Monday, June 3, 2013

"June day, bloom day, day of the wild rose flower and leaf, day of sky & singing stream..."

He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills…by them shall the birds of the heavens have their habitation which sing among the branches.  He watereth the hills from His chambers: the earth is satisfied with the fruit of Thy works.…the trees of the LORD are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon, which He hath planted; where the birds make their nests…O LORD, how manifold are Thy works!  In wisdom hast Thou made them all: the earth is full of Thy riches…The glory of the LORD shall endure forever: the LORD shall rejoice in His works.                            
   PSALM 104: 10, 12-13, 16-17, 24, 31

O sing a song of Nazareth, of sunny days of joy;
O sing of fragrant flowers’ breath, and of the sinless Boy.
For now the flowers of Nazareth in every heart may grow;
Now spreads the fame of His dear name on all the winds that blow.

O sing a song of Galilee, of lake and woods and hill,
Of Him who walked upon the sea and bade the waves be still.
For though like waves on Galilee, dark seas of trouble roll,
When faith has heard the Master’s Word, falls peace upon the soul.

June for the wild rose blooming!  June never wears at her throat other than a wild rose flower, nor could a colorist like Titian conjure up a tint more enticing than the wild rose tint.  It is the sunrise pink the wild rose bush has had the genius to paint its blossoms with. June is the rose month, I do not forget that. But God’s calendar is not made by things men grow but by things God grows Himself…. Wild roses, gentle of perfume, flushed like the cheeks of a happy girl, petal dainty as cut by some skilled lapidist from sardonyx freighted with wonder.  Simplicity is the heritage of violet and wild rose.  They are so satisfying as they bloom in the wild that any finger's touch on them is like a finger touch on the frost on a grape cluster.  Thickets of wild roses on June ravine sides or ravine beds or clumps of them across a pasture field where the flocks are feeding, rose thickets smiling out in perfumed laughter.
        O day in June when the wild rose blooms and the wind strays indolent as drowsy thoughts and the blue sky has its upleap of wonder, and the bird nesting in the rose thickets tosses on a spragly bit of rose branch and sings its madrigal in pure joy of life and nest and rose in bloom and love~when the rose thickets bloom and June days laugh out loud, heaven is nearer than the white clouds sailing fleets across the sky.  Such days are raptures.  They come but never go.  They live through all the stress and fret of winter tempests.  June day, bloom day, day of the wild rose flower and leaf, day of sky and singing stream, June wear thy wild rose flower against thy throat now and forever.
                                                                                                                        WILLIAM A. QUAYLE
God's Calendar~1907
This devotional is dedicated to Anna Taylor, born on this day with rose colored cheeks.

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