"Blessed of My Father," that is our eternal name!

 “Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…”

Matthew 25:34

“Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Luke 12:32

Whither, ‘midst falling dew,

While glows the heavens with the last steps of day,

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue

Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler’s eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,

As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,

Thy figure floats along.

Seek’st thou the plashy brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink

On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, --

The desert and illimitable air, --

Lone  wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fann’d

At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere;

 Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,

Though the dark of night is near.

And soon that toil shall end,

Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest,

And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend

Soon o’er thy sheltered nest.

Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou has given,

And shall not soon depart.

He, who, from zone to zone,

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,

In the long way that I must tread alone,

Will lead my steps aright.

“To a Waterfowl”

 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

         The soul that shuts itself and holds its peace while the world is near grows securer in silence of contemplation, and lets out its gentle thoughts and whispering joys, its hopes or sad fears, unto the listening ear and before the kindly eye of God!  But in souls which have caught something of the beauty of the divine life, prayer in many of its moods becomes more than this. There are times of yearning and longing, far beyond the help of the most hopeful.  There is a prayer which is the voice of the soul pleading its birthright, crying out for its immortality; it is heavenly homesickness.

HENRY WARD BEECHER

1813-1887

"Blessed of My Father," that is our eternal name!  How those words come to us in the tingling stillness of the night, when panic fears oppress our loneliness, and so strangely vex our souls!  How they rise soft and clear above the tolling of the world, in hours of weariness and obstinate temptation!  How they sing songs to the fear of death, and lull it when it wakens and cries, "Blessed of My Father!"

F.W. FABER

1815-1863

                                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                                                           

"The greater the love, the greater the sorrow..."

He was despised and rejected by men;

A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

And as one from whom men hide their faces,

He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.

 Surely He has borne our griefs,

And carried our sorrows;

Yet we esteemed Him stricken,

Smitten by God, and afflicted.

But He was pierced for our transgressions;

He was crushed for our iniquities;

Upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace,

And by His stripes we are healed.

Isaiah 53:3-5

O sacred head, now wounded,

With grief and shame weighed down,

Now scornfully surrounded

With thorns, Thine only crown;

O sacred head, what glory!

What bliss, till now was Thine!

Yet, though despised and gory,

I joy to call Thee mine.

What language shall I borrow,

To thank Thee, dearest Friend,

For this, Thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?

Oh! make me Thine forever,

And should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never

Outlive my love to Thee.

BERNARD of CLAIRVAUX

His claims were ridiculed, His words of wisdom thrown back on Himself; none were so poor but could afford to despise Him as lower than they, His love was repulsed, surely He drank the bitterest cup of contempt. All His life He walked in the solitude of uncomprehended aims, and at His hour of extremist need appealed in vain for a little solace of companionship, and was deserted by those whom He trusted most. His was a lifelong martyrdom inflicted by men. His was a lifelong solitude which was most utter at the last. And He brought it all on Himself because He would be God’s Servant in being men’s Saviour….

         We shall not rightly estimate the sorrowfulness of Christ’s sorrows, unless we bring to our meditations on them the other thought of His joys. How great these were we can judge, when we remember that He told the disciples that by His joy remaining in them their joy would be full. As much joy then as human nature was capable of from perfect purity, filial obedience, trust, and unbroken communion with God, so much was Jesus’ permanent experience. The golden cup of His pure nature was ever full to the brim with the richest wine of joy. And that constant experience of gladness in the Father and in Himself made more painful the sorrows which He encountered, like a biting wind shrieking round Him, whenever He passed out from fellowship with God in the stillness of His soul into the contemptuous and hostile world. His spirit carrying with it the still atmosphere of the Holy Place, would feel more keenly than any other would have done the jarring tumult of the crowds, and would know a sharper pain when met with greetings in which was no kindness. Jesus was sinless, His sympathy with all sorrow was thereby rendered abnormally keen, and He made others’ griefs His own with an identification born of a sympathy which the most compassionate cannot attain. The greater the love, the greater the sorrow of the loving heart when its love is spurned. The intenser the yearning for companionship, the sharper the pang when it is repulsed. The more one longs to bless, the more one suffers when his blessings are flung off. Jesus was the most sensitive, the most sympathetic, the most loving soul that ever dwelt in flesh. He saw, as none other has ever seen, man’s miseries. He experienced, as none else has ever experienced, man’s ingratitude, and, therefore, though God, even His God, ‘anointed Him with the oil of gladness above His fellows,’ He was ‘a Man of Sorrows,’ and grief was His companion during all His life’s course.

ALEXANDER MACLAREN

Sermons on Isaiah

God Wants to Unburden Your Soul of Guilt

Then He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

…Then He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you.

Go in peace.”

Luke 7:48,50

“I have swept away your transgressions like a cloud.

I have scattered your sins like the morning mist.

Oh, return to Me, for I have paid the price to set you free.”

Sing, O heavens, for the LORD has done this wondrous thing.

Shout for joy, O depths of the earth!

Break into song, O mountains and forests and every tree!

Isaiah 44:22-3

I hear the Savior say,

Thy strength indeed is small;

Child of weakness, watch and pray,

Find in Me thine all in all.

Jesus paid it all,

All to Him I owe;

Sin had left a crimson stain,

He washed it white as snow.

For nothing good have I

Whereby Thy grace to claim,

I’ll wash my garments white

In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.

And now complete in Him

My robe His righteousness,

Close sheltered ’neath His side,

I am divinely blest.

Elvina Hall~1865

         God is not against you but for you, in all the struggles of life; He wants you to get through safe; wants you to succeed; wants you to conquer; and He will hear your cry out of the deep and help you. And therefore when you find yourselves wrong, utterly wrong, do not cry to this man or that man, “Do you help me; do you set me a little more right before God comes….” Cry to God Himself, to Christ Himself; ask Him to lift you up; ask Him to set you right. Do not be like St. Peter before his conversion, and cry, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord; wait a little till I have risen up, and washed off my stains, and made myself somewhat fit to be seen.”-- No. Cry, “Come quickly, O Lord ­­-- at once -- just because I am a sinful man; just because I am sore let and hindered in running my race by my own sins and wickedness; because I am lazy and stupid; because I am perverse and vicious, therefore raise up Thy power, and come to me, Thy miserable creature, Thy lost child, and with Thy great might succour me. Lift me up, because I have fallen very low; deliver me, for I have plunged out of Thy sound and safe highway into deep mire where no ground is. Help myself I cannot, and if Thou help me not, I am undone.”

         Do so. Pray so. Let your sins and wickedness be to you not a reason for hiding from Christ, who stands by; but a reason, the reason of all reasons, for crying to Christ, who stands by. And then, whether He delivers you by gentle means or by sharp ones, deliver you He will, and set your feet on firm ground, and order your goings, that you may run with patience the race which is set before you along the road of life and the pathway of God’s commandments wherein there is no death.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

Out of the Deep

 “The fact is, that the same moment which brings the consciousness of sin ought to bring also the confession and the consciousness of forgiveness...”

HANNAH WHITALL SMITH

Learning Christ as we Suffer in the Deep~

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.

Ephesians 4:32

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.  Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.

Romans 12:15-16

O Thou who dost to man accord

His highest prize, his best reward,

Thou hope of all our race;

Jesus, to Thee we now draw near,

Our earnest supplications hear,

Who humbly seek Thy face.

With self accusing voice within,

Our conscience tells of many a sin

In thought, and word, and deed:

O cleanse that conscience from all stain,

The penitent restore again,

From every burthen freed.

O blessèd Trinity, bestow

Thy pardoning grace on us below,

And shield us evermore;

Until, within Thy courts above,

We see Thy face, and sing Thy love,

And with Thy saints adore.

GREGORY I

540-604

         On the torturing cross Christ prayed for His murderers, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And this is the character many a man may get in the dark deep.  To feel for all, to feel with all; to rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep, to understand people’s trials and make allowances for their temptations; to put oneself in their place till we see with their eyes, and feel with their hearts, till we judge no man, and have hope for all; to be fair and patient and tender with everyone we meet; to despise no one, despair of no one, because Christ despises none and despairs of none; to look on every one we meet with love, almost with pity, because they too may have been down into the deep of horror, or may go down into it any day; to see our own sins in the sins of others, to feel that we might do what they do, and feel as they feel at any moment; to give and forgive, live and let live, even as Christ gives to us and forgives us, and lives for us and lets us live in spite of all our sins.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

Out of the Deep

Oh, For Peace in the Midst of Our Storms

You will keep him in perfect peace,

​​Whose mind is stayed on You,

​​Because he trusts in You.

 ​​Trust in the LORD forever,

​​For in YAHEH, the LORD, is the Rock of Ages.

Isaiah 26:3-4

My spirit on Thy care,

Blest Savior, I recline;

Thou wilt not leave me to despair,

For Thou art Love divine.

Whate’er events betide,

Thy will they all perform;

Safe in Thy breast my head I hide,

Nor fear the coming storm.

Let good or ill befall,

It must be good for me;

Secure of having Thee in all,

Of having all in Thee.

My Spirit on Thy Care

H.F. Lyte

         The storm which now began to sweep over the barren hills; the winds that rushed howling down the ravines; the lake before Him buffeted into tempestuous foam; the little boat which—as the moonlight struggled through the rifted clouds—He saw tossing beneath Him on the labouring waves, were all too sure an emblem of the altered aspects of His earthly life.  But there on the desolate hilltop, in that night of storm, He could gain strength and peace unspeakable; for there He was alone with God. And so over that figure bowed in lonely prayer upon the hills, and over those toilers upon the troubled lake, the darkness fell and the great winds blew.

         Hour after hour passed by.  It was now the fourth watch of the night; the ship had traversed but half of its destined course; it was dark, and the wind was contrary, and the waves boisterous, and they were distressed with toiling at the oar; above all, there was no one with them now to calm and save, for Jesus was alone upon the land. Alone upon the land, and they were tossing on the perilous sea; but all the while He saw and pitied them, and at last, in their worst extremity, they saw a gleam in the darkness, and an awful figure, and a fluttering robe, and One drew near them, treading upon the ridges of the sea, but seemed as if He meant to pass them by. They cried out in terror at the sight, thinking that it was a ghost that walked upon the waves. But through the storm and darkness to them—as so often to us, when, amid the darknesses of life, the ocean seems so great and our little boats so small—there thrilled that Voice of peace, which said, “It is I: be not afraid.”

         That Voice stilled their terrors, and they were eager to receive Him into the ship; but Peter’s impetuous love—the strong yearning of him who, in his despairing self-consciousness, had cried out, “Depart from me!”—now cannot even await His approach, and he passionately exclaims—

         “Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the water.”

         “Come!”

         Over the vessel’s side into the troubled waves he sprang, and while his eye was fixed on his Lord, the wind might toss his hair, and the spray might drench his robes, but all was well; but when, with wavering faith, he glanced from Him to the furious waves, and to the gulfy blackness underneath, he began to sink, and in an accent of despair —how unlike his former confidence! —he faintly cried, “Lord, save me!” Nor did Jesus fail. Instantly, with a smile of pity, He stretched out His hand, and grasped the hand of His drowning disciple, with the gentle rebuke, “O thou of little faith, why didst thou doubt?” And so, they climbed into the boat; and the wind lulled, and amid the ripple of waves upon a moonlit shore, they were at the haven where they would be; and all—the crew as well as His disciples—were filled with deeper and deeper amazement, and some of them, addressing Him by a title which Nathanael alone had applied to Him before, exclaimed, “Truly Thou art the Son of God.”

         Oh, if we feel, often and often, that the water-floods threaten to drown us, and the deep to swallow up the tossed vessel of our Faith, may it again and again be granted us to hear amid the storm, and the darkness, and the voices prophesying war, those two sweetest of the Saviour’s utterances—

         “Fear not.  Only believe.”

         “It is I.   Be not afraid.”

F.W. FARRAR

The Life of Christ

"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.

LOUIS F. BENSON-1899

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.

Oh, for a Fresh Vision of Eternal Springtime

"For you will go out with joy and be led forth with peace; the mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”

Isaiah 55:12

Gone were but the Winter;

Come were but the Spring,

I would go to a covert

Where the birds sing;

Where in the whitehorn

Singeth the thrush,

And a robin sings

In a holly-bush.

Full of sweet scents,

And whispering air

Which sayeth softly:

“We spread no snare;

“Here dwell in safety,

Here dwell alone,

With a clear stream

And a mossy stone.

“Here the sun shineth

Most shadily;

Here is heard an echo

Of the far sea,

Though far off it be.”

~CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

Holiness appeared to me to be of a sweet, pleasant, calm nature.  It seemed to me…that it made the soul like a field or garden of God, with all manner of pleasant flowers—all pleasant, delightful and undisturbed; enjoying a sweet calm, and the gently vivifying beams of the sun.

The souls of a true Christian appeared like such a little white flower as we see in the spring of the year—low and humble on the ground—opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of the sun’s glory—rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture—diffusing around a sweet fragrancy.

         Once I rode out into the woods for my health.  Having alighted from my horse in a retired place as my manner commonly had been, to walk for divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view—that was for me extraordinary—of the glory of the Son of God. As near as I can judge, this continued about an hour; and kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be—what I know not otherwise how to express—empted and annihilated; to love Him with a holy and pure love; to serve and follow Him; to be perfectly sanctified, and made pure with a divine and heavenly purity.

~JONATHAN EDWARDS