Maxioms by George Macdonald
No indulgence of passion destroys the spiritual nature so much as respectable selfishness.
No indulgence of passion destroys the spiritual nature so much as respectable selfishness.
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.
O Christ, my life, possess me utterly. Take me and make a little Christ of me. If I am anything read more
O Christ, my life, possess me utterly. Take me and make a little Christ of me. If I am anything but thy father's son, 'Tis something not yet from the darkness won. Oh, give me light to live with open eyes. Oh, give me life to hope above all skies.
Commemoration of Martyrs of Papua New Guinea, 1942 It has been well said that no man ever sank under read more
Commemoration of Martyrs of Papua New Guinea, 1942 It has been well said that no man ever sank under the burden of the day. It is when tomorrow's burden is added to the burden of today that the weight is more than a man can bear. Never load yourselves so, my friends. If you find yourselves so loaded, at least remember this: it is your own doing, not God's. He begs you to leave the future to Him and mind the present.
Feast of Simon & Jude, Apostles Some natures will endure an immense amount of misery before they feel read more
Feast of Simon & Jude, Apostles Some natures will endure an immense amount of misery before they feel compelled to look there for help whence all help and healing come. They cannot believe that there is verily an unseen, mysterious power, till the world and all that is in it has vanished in the smoke of despair; till cause and effect are nothing to the intellect, and possible glories have faded from the imagination. Then, deprived of all that made life pleasant or hopeful, the immortal essence, lonely and wretched and unable to cease, looks up with its now unfettered and wakened instinct to the source of its own life -- to the possible God who, notwithstanding all the improbabilities of His existence, may yet perhaps be, and may yet perhaps hear His wretched creature that calls. In this loneliness of despair, life must find The Life: for joy is gone, and life is all that is left; it is compelled to seek its source, its root, its eternal life. This alone remains a possible thing. Strange condition of despair into which the Spirit of God drives a man -- a condition in which the Best alone is the Possible!
