Commemoration of Bridget of Sweden, Abbess of Vadstena, 1373 If the wounds of millions are to be healed, what read more

Commemoration of Bridget of Sweden, Abbess of Vadstena, 1373 If the wounds of millions are to be healed, what other way is there except through forgiveness? Jesus, at least, leaves us no alternative. The command is stern. The terms are set: "But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.".

Commemoration of Bartolomè de las Casas, Apostle to the Indies, 1566 After all, Brethren, the whole end of Theology read more

Commemoration of Bartolomè de las Casas, Apostle to the Indies, 1566 After all, Brethren, the whole end of Theology is love. It seems hard to realize that that is so, but so it is. If your theology does not make you more loving, it has not Christianized you and to that extent is not a Christian theology... All ecclesiasticism and all doctrinalizing are in order to form character, and the soul of character is love. Preach the truth in love, and for the development of love.

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr The Mother sits by the rough-hewn byre where her Baby smiles, and the secret read more

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr The Mother sits by the rough-hewn byre where her Baby smiles, and the secret fire shines on her face. Her hand rests by an iron spike from the wood thrust high ("The nails in His hands!" ) An open chink in the rude, cold shed lets in the sky, and the Star that led shepherds and kings pours down its light: a silver shaft through the frosty night ("The spear in His side!") Her hands reach out, as to push away the cross-crowned hill and the bloody day; they touch a rough, unyielding wall: the stable side, of stone piled tall ("The stone -- rolled away!").

Christ is the Word of God. It is not in certain texts written in the New Testament, valuable as they read more

Christ is the Word of God. It is not in certain texts written in the New Testament, valuable as they are; it is not in certain words which Jesus spoke, vast as is their preciousness; it is in the Word, which Jesus is, that the great manifestation of God is made.

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.

CHRISTMAS DAY He has come! the Christ of God; Left for us His glad abode, Stooping from His throne of read more

CHRISTMAS DAY He has come! the Christ of God; Left for us His glad abode, Stooping from His throne of bliss, To this darksome wilderness. He has come! the Prince of Peace; Come to bid our sorrows cease; Come to scatter with His light All the darkness of our night. He, the Mighty King, has come! Making this poor world His home; Come to bear our sin's sad load,-- Son of David, Son of God! He has come whose name of grace Speaks deliverance to our race; Left for us His glad abode,-- Son of Mary, Son of God! Unto us a Child is born! Ne'er has earth beheld a morn, Among all the morns of time, Half so glorious in its prime! Unto us a Son is given! He has come from God's own heaven, Bringing with Him, from above, Holy peace and holy love.

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son read more

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light insufferable, And that far-beaming blaze majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity He laid aside, and, here with us to be. Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! Oh, run! present them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.

I will attempt no historical or theological classification of [George] Macdonald's thought, partly because I have not the learning to read more

I will attempt no historical or theological classification of [George] Macdonald's thought, partly because I have not the learning to do so, still more because I am no great friend to such pigeon-holing. One very effective way of silencing the voice of conscience is to impound in an Ism the teacher through whom it speaks; the trumpet no longer seriously disturbs our rest when we have murmured '..Thomist', 'Barthian', or 'Existentialist'. And in Macdonald it is, always the voice of conscience that speaks. He addresses the will: the demand for obedience, for "something to be neither more nor less nor other than done" is incessant. Yet in that very voice of conscience every other faculty somehow speaks as well -- intellect and imagination and humour and fancy and all the affections; and no man in modern times was perhaps more aware of the distinction between Law and Gospel, the inevitable failure of mere morality.

EPIPHANY Invisible in His own nature [God] became visible in ours. Beyond our grasp, He chose to come read more

EPIPHANY Invisible in His own nature [God] became visible in ours. Beyond our grasp, He chose to come within our grasp.