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.
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.
The orange suits—camouflage of mortality. For I see who you are—children of the One Parent but seeming deluded, despairing, cast down.
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 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.
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.
Herod could not see the star shining above mother and child, heralding divine Truth. Herod could not hear the song of angels o’er shepherds’ fields, rejoicing with the dawn.
All rays of light in thought ought to make us humbly grateful. Truth doesn’t come in installments but often rests till we are ready.