Commemoration of Frederick Denison Maurice, Priest, teacher, 1872 We can do nothing, we say sometimes, we can only pray. read more

Commemoration of Frederick Denison Maurice, Priest, teacher, 1872 We can do nothing, we say sometimes, we can only pray. That, we feel, is a terribly precarious second-best. So long as we can fuss and work and rush about, so long as we can lend a hand, we have some hope; but if we have to fall back upon God -- ah, then things must be critical indeed!

God did not write a book and send it by messenger to be read at a distance by unaided minds. read more

God did not write a book and send it by messenger to be read at a distance by unaided minds. He spoke a Book and lives in His spoken words, constantly speaking His words and causing the power of them to persist across the years.

Commemoration of Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, Teacher, 1901 What are our lame praises in comparison with read more

Commemoration of Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, Teacher, 1901 What are our lame praises in comparison with His love? Nothing, and less than nothing; but love will stammer rather than be dumb.

Commemoration of Bridget of Sweden, Abbess of Vadstena, 1373 Christ came, not so much to preach the Gospel, read more

Commemoration of Bridget of Sweden, Abbess of Vadstena, 1373 Christ came, not so much to preach the Gospel, as that there might be a Gospel to preach.

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.

God has not cared that we should anywhere have assurance of His very words; and that not merely, perhaps, because read more

God has not cared that we should anywhere have assurance of His very words; and that not merely, perhaps, because of the tendency in His children to word-worship, false logic, and corruption of the truth, but because He would not have them oppressed by words, seeing that words, being human, and therefore but partially capable, could not absolutely contain or express what the Lord meant, and that even He must depend for being understood upon the spirit of His disciple. Seeing that it could not give life, the letter should not be throned with power to kill.

Wisdom is meaningless until your own experience has given it meaning and there is wisdom in the selection of wisdom.

Wisdom is meaningless until your own experience has given it meaning and there is wisdom in the selection of wisdom.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms, can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die.

Commemoration of Mellitus, First Bishop of London, 624 Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who forgives you read more

Commemoration of Mellitus, First Bishop of London, 624 Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who forgives you -- out of love -- takes upon himself the consequences of what you have done. Forgiveness, therefore, always entails a sacrifice.