Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 Lord, it belongs not to my care, Whether I die or read more

Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 Lord, it belongs not to my care, Whether I die or live; To love and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give. If life be long I will be glad, That I may long obey; If short--yet why should I be sad To soar to endless day? Christ leads me through no darker rooms Than He went through before; He that unto God's kingdom comes, Must enter by this door. Come, Lord, when grace has made me meet Thy blessed face to see; For if Thy work on earth be sweet, What will Thy glory be! Then shall I end my sad complaints, And weary, sinful days; And join with the triumphant saints, To sing Jehovah's praise. My knowledge of that life is small, The eye of faith is dim; But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with him.

Feast of Anselm, Abbot of Le Bec, Archbishop of Canterbury, Teacher, 1109 O Lord our God, grant us grace read more

Feast of Anselm, Abbot of Le Bec, Archbishop of Canterbury, Teacher, 1109 O Lord our God, grant us grace to desire Thee with our whole heart; that, so desiring,we may seek, and seeking find Thee; and so finding Thee may love Thee; and loving Thee, may hate those sins from which Thou hast redeemed us.

Commemoration of Wilson Carlile, Priest, Founder of the Church Army, 1942 There is no longer any room in the read more

Commemoration of Wilson Carlile, Priest, Founder of the Church Army, 1942 There is no longer any room in the world for a merely external form of Christianity, based upon custom. The world is entering upon a period of catastrophe and crisis when we are being forced to take sides, and in which a higher and more intense spiritual life will be demanded of Christians.

Commemoration of Albrecht Dürer, artist, 1528, and Michelangelo Buonarrotti, artist, spiritual writer, 1564 On the Brink of Death. Now read more

Commemoration of Albrecht Dürer, artist, 1528, and Michelangelo Buonarrotti, artist, spiritual writer, 1564 On the Brink of Death. Now hath my life across a stormy sea Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall Of good and evil for eternity. Now know I well how that fond phantasy Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is nigh? The one I know for sure, the other dread. Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.

Feast of Joseph of Nazareth ... it be a certain truth, that none can understand [the prophets' and apostles'] read more

Feast of Joseph of Nazareth ... it be a certain truth, that none can understand [the prophets' and apostles'] writings aright, without the same Spirit by which they were written. ... The Journal of George Fox March 20, 1999 Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 It is no longer the fashion to suffer for the sake of God, and to bear the Cross for Him; for the diligence and real earnestness, that perchance were found in man, have been extinguished and have grown cold; and now no one is willing any longer to suffer distress for the sake of God.

What then are we afraid of? Can we have too much of God? Is it a misfortune to be freed read more

What then are we afraid of? Can we have too much of God? Is it a misfortune to be freed from the heavy yoke of the world, and to bear the light burden of Jesus Christ? Do we fear to be too happy, too much delivered from ourselves, from the caprices of our pride, the violence of our passions, and the tyranny of this deceitful world?

Commemoration of John & Henry Venn, Priests, Evangelical Divines, 1813, 1873 When I trouble myself over a trifle, read more

Commemoration of John & Henry Venn, Priests, Evangelical Divines, 1813, 1873 When I trouble myself over a trifle, even a trifle confessed -- the loss of some little article, say -- spurring my memory, and hunting the house, not from immediate need, but from dislike of loss; when a book has been borrowed of me and is not returned, and I have forgotten the borrower; and fret over the missing volume, ... is it not time that I lost a few things, when I care for them so unreasonably? This losing of things is the mercy of God: it comes to teach us to let them go. Or have I forgotten a thought that came to me, which seemed of the truth? I keep trying and trying to call it back, feeling a poor man until that thought be recovered -- to be far more lost, perhaps, in a notebook into which I shall never look again to find it! I forget that it is live things that God cares about.

Feast of George Herbert, Priest, Poet, 1633 It's true we cannot reach Christ's forti'th day Yet to go part of read more

Feast of George Herbert, Priest, Poet, 1633 It's true we cannot reach Christ's forti'th day Yet to go part of that religious way Is better than to rest: We cannot reach our Savior's purity; Yet we are bid, 'Be holy ev'n as He': In both let's do our best. Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone Is much more sure to meet with Him than one That traveleth by-ways; Perhaps my God, though He be far before, May turn, and take me by the hand, and more, May strengthen my decays. Yet, Lord, instruct us to improve our fast By starving sin, and taking such repast As may our faults control; That ev'ry man may revel at his door, Not in his parlor -- banquetting the poor, And among those, his soul.

Commemoration of William Wilberforce, Social Reformer, 1833 All these several artifices, whatever they may be, to unhallow the read more

Commemoration of William Wilberforce, Social Reformer, 1833 All these several artifices, whatever they may be, to unhallow the Sunday, and to change its character (it might be almost said, to mitigate its horrors,) prove but too plainly, however we may be glad to take refuge in religion, when driven to it by the loss of every other comfort, and to retain, as it were, a reversionary interest in an asylum, which may receive us when we are forced from the transitory enjoyments of our present state; that in itself wears to us a gloomy and forbidding aspect, and not a face of consolation and joy; that the worship of God is with us a constrained, not a willing, service, which we are glad therefore to abridge, though we dare not omit it.