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.

Feast of Michael & All Angels Pray hardest when it is hardest to pray.

Feast of Michael & All Angels Pray hardest when it is hardest to pray.

When the bones have become most dry, when they are lying most scattered and separate from each other, there is read more

When the bones have become most dry, when they are lying most scattered and separate from each other, there is still a word going forth -- from Him who liveth for ever and ever -- the voice which says, "These bones shall rise." All struggles after union, though they may be of the most abortive kind, though they may produce fresh sects and fresh divisions, though they must do so as long as they rest on the notion that unity is something visible and material, yet indicate a deep and divine necessity which men could not be conscious of in their dreams if they were not beginning to wake.

There is hardly ever a complete silence in our soul. God is whispering to us well-nigh incessantly. Whenever the sounds read more

There is hardly ever a complete silence in our soul. God is whispering to us well-nigh incessantly. Whenever the sounds of the world die out in the soul, or sink low, then we hear these whisperings of God. He is always whispering to us, only we do not always hear, because of the noise, hurry, and distraction which life causes as it rushes on.

There is a joy which is not given to the ungodly, but to those who love Thee for Thine own read more

There is a joy which is not given to the ungodly, but to those who love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy Thou Thyself art. And this is the happy life, to rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee; this it is, and there is no other. ... The Confessions of St. Augustine April 4, 1998 The merit of persons is to be no rule of our charity; but we are to do acts of kindness to those that least of all deserve it.

If a poet or an artist puts himself into his Productions he is criticized. But that is exactly what God read more

If a poet or an artist puts himself into his Productions he is criticized. But that is exactly what God does, he does so in Christ. And precisely that is Christianity. The creation was really only completed when God included himself in it. Before the coming of Christ, God was certainly in the creation, but as an invisible sign, like the watermark in paper. But the creation was completed by the Incarnation because God thereby included himself in it.

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! read more

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by: Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight. For Christ is born of Mary; And gathered all above, While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love. O morning stars together Proclaim the holy birth; And praises sing to God the King, And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently, The wondrous gift is giv'n! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His Heav'n. No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in. O holy Child of Bethlehem, Descend to us, we pray, Cast out our sins, and enter in, Be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel.

Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
read more

Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.

Taken as practical counsel for survival, the Fifth Commandment is now almost a dead letter. Yet if our world were read more

Taken as practical counsel for survival, the Fifth Commandment is now almost a dead letter. Yet if our world were truly Christian, the change might be a reason for rejoicing. We no longer need our families -- we are therefore free to love them with complete unselfishness. Now at last it is possible to honour our parents genuinely, because they no longer have the power to kill us if we don't. The old sort of honour was sometimes an ugly sham: the son who respects Father only out of fear of punishment is not much of a son, just as the Christian who worships God only out of fear of hell is precious little of a Christian. But the new sort of honour can be a beautiful and holy thing. There are many sweet and sane families bound together by love; there are plenty of experts who remind us that only love can make the modern family work at all. And one must admit that there are plenty of parents very willing to be honoured. The catch is that not so many of them are willing to be honourable.