When trade grew slack, and notes fell due, The merchant's face grew long and blue; His dreams were troubled through the night With sheriff bailiffs all in sight. At this his wife unto him said 'Rise up at once, get out of bed, And get your paper, ink, and pen, And advertise to all good men.' He did as his good wife advised, And in the papers advertised. Crowds came and bought of all he had; His notes were paid, his dreams were glad; And he will tell you to this day, How well did printer's ink repay.
Just to be tender, just to be true, Just to be glad, the whole day through, Just to be merciful, just to be mild, Just to be gentle, and kind, and sweet, Just to be helpful with willing feet, Just to be cheerful when things go wrong, Just to drive sadness away with a song, Whether the hour is dark or bright; Just to be loyal to God and right, Just to believe that God knows best, Just in his promises ever to rest Just to let love be our daily key, That is Gods will for you and me.
To give the white-haired father or mother not only respect, but confidence, to tell the joke and the secret to them first, to accord them cordially the central place in the merrymaking, may seem trivial matters, yet they are not trivial to those who, in the twilight of life, begin to think they are useless or forgotten, and to question whether they shall be missed when they shall go out into the nearing night. Courtesy is but a little thing and costs nothing, and if it is due to any one, it is surely due to the aged among us, especially when these are our parents.
A few years ago at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash. At the gun they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with the relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is, except one boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and paused. Then they all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down's syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, 'This will make it better.' Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on for 10 minutes.
When the Lord gave out brains, I thought He said trains, and I missed mine. When He gave out looks, I thought He said books, and I didn't want any. When He gave out noses, I thought He said roses, and I asked for a red one. When He gave out legs, I thought He said kegs, and I ordered two fat ones. When He gave out chins, I thought He said gins, and I ordered a double one. When He gave out heads, I thought He said beds, and I asked for a soft one. Oh Gee, am I a mess!
As Joseph Was A-Walking As Joseph was a-walking He heard Angels sing, 'This night shall be born Our Heavenly King. 'He neither shall be born In house nor in hall, Nor in the place of paradise, But in an ox-stall. 'He shall not be clothed In purple nor pall; But all in fair linen, As wear babies all. 'He shall not be rocked In silver nor gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould. 'He neither shall be christened In milk nor in wine, But in pure spring-well water Fresh spring from Bethine.' Mary took her baby, She dressed Him so sweet, She laid Him in a manger, All there for to sleep. As she stood over Him She heard Angels sing, 'Oh, bless our dear Saviour Our Heavenly King!'
Little George was very piously trained; but he had a strong will and disliked very much to yield. When he was disobedient his mother was accustomed to make him stand in a corner of the room for a while. One night, after he had been more than stubborn, he knelt to say his evening prayer, and made this petition: 'Oh, Lord, bless Georgey and make him a good boy, and don't let him be naughty again, never no never, 'cause you know, Lord, when he is naughty, he sticks to it!'
I watched them tearing a building down A gang of men in a busy town. With a Ho-Heave-Ho, a lusty yell They swung a beamand a side wall fell. I asked the foreman, 'Are these men skilled And the men you'd hire if you had to build?' 'For the most part,' he said, 'No indeed. Just common labor is all I need. 'I can easily wreck in a day or two What builders have taken a year to do.' And I thought to myself, as I went away, Which of these roles have I tried to play? Am I a builder, who works with care, Measuring life by the rule and square? Am I shaping my deeds to a well made plan? Patiently doing the things I can? Or, am I a wrecker, who walks the town Content with the labor of tearing down?
You dont have to tell how you live each day, You dont have to say if you work or you play, A tried, true barometer serves in the place, However you live, it will show in your face. The false, the deceit that you bear in your heart Will not stay inside where it first got a start; For sinew and blood are a thin veil of lace What you wear in your heart, you wear in your face. If your life is unselfish, if for others you live, For not what you get, but how much you can give; If you live close to God in his infinite grace You dont have to tell it, it shows in your face.
Let us pray that strength and courage abundant be given to all who work for a world of reason and understanding, that the good that lies in every mans heart may day by day be magnified, that men will come to see more clearly not that which divides them, but that which unites them, that each hour may bring us closer to a final victory, not of nation over nation, but of man over his own evils and weaknesses, that the true spirit of this Christmas season its joy, its beauty, its hope, and above all its abiding faith may live among us, that the blessings of peace be ours the peace to build and grow, to live in harmony and sympathy with others, and to plan for the future with confidence.
Always remember, no one can debase you but yourself. Slander, satire, falsehood, injusticethese can never rob you of your manhood. Men may lie about you, they may denounce you, they may cherish suspicions manifold, they may make your failings the target of their wit or cruelty. Never be alarmed; never swerve an inch from the line your judgment and conscience have marked out for you. They cannot, by all their efforts, take away your knowledge of yourself, the purity of your character, and the generosity of your nature. While these are left, you are unharmed.
A dog thinks: Hey, these people I live with feed me, love me, provide me with a nice warm, dry house, pet me, and take good care of me.... They must be Gods! A cat thinks: Hey, these people I live with feed me, love me, provide me with a nice warm, dry house, pet me, and take good care of me.... I must be a God!
According to the ancient Greeks, when Hercules was a boy, just reaching the period of life when there was a question in his mind which path he should pursue, he went forth by himself and sat down and meditated. There came to him someone in the form of a beautiful young woman. 'Hercules, I know what you want,' she said 'the path that I will point out to you will bring pleasure, will bring you constant place in society, will bring you the choice things of life, to eat and to drink and clothing to wear. You shall be popular in the society in which you shall move, and your whole life will be one constant round of pleasure.' 'What is your name?' Hercules asked. 'My enemies call me Vice, but my friends call me Pleasure,' she replied. Then there appeared to him another beautiful woman and she said: 'Hercules, I shall not deceive you; the path I shall point out to you will be a path of labor, a path of toil, a path of self-sacrifice, a path in which you must devote a great deal of your effort and energy; you will have to forget yourself; you will have to serve your friends; you will have to serve the people of Greece; but if you will take this path and pursue it, although it may bring to you much toil and privation and many sacrifices, you shall become immortal.' Hercules asked: 'What is your name?' She replied: 'My name is Duty.'
ENTROPY: The degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity. Order is created and controlled by intelligence. Entropy occurs in the physical world without control by intelligence. Synonyms: Chaos, Confusion, Entropy, Disarray, Disharmony, Disintegration, Disorder, Disorganization, Disruption, Incoherence, Incohesive, Jumble, Noncohesive, Nonintegration, Mess, Morass, Muddle, Slackness, Sloppiness.
Know this, that evry soul is free To choose his life and what hell be; For this eternal truth is givn That God will force no man to heavn. Hell call, persuade, direct aright, And bless with wisdom, love and light, In nameless ways be good and kind, But never force the human mind. Freedom and reason make us men; Take these away, what are we then? Mere animals, and just as well The beasts may think of heavn or hell. May we no more our powrs abuse, But ways of truth and goodness choose; Our God is pleased when we improve His grace and seek his perfect love.
A research project in Australia, entitled 'The Congruent Garden: an Investigation into the Role of the Domestic Garden in Satisfying Fundamental Human Needs,' interviewed gardeners on the values of gardening in their everyday lives. The researchers established that gardens have the potential to satisfy nine basic human needs (subsistence, protection, affection, understanding, participation, leisure, creation, identity, freedom) across four existential states (being, having, doing and interacting.)
Grain crops, or cereals, are by far the most important sources of plant food for the human race. On a world wide basis, they provide twothirds of the energy and half the protein of the diet. These crops are: wheat, rice, maize (corn), oats, barley, rye, sorghum, and millet.
The question, 'Which is the happiest season of life?' was asked of an aged man. And he replied: 'When spring comes, and in the soft air the buds are breaking on the trees, and they are covered with blossoms, I think, 'How beautiful is spring'; and when summer comes and covers the trees with its heavy foliage, and singing birds are among the branches, I think, 'How beautiful is summer.' When autumn loads them with golden fruit, and their leaves bear the gorgeous tint of frost, I think, 'How beautiful is autumn.' And when it is severe winter, and there is neither foliage nor fruit, then I look up through the leafless branches as I never could until now, and see the stars shine in God's home.'
'The road is too rough, dear Lord,' I cried, 'There are stones that hurt me so.' 'My child,' He said, 'I understand, I walked it long ago.' 'But there's a cool green path ahead, Let me walk there for a time.' 'No child,' He gently answered me, 'The green road does not climb.' 'My burden,' I cried, 'is far too great. How can I bear this load?' 'Dear One,' said He, 'I remember its weightI carried my cross, you know.' 'But,' I said, 'I wish there were friends with me, that would make their way my own.' 'Oh yes,' He said, 'Gethsemane was hard to bear alone.' And so I climbed the stony path, Content at least to know That where the Master had not gone, I would not have to go. And strangely then I found new friends, My burdens grew less sore, As I remembered long ago He walked that way before.
I am home in Heaven, dear ones; Oh, so happy and so bright! There is perfect joy and beauty In this everlasting light. All the pain and grief is over, Every restless tossing passed; I am now at peace forever, Safely home in Heaven at last. Did you wonder I so calmly Trod the valley of the shade? Oh! but Jesus' love illumined Every dark and fearful glade. And He came Himself to meet me In that way so hard to tread; And with Jesus' arm to lean on, Could I have one doubt or dread? Then you must not grieve so sorely, For I love you dearly still: Try to look beyond earth's shadows, Pray to trust our Father's Will. There is work still waiting for you, So you must not idly stand; Do it now while life remaineth You shall rest in Jesus' land. When that work is all completed, He will gently call you Home; Oh, the rapture of that meeting, Oh, the joy to see you come!
In the cathedral at Lubek, Germany, near the turn of the century was the following inscription: Ye call me master, and obey me not; Ye call me light, and seek me not; Ye call me way, and walk me not; Ye call me wise, and follow me not; Ye call me fair, and love me not; Ye call me rich, and ask me not; Ye call me eternal, and seek me not; Ye call me gracious, and trust me not; Ye call me noble, and serve me not; Ye call me mighty, and honor me not; Ye call me just, and fear me not; If I condemn you, blame me not.
You tell on yourself by the friends you seek, By the very manner in which you speak, By the way you employ your leisure time, By the use you make of dollar and dime. You tell what you are by the things you wear, By the spirit in which you your burdens bear, By the kind of things at which you laugh, By the records you play on your phonograph. You tell what you are by the way you walk, By the things of which you delight to talk, By the manner in which you bear defeat, By so simple a thing as how you eat. By the books you choose from a well-filled shelf In these ways, and more, you tell on yourself. So really there's not a grain of sense In trying to keep up a false pretense.
Life is like a mop ... and sometimes life gets full of dirt and crud and bugs and hair balls and stuff and you, you, you got to clean it out. You got to put it in here and rinse it off and start over again, and sometimes you know, a mop ... a mop is not good enough you, you got to get down there like with a toothbrush, you know, and you get to really scrub to get it clean ... you got to get it off, you got to really try to get it off ... and if that doesn't work, if that doesn't work you can't give up. You got to stand right up, you got to run to a window and say 'Hey these floors are dirty as hell and I'm not going to take it any more!'
A preacher in the East End of London was speaking of the love of Godso full and boundlessand compared it to the love of a mother, which remains constant and true even when her children sinned. 'Nothing,' he said, 'can destroy the love of a mother.' At the close of the service, when he went out into the cold, rough night, a little girl in rags pulled at his coat with a trembling hand, and said: 'Please, sir, you forgot something tonight. There is something that can take away a mother's love.' 'What do you mean, my child?' he asked. 'Please, sir, liquor will. It took away my mother's love, and I know.'
It is nothing less than fantastic the way mathematical odds add up. For instance take the possibility of making a mistake in making a telephone call. Most local exchanges require seven digits, which is accomplished in four or five seconds. The phone has ten digits on it. The mathematical formula of possibilities is ten to the seventh power, which is 10,000,000, or it is 9,999,999 to 1 that you would enter a wrong number if you didn't know what you were doing. Add the four digits to get a long distance number and it becomes 100,000,000,000. Mortality, which fortunately lasts for most of us many times that four or five seconds that it takes to place a telephone call, is also full of chances to make mistakes. Fortunately, too, the path through mortality is well marked, and we can, with exercising care, get to where we all desire to be at the end of mortality.
It is difficult to place a monetary value on the many vital services that trees provide. However, the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection calculates that a single tree that lives for fifty years will contribute service worth nearly $200,000 (in 1994 dollars) to the community during its lifetime. This includes providing oxygen ($31,250), recycling water and regulating humidity ($37,000), controlling air pollution ($62,500), producing protein ($2,500), providing shelter for wildlife ($31,250), and controlling land erosion and fertilizing the soil ($31,250).
There are two trees, each yielding its own fruit. One of them is negative ... it grows from lack of selfworth and its fruits are fear, anger, envy, bitterness, sorrow and any other negative emotion. Then there is the tree of positive emotions. Its nutrients include selfforgiveness and a correct self concept. Its fruits are love, joy, acceptance, selfesteem, faith, peace ... and other uplifting emotions.
We ran out of new ideas somewhere around 1978, since then we've been repeating ourselves. Same songs, same movies, same clothes, even the same crimes. Like this Robie guy, no imagination. He's just part of the rhythm and the rhyme of all this repeating. This is 1996, here comes the millennium. But people are nervous, they're on edge, they're jumpy. This is supposed to be something new. But we can't look that in the face, can we? So what do we do? We grab a little something from one year in the fifties and a little of something else from some other year, maybe late sixties. We think we're creating something new and different, but really, all we're doing is just repeating the same old ... nothing. We're all copycats.
Pain stayed so long, I said to him today, 'I will not have you with me any more,' I stamped my foot and said, 'Be on your way,' And paused there, startled at the look he wore. 'I, who have been your friend,' he said to me; 'I, who have been your teacherall you know Of understanding love, of sympathy And patience I have taught you. Shall I go?'
O Father, whose voice I hear in the woods and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me. I am a man before you, one of your many children. I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunsets. Make my hands respect the things you have made, my ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise so that I may know the things you have taught my people, the lessons you have hid in every leaf and rock. I seek strength, Father not to be superior to my brothers, but to be able to fight my greatest enemy, myself. Make me ever ready to come to you with clean hands and a straight eye, so that when life fades like a fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.... I asked for health, that I might do greater things I was given infirmity, that I might do better things... I asked for riches, that I might be happy. I was given poverty, that I might be wise... I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.... I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life I was given life that I might enjoy all things.... I got nothing I asked for but everything I hoped for. Almost despite myself my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among men, most richly blessed!
I built a shipa great large ship, And Pride stood at the helm And steered for Fame, that wondrous land, And Wealthbright, golden realm! And Pride was captain, mate, and crew, And launched my ship with much ado. 'Now go, my ship, my great, great ship, And laugh the winds to scorn.' And lo, my ship came back to me All broken, bent. and torn! I built a ship, a lovely ship, With modern wings of white, And thought not of bright Wealth or Fame, But Service rose in sight. Love was my captain, mate, and crew And launched my ship without ado. 'Now go, my ship, my lowly ship, Thy modest wings unfold.' And lo, my ship came dancing back Just weighted down with gold!
There is a shady side of life, And a sunny side as well, And 'tis for everyone to say On which he'd choose to dwell; For everyone unto himself Commits a grievous sin, Who bars the blessed sunshine out, And shuts the shadows in. The clouds may wear their saddest robes, The sun refuses to smile, And sorrow, with her troop of ills, May threaten us the while; But still the cheerful heart has power A sunbeam to provide, And only those whose souls are dark, Dwell on life's shady side. Then wear a happy heart, my friend, And fix your faith above; A Heavenly Father may afflict, But does it all in love. And they who strive to do His will, And read His word aright, With songs of triumph on their lips, Walk always in the light.
One great source of failure is found in a lack of concentration of purpose. There will be adverse winds in every voyage, but the able seaman firmly resists their influence, while he takes advantage of every favorable breeze to speed him on his course. So in our aims and pursuits we shall find much to counteract them, much to draw our attention from them, and, unless we are armed with a steadfast purpose, that can subordinate the lesser to the greater, that can repel hindrances, resist attractions, and bend circumstances to our will, our efforts will not be crowned with success.
The test of a man is the fight that he makes, the grit that he daily shows; the way that he stands on his feet and takes fates numerous bumps and blows. A coward can smile when theres naught to fear and nothing his progress bars, but it takes a man to stand up and cheer when the other fellow stars. It isnt the victory after all, but the fight that a brother makes. The man who, driven against the wall, still stands erect and takes the blows of fate with his head held high, bleeding and bruised and pale. Hes the man wholl win in the by and by, for he isnt afraid to fail. Its the bumps you get and the shocks, you get and the jolts that your courage stands; the hours of sorrow and vain regrets, the prize that escapes your hand that tests your metal and proves your worth. It isnt the blows that you deal, its the blows you take on this good old earth that show if your stuff is real.
As Easter time approaches, let me share with you the tender story of an eleven-year-old boy named Philip, a Down's syndrome child who was in a Sunday School class with eight other children. Easter Sunday the teacher brought an empty plastic egg for each child. They were instructed to go out of the church building onto the grounds and put into the egg something that would remind them of the meaning of Easter. All returned joyfully. As each egg was opened there were exclamations of delight at a butterfly, a twig, a flower, a blade of grass. Then the last egg was opened. It was Philip's, and it was empty! Some of the children made fun of Philip. 'But, teacher,' he said, 'teacher, the tomb was empty.' A newspaper article announcing Philip's death a few months later noted that at the conclusion of the funeral eight children marched forward and put a large empty egg on the small casket. On it was a banner that said, 'The tomb was empty.'
The true gentleman is God's servant. The world's master and his own man. Virtue is his business, study his recreation. Contentment his rest and happiness his reward. God is his father, Jesus Christ his Savior, the Saints his brethren, and all that need him his friends. Devotion is his chaplain, chastity his chamberlain, sobriety his butler, temperance his work, hospitality his housekeeper, providence his steward, purity his mistress of the house, and discretion his porter, to be let in and out as most fit; thus is his whole family made up of virtue and he is the master of the house.
A farmer purchased an old, rundown, abandoned farm with plans to turn it into a thriving enterprise. The fields were grown over with weeds, the farmhouse was falling apart, and the fences were broken down. During his first day of work, the town preacher stops by to bless the man's work, saying, 'May you and God work together to make this the farm of your dreams!' A few months later, the preacher stops by again to call on the farmer. Lo and behold, it's a completely different place. The farm house is completely rebuilt and in excellent condition, there is plenty of cattle and other livestock happily munching on feed in wellfenced pens, and the fields are filled with crops planted in neat rows. 'Amazing!' the preacher says. 'Look what God and you have accomplished together!' 'Yes, reverend,' says the farmer, 'but remember what the farm was like when God was working it alone!'
If we could know Which of us, beloved, would be first to go, Who would be first to break the swelling tide, And step alone upon the other side If we could know! If it were you, Should I walk softly, keeping death in view? Should I my love to you more oft express? Or should I grieve you, beloved, any less If it were you! If it were I, Should I improve the moments slipping by! Should I more closely follow God's great plan, Be filled with sweeter charity to man If it were I! If we could know! We cannot, beloved, end 'tis better so. I should forget, just as I do today, And walk along the same old stumbling way lf I could know. I would not know Which of us, beloved, will be the first to go, I only wish the space may not be long Between the parting and the greeting song; But when, or where, or how we're called to go I would not know.
Words That Encourage Darkness and The Adversary: Angry, Antagonistic, Appetites, Arrogant, Confused, Contention, Covetous, Critical, Depressed, Domineering, Doubt, Easily Offended, Evasive, Fear, Frustrated, Harshness, Impatience, Ineffective, Irritable, Jealousy, Negative, Pessimistic, Possessive, Resentful, Secretive, Self-C entered, Selfish, Troubled, Uncontrolled, Unhappy, Vindictive,
Words That Encourage Light and The Spirit of The Lord: Believing, Calmness, Charity, Cheerful, Contrite, Contrition, Faith, Forgiving, Generous, Gentleness, Giving, Happy, Humility, Joy, Kindness, Longsuffering, Loving, Meekness, Nurturing, Oneness, Openness, Optimistic, Patience, Peaceful, Positive, Prayer, Sacrifice, Selfless, Sharing, Thankful, Trusting, Worship,
Certain cereals and pulses (legumes) were domesticated in very ancient times. In about 8000 BC in the Fertile Crescent of the Near and Middle East (present-day Syria, Iran, Iraq, Turkey, Jordan, Israel), wheats, barley, lentil, pea, bitter vetch, chick-pea, and possibly faba bean, were brought into cultivation by the Neolithic people. These crops spread from the point of origin. Archaeological evidence indicates that the wheats, and some of the legumes, had reached Greece by 6000 BC and evidence of their presence within that millennium has been found in the Danube Basin, the Nile valley, and the Indian subcontinent (Pakistan). Dispersal continued throughout Europe, the crops reaching Britain and Scandinavia in 4,000-2,000 BC.
He has renounced all selfish attachments and observes no rites and ceremonies. He has only minimum possessions, and lives his life for the welfare of all. He has no staff nor tuft nor sacred thread. He faces heat and cold, pleasure and pain, honor and dishonor with equal calm. He is not affected by calumny, pride, jealousy, status, joy, or sorrow, greed, anger, or infatuation, excitement, egoism or other goads; for he knows that he is neither body nor mind... The Lord is his true home ... for he has entered the unitive state. Having renounced every selfish desire, he has found his rest in the Lord of Love.... He offers no ancestral oblations; he praises nobody, blames nobody, is never dependent on anyone. He has no need to repeat the mantram, no more need to practice meditation. The world of change and changeless Reality are one to him, for he sees all in God.
People will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. Turn up your driveway, not even sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door, as innocent as children, longing for the past. 'Of course we won't mind if you look around,' you'll say, 'it's only twenty dollars per person.' They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it, for it is money they have and peace they lack. They'll walk off to the bleachers, sit in their shirt sleeves on a perfect afternoon. [They'll] find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game. It'll be as if they've dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.
He is fire and the sun, and the moon and the stars. He is the air and the sea, and the Creator, Prajapati. He is this boy, he is that girl, he is this man, he is that woman, and he is this old man, too, tottering on his staff. His face is everywhere. He is the blue bird, he is the green bird with red eyes; he is the thundercloud, and he is the seasons and the seas. He has no beginning, he has no end. He is the source from which the worlds evolve. From his divine power comes forth all this magical show of name and form, of you and me, which casts the spell of pain and pleasure. Only when we pierce through this magic veil do we see the One who appears as many.
The supreme Self is neither born nor dies. He cannot be burned, moved, pierced, cut, nor dried. Beyond all attributes, the supreme Self is the eternal witness, ever pure, indivisible, and uncompounded, far beyond the senses and the ego.... He is omnipresent, beyond all thought, without action in the external world, without action in the internal world. Detached from the outer and the inner, This supreme Self purifies the impure.
