Maxioms by George Macdonald
Continuing a short series on prayer: We know that the wind blows; why should we not know that read more
Continuing a short series on prayer: We know that the wind blows; why should we not know that God answers prayer? I reply, What if God does not care to have you know it at second-hand? What if there would be no good in that? There is some testimony on record, and perhaps there might be much more were it not that, having to do with things so immediately personal, and generally so delicate, answers to prayer would naturally not often be talked about; but no testimony concerning the thing can well be conclusive; for, like a reported miracle, there is always some way to daff it; and besides, the conviction to be got that way is of little value: it avails nothing to know the thing by the best of evidence... `But if God is so good as you represent Him, and if He knows all that we need, and better far than we do ourselves, why should it be necessary to ask Him for anything?" In answer, What if He knows prayer to be the thing we need first and most? What if the main object in God's idea of prayer be the supplying of our great, our endless need -- the need of Himself? (Continued tomorrow).
Where did you get that pearly ear?
God spoke and it came out to hear.
Where did you get that pearly ear?
God spoke and it came out to hear.
That no obedience but a perfect one will satisfy God, I hold with all my heart and strength; but that read more
That no obedience but a perfect one will satisfy God, I hold with all my heart and strength; but that there is none else that He cares for, is one of the lies of the enemy. What father is not pleased with the first tottering attempt of his little one to walk? What father would be satisfied with anything but the manly step of the full-grown son?
Commemoration of Samuel Seabury, First Anglican Bishop in North America, 1796 Gather my broken fragments to a whole, read more
Commemoration of Samuel Seabury, First Anglican Bishop in North America, 1796 Gather my broken fragments to a whole, As these four quarters make a shining day. Into thy basket, for my golden bowl, Take up the things that I have cast away In vice or indolence or unwise play. Let mine be a merry, all-receiving heart, But make it a whole, with light in every part.
To be trusted is a greater complement than to be loved.
To be trusted is a greater complement than to be loved.
