Commemoration of Phillips Brooks, Bishop of Massachusetts, spiritual writer, 1893 Orthodoxy is, in the Church, very much what prejudice read more

Commemoration of Phillips Brooks, Bishop of Massachusetts, spiritual writer, 1893 Orthodoxy is, in the Church, very much what prejudice is in the single mind. It is the premature conceit of certainty. It is the treatment of the imperfect as if it were the perfect.

Commemoration of Francis Xavier, Apostle of the Indies, Missionary, 1552 Who is there that ever receives a gift read more

Commemoration of Francis Xavier, Apostle of the Indies, Missionary, 1552 Who is there that ever receives a gift and tries to make bargains about it? Let us, then, return thanks for what He has bestowed on us. Who can tell whether, if we had had a larger share of ability or stronger health, we should not have possessed them to our destruction.

Continuing a short series on authenticity: "Prayer in the Name of Christ", though it is essentially a mystical read more

Continuing a short series on authenticity: "Prayer in the Name of Christ", though it is essentially a mystical phrase, also contains a surface meaning which is very valuable to those who grasp and apply it. The more Jesus becomes our standard and inspiration in prayer, the more confident we may be of a favorable hearing.

We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic read more

We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearth-stone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

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!").

If we are to live unto God at any time, or in any place, we are to live unto Him read more

If we are to live unto God at any time, or in any place, we are to live unto Him at all times and all places. If we are to use anything as the gift of God, we are to use everything as His gift.

Feast of Margaret, Queen of Scotland, Philanthropist, Reformer of the Church, 1093 Commemoration of Edmund Rich of Abingdon, Archbishop of read more

Feast of Margaret, Queen of Scotland, Philanthropist, Reformer of the Church, 1093 Commemoration of Edmund Rich of Abingdon, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1240 This idea of the Bible's unity is not a concept which is imposed upon the Bible because of the dogmatic assertion that it is verbally inspired. To the contrary, it is inherent in the Bible, for the Bible declares itself to be the Word of God. If it be the Word of God, its various teachings should all form a coherent unity. This presupposition of the Bible's unity provides a test for the validity of a system of interpretation: if the system is not able to demonstrate the Bible's unity, it must be an inadequate system.

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 A Better Resurrection I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart read more

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 A Better Resurrection I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears. Look right, look left, I dwell alone; I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief No everlasting hills I see; My life is in the falling leaf: O Jesus, quicken me. My life is like a faded leaf, My harvest dwindled to a husk: Truly my life is void and brief And tedious in the barren dusk; My life is like a frozen thing, No bud nor greenness can I see: Yet rise it shall--the sap of spring; O Jesus, rise in me. My life is like a broken bowl, A broken bowl that cannot hold One drop of water for my soul Or cordial in the searching cold; Cast in the fire the perished thing; Melt and remould it, till it be A royal cup for Him, my King: O Jesus, drink of me.

Feast of Vincent de Paul, Founder of the Congregation of the Mission (Lazarists), 1660 Words are merely carriers of read more

Feast of Vincent de Paul, Founder of the Congregation of the Mission (Lazarists), 1660 Words are merely carriers of the secret, supernatural communications, the light and call of God. That is why spiritual books bear such different meanings for different types and qualities of soul, why each time we read them they give us something fresh, as we can bear it.