The last Christian died on the cross

The last Christian died on the cross

The heart is commonly reached, not through the reason, but through the imagination, by means of direct impressions, by the read more

The heart is commonly reached, not through the reason, but through the imagination, by means of direct impressions, by the testimony of facts and events, by history, by description. Persons influence us, voices melt us, looks subdue us, deeds inflame us.

For some extraordinary reason, the Church moves in an atmosphere of antiquity. I have no doubt that it makes for read more

For some extraordinary reason, the Church moves in an atmosphere of antiquity. I have no doubt that it makes for dignity; I have also no coubt that there are times when it makes for complete irrelevance; for, if there is one thing that is true of religion it is that it must always be expressible in contemporary terms. Religion fails if it cannot speak to men as they are.

"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of read more

"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised.".

Feast of Oswald, King of Northumbria, Martyr, 642 Slowly, all through the universe, that temple of God is being read more

Feast of Oswald, King of Northumbria, Martyr, 642 Slowly, all through the universe, that temple of God is being built. Wherever, in any world, a soul, by free-willed obedience, catches the fire of God's likeness, it is set into the growing walls, a living stone. When, in your hard fight, in your tiresome drudgery, or in your terrible temptation, you catch the purpose of your being and give yourself to God, and so give Him the chance to give Himself to you, your life -- a living stone -- is taken up and set into that growing wall. Wherever souls are being tried and ripened, in whatever commonplace and homely ways, there God is hewing out the pillars for His temple. Oh, if the stone can only have some vision of the temple of which it is to be a part forever, what patience must fill it as it feels the blows of the hammer, and knows that success for it is simply to let itself be wrought into what shape the Master wills.

Commemoration of Rose of Lima, Contemplative, 1617 We have been adopted as sons by the Lord with this one read more

Commemoration of Rose of Lima, Contemplative, 1617 We have been adopted as sons by the Lord with this one condition: that our life express Christ, the bond of our adoption. Accordingly, unless we give and devote ourselves to righteousness, we not only revolt from our Creator with wicked perfidy, but we also abjure our Savior Himself.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 You rob, and spoile, and eat his people as bread, by Extortion, read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 You rob, and spoile, and eat his people as bread, by Extortion, and bribery, and deceitful waights and measures, and deluding oathes in buying and selling, and then come hither, and so make God your Receiver, and his house a den of Thieves. His house is Sanctum Sanctorum, The holiest of holies, and you make it onely Sanctuarium: It should be a place sanctified by your devotions, and you make it onely a Sanctuary to priviledge Maelfactors, a place that may redeeme you from the ill opinion of men, who must in charity be bound to thinke well of you, because they see you in here.

Feast of the Naming & Circumcision of Jesus The blessed son of God only In a crib full poor did read more

Feast of the Naming & Circumcision of Jesus The blessed son of God only In a crib full poor did lie; With our poor flesh and our poor blood Was clothed that everlasting good The Lord Christ Jesu, God's son dear, Was a guest and a stranger here; Us for to bring from misery, That we might live eternally. All this did he for us freely, For to declare his great mercy; All Christendom be merry therefore, And give him thanks for evermore.

Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand read more

Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on the the lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If I this night before God's throne must stand. "He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, Like Baal, when his prophets holed that name From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height." Nay, peace! I shall behold, before the night, The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, The wounded hands, the weary human face.