
“…Thy need is sown and rooted for His rain…
Work on!”
George MacDonald, The Cloud of Witness, p. 153
“…Thy need is sown and rooted for His rain…
Work on!”
George MacDonald, The Cloud of Witness, p. 153
MAY I reach
That purest heaven, -be to other souls
That cup of strength in some great agony!-
Enkindle generous ardour, -feed pure love,-
Beget smiles that have no cruelty,-
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense!
So shall I join the choir invisible,
Whose music is the gladness of the world!
G. Eliot, The Cloud of Witness, p.136
Dying is easy; – keep thou steadfastly
The greater part, – to live and to endure.
~ H. Hamilton King, p. 123, The Cloud of Witness
…That when winter of the soul is bare,
The seed of heaven at first begins to grow,
Peeping abroad in desert of despair.
H. Coleridge, The Cloud of Witness
Blessed are those who die for GOD
And earn the Martyr’s crown of light;
Yet he who lives for GOD may be
A greater Conqueror in His sight.
A.Procter, p. 44, The Cloud of Witness
Every joy is gain, And gain is gain however how small.
~ Browning, p. 28, The Cloud of Witness
The Four Seasons of Mary Azarian, by Lilias Macbean Hart, illustrated by Mary Azarian
Continuing my Advent musings with Azarian and The Cloud of Witness…
In every gladness, LORD, Thou art
The deeper Joy behind.
~George MacDonald
p. 29, The Cloud of Witness
(emphasis mine)
{Take Joy home. Considering the words from J. Ingelow in the above photograph and Mr. MacDonald’s line, also. Just perfection for contemplation while gazing at Azarian’s lovely woodcut. Christmas blessings to you all!}
THE night
Wanes into morning, and the dawning light
Broadens, and all shadows fade and shift!
I follow, follow, – sure to meet the sun,
And confident that what the future yields
Will be the Right,-unless myself be wrong.
Longfellow, The Cloud of Witness, p. 22
The Four Seasons of Mary Azarian, by Lilias Macbean Hart, illustrated by Mary Azarian
Continuing my Advent musings with Azarian and The Cloud of Witness…
…Heaven within the reed
Lists for the flute-note; in the folded seed
It sees the bud, and in the Will the Deed…
~D. Greenwell
How shall we judge their present, we who have never seen
That which is past forever, and that which might have been?
Measuring by ourselves, unwise indeed we are!
Measuring what we know by what we can hardly see.
~F.R. Havergal
Be not proud of well-doing;
for the judgment of God is far different
from the judgement of men, and that
often offendeth, Him which pleaseth them.
~Thomas A Kempis
God judges by a light Which baffles mortal sight;
And the useless – seeing man the crown hath won
In His vast world above, –
A world of broader love, –
God hath some grand employment for His Son.
~Fabor
all partial or full selections above from The Cloud of Witness, p. 20
But two ways are offered to our will – Toil with rare triumph, Ease with safe disgrace: – Nor deem that acts heroic wait on chance! The man’s whole life precludes the single deed That shall decide if his inheritance Be with the sifted few of matchless breed, Or with the unmotivated herd that only sleep and feed.
~ Lowell, p.36, The Cloud of Witness, emphasis mine
The Four Seasons of Mary Azarian, by Lilias Macbean Hart, illustrated by Mary Azarian {previously published post from December 2019}
Continuing my Advent musings with Azarian and The Cloud of Witness…
Earth breaks up, time drops away,
In flows heaven with its new day
Of endless life, when He who trod,
Very Man and very God,
This earth in weakness, shame
and pain,
Dying the death whose signs
remain
Up yonder on the accursed tree, –
Shall come again, no more to be
Of captivity the thrall,
But the one God, All in All,
King of Kings and Lord of lords:
As His servant John received the words,
“I died, and live for evermore.”
~ Browning, p. 9
The Cloud of Witness
The Four Seasons of Mary Azarian, by Lilias Macbean Hart, illustrated by Mary Azarian.
It may be in the evening,
When the work of the day is done,
And you have time to sit in the twilight,
And watch the sinking sun,
While the long bright day dies slowly
Over the sea,
And the hour grows quiet and holy
With thoughts of ME:
While you hear the village children
passing along the street –
Among those thronging footsteps
May come the sound of my feet
Therefore I tell you, Watch!
By the light of the evening star
When the moon is growing dusky
As the clouds afar,
Let the door be on the latch
In your home,
For it may be through the gloaming
I will come.
~B.M. , p. 4
{Join me this month in quiet contemplation and prayer on our Savior’s coming…}