserve it!

Homer and Milton reign supreme

With Shakespeare--worthy band;

And Howard's name,

And Harvey's claim,

Are sung throughout the land;

And Marlborough and Wellington

Illustrious stand in fight;

And Newton gleams 

Amid the beams

Of an undying light!

What did they do to gain a name?

What did they to preserve it

With an untarnished, deathless fame?

They simply did--deserve it!

And thus may you--and you--and YOU--

From depths the most profound,

Your wishes teach

Success to reach

Up to the topmost round.

But if, from some unreckoned cause,

(Say market overstocked,)

Your hoped-for spoil

Pay others' toil,

Think not your efforts mocked:

If Fortune's smile so faintly beam

That you can scarce preserve it,

Remember, there is One above,

Who knows that you deserve it!

The Choir Invisible

O, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
Of miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge men's minds
To vaster issues. . . .

May I reach
That purest heaven--be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty,
Be the sweet presence of good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense!
So shall I join the choir invisible,
Whose music is the gladness of the world.

George Eliot

found in the "Compassion" chapter of William Bennett's Book of Virtues

Only a Dad

Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.

Only a dad with a brood [to provide for],
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that [on] him I [pin]:
Only a dad, but the best of men.

--Edgar Guest (with slight alterations)

from the Loyalty chapter in the Book of Virtues

Don't Be Puffy

A little learning is a dangerous thing:

Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:

there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,

and drinking largely sobers us again.

--Alexander Pope

HT: Moneychanger, Franklin Sanders

A Generous Heart

Give plenty of what is given to you,
Listen to pity's call;
Don't think the little you give is great,
And the much you get is small.

from "A Legend of the Northland" by Phoebe Cary
found in the "Compassion" chapter of Bennett's Book of Virtues

The Human Touch

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,

The touch of your hand and mine,

Which means far more to the fainting heart

Than shelter and bread and wine;

For shelter is gone when the night is o'er,

And bread lasts only a day,

But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice

Sing on in the soul alway.

--Spencer Michael Free

(from the Friendship chapter of the Book of Virtues)

The Character of a Happy Life--by Henry Wotton

How happy is he born and taught,

That serveth not another's will;

Whose armor is his honest thought,

And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are,

Whose soul is still prepared for death,

Untied unto the worldly care

Of public fame, or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise,

Or vice; who never understood

How deepest wounds are given by praise;

Nor rules of state, but rules of good:

Who hath his life from rumors freed,

Whose conscience is his strong retreat;

Whose state can neither flatterers fee,

Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who God doth late and early pray,

More of his grace than gifts to lend;

And entertains the harmless day

With a religious book or friend

This man is freed from servile bands,

Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;

Lord of himself, though not of lands;

And having nothing, yet hath all.

HT: William Bennett's Book of Virtues, Honesty chapter

D.V. Cooke: How Did You Die?

    Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
    With resolute heart and cheerful?
    Or hide your face from the light of day
    With a craven soul and fearful?

    Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
    Or a trouble’s what you make it.
    And it isn’t the fact that you're hurt that counts,
    But how did you take it?

    You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
    Come up with a smiling face,
    It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
    But to lie there—that’s disgrace!

    The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
    Be proud of your blackened eye!
    It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
    It’s how did you fight—and why?

    And though you be done to the death, what then?
    If you battled the best you could;
    If you played your part in the world of men,
    Why, the Critic will call it good.

    Death comes with a crawl, or it comes with a pounce,
    And whether he’s slow or spry,
    It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
    But only, how did you die?

(America Vision blog)

Amma on Love

For love, brave love that ventureth,
For love that faileth not, I come;
For love that never wearieth,
Nor findeth burdens burdensome.

I come for hope that springeth green,
And burneth steadfast like a star;
For faith that pierceth through the seen
To things eternal, things that are.

O Love, that lightenest all my ways,
Within, without, below, above--
Flow through the minutes of my days;
The sum of all my life be love.

--Amy Carmichael

Nobility

Nobility 
by Alice Cary

True worth is in being, not seeming--
  In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good--not in dreaming
  Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
  And spite of the fancies of youth,
There's nothing so kingly as kindness,
  And nothing so royal as truth.

We get back our mete as we measure--
  We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
  For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
  The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
  And straight, for the children of men.

'Tis not in the pages of story
  The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
  Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
  Alas! it is only to prove
That nothing's so sacred as honor,
  And nothing so loyal as love!

We cannot make bargains for blisses,
  Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
  Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
  Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
  As we would be done by, is all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating,
  Against the world, early and late,
No jot of our courage abating--
  Our part is to work and to wait.
And slight is the sting of his trouble
  Whose winnings are less than his worth;
For he who is honest is noble,
  Whatever his fortunes or birth.

quoted in William Bennett's Book of Virtues, "Honesty" chapter

Fight Manfully

Another quote found in Quest for Love, this one the lyrics from an old gospel song dealing with temptation.  I like the matter of fact exhortations: "Yield not . . . fight manfully . . . look to Jesus."

Yield not to temptation, for yielding is sin.
Each victory will help you some other to win.
Fight manfully onward, dark passions subdue.
Look ever to Jesus, He'll carry you through.

H.R. Palmer

Stick with McGuffey

Another quote from "Perserverance" in Bennett's Book of Virtues, this time sourced from the McGuffy Reader.  I love how it applies in so many ways--to both children and adults.

The fisher who draws in his net too soon, 

Won't have any fish to sell;

The child who shuts up his book too soon,

Won't learn any lessons well.

If you would have your learning stay,

Be patient--don't learn too fast;

The man who travels a mile each day,

May get round the world at last.

Goethe on Perseverance

We've been reading from the "Perseverance" chapter in William Bennett's Book of Virtues lately.  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe definitely didn't get everything right, but he did well with this one:

We must not hope to be mowers,
And to gather the ripe gold ears,
Unless we have first been sowers
And watered the furrows with tears.


It is not just as we take it,
This mystical world of ours,
Life's field will yield as we make it
A harvest of thorns or of flowers.

Thanksgiving Is Always In Season

An Act of Thanksgiving to God for Great Blessings
O God, it is good to be alive, and numbered with
the men whom thou hast made:
and
I thank thee for thy gift of life.

O God, it is good to have the power of thought, and
to seek and learn and know:
and
I thank thee for thy gift of mind.

O God, it is good to dwell beneath the sun in the
world which is thy handiwork:
and
I thank thee for earth's beauty, and thy rule
within its laws.

O God, it is good to come to each new day, and to
find the passing years a cure for wounds innumerable,
and
I thank thee for the ministries of time.

O God, it is good to count in word and deed
for ends beyond our own:
and
I thank thee for thy use of me if I have been
of any service to thy purposes.

O God, it is good to rejoice and to be glad,
and
I thank thee for each person, for each experience of life,
that has brought me happiness.

O God, it is good to feel the disciplines
that school the spirit,
and
I thank thee for the trials and troubles
which have wrought in me some hardihood of soul.

O God, it is good to have thine everlasting arms
beneath us,
and
I thank thee now for all thy mercies,
both temporal and spiritual,
those I have known, those I have not recognized,
wherewith thou hast upheld me in
thy wisdom, power, and love.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heav'nly host:
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

―Miles Lowell Yates (1890-1956)

HT: Feast of Booths, (Pastor Randy Booth) Nov 24, 2011 

 1 Thessalonians 5:18: 
in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

I Never Saw a Moor

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.


I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.


  ~Emily Dickinson

Another Day by Day, Another Favorite

Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith's sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E'er to take, as from a father's hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand.

by Lina Sandell