On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.” ~  John Milton

The Inner Garden

There is an inner garden
Unseen but not unknown
Watered with our worship
Our God calls it His home
He longs for us to meet Him
There in prayer each day
In stillness and in silence
To listen to His ways
He waits for us each morning
Inviting us to bring
Our wonders and our worries,
Every little thing
He takes our needs in hand
And as we linger there
We start to see that He
Is greater than our cares
Tended, gardens grow
Neglected, gardens fail
With time, faith will flourish
With absence, love grows pale
So cultivate this garden
Rest with God alone
Come near and hear His heartbeat
His Presence is our home. ~ Alicia Britt Chole

Unless They Are Prayed

Life without purpose is barren indeed.
There can’t be a harvest unless you plant the seed.
There can’t be attainment unless there’s a goal,
And a man’s but a robot unless there’s a soul.
If we send no ships out, no ships will come in,
And unless there’s a contest, nobody can win.
For games can’t be won unless they are played,
and prayers can’t be answered unless they are prayed.
So whatever is wrong with your life today,
You’ll find a solution if you kneel down and pray.
Not just for pleasure, enjoyment and health,
Not just for honors, prestige or wealth,
But pray for a purpose to make life worth living,
And pray for the joy of unselfish giving,
For great is your gladness and rich your reward
When you make your life’s purpose the choice of the Lord. ~ Helen Steiner Rice

The Choice

 

To every man there openeth
a way, and ways, and a way.
And the high soul climbs the high way,
And the low soul gropes the low:
And in between, on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth
A high way and a low,
And every man decideth.
The way his soul shall go. ~ John Oxenham

It Can Be Done

Somebody said it couldn’t be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That maybe it couldn’t but would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
on his face, if he worried he hid it
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done and he did it.
Somebody scoffed: Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With the lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddity,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go for it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That cannot be done, and you’ll do it. ~ Edgar A. Guest