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A child’s psalm

To God, who made me free, complete                                              thanks be To God who knows my nature, sweet                                              thanks be To God who gives me every good Whose power has forever stood Who joys in Father-Motherhood                                              thanks be! —Cheryl Ranson .

A song of gratitude

Dear Lord, I thank Thee that I did not get An answer to my prayer of long ago. In looking back, I see I asked amiss In praying for the things I longed for so.

A Reader’s silent prayer

Dear Father-Mother Life, Not from me to these, But from Thee the Christ    Goes out to all the world Today, As inspiration flows.   Beloved Father Truth, No sleep or judgment, Only joy attends!    We pray, for all these here Today, Strength to share Your message.

Facebook or the Good Book?

I wonder what our world would be like If the Bible became our Facebook, And we spent our hours researching its text, Finding joy and peace with each look. If we needed assurance that all was all right With our family and friends far or near, The Book has a message so clear and direct, “Be not afraid, God is here.


Upheld by Love I soar so free What is my guide God’s thought of me. … God’s thought is me.

A chaplain’s prayer

The orange suits—camouflage of mortality. For I see who you are—children of the One Parent but seeming              deluded, despairing, cast down.

‘The only true ambition’*

A fitness for service reveals a willing spiritual inclination to dispense good to others, A patient self-forgetfulness with no thought of recompense, A steadfast obedience that exchanges burden for blessing, activity for achievement, That looses from the moorings of self and apathy to freely roam within His boundless opportunities, Never loaded down, but always lifted up. *Mary Baker Eddy, Message to The Mother Church for 1902, p.

The rosebud

The rosebud woke to the     morning breeze And smiled to the world with     consummate ease. It thought to itself: God has    given me room To gently unfurl and present     perfect bloom.


Turmoil, sickness, hatred, sin Send forth their awful, noisy din Yet mortal lies can’t cause dismay, They disappear in Truth’s clear day. For error cannot still the Word; In spite of tumult, God is heard.

Inn or stable?

How often do we have to choose between the “inn” and “stable”? These mental states forever call —to choose the fact or fable. So often on our journey we think the inn will give  us comfort, solace, heaven, rest, —a pleasant way to live.