Look what Christ can do— bound as He was to a cross, weary and strangled in pain, a joke on the lips of man, a curse on the lips of God— death of the Immortal. He died like no one else— the pride of the Father’s eyes, a portal torn in the veil from Satan’s […]
Read more "What Christ Can Do"
He had the hands of a man,
grown from curled-up baby hands
to dirty, in-a-hurry boy hands
to hands that could wield
a hammer and nails;
hands obscured for thirty years
in seas of Jewish hands;
revealed—man-defying Teacher hands,
hands that could hold
and shelter and bleed;
hands, nearer with every breath,
to nail-intruded hands,
to weighed-with-the-sins-of-the-world hands,
the hands still moving,
washing dirt from feet.
His hands are the hands of God,
blameless, righteous, holy hands,
the died-and-lives-forever hands,
the hands that welcome
sinners into life.
Read more "The Hands of Christ"
No darkness, no cross, no death-wound of heart could keep Christ from his friends. They ate and talked and sang and slept while He loved them till the end.
Read more "Till the End"
The winter world is cold— and withered and old— the trees droop, still and bare, in the scathing air, clothed only in gray loss— mourning the leaves lately buried with the frost. … But the sky is soft as mother-love for children wounded of life— it is older than the cold and beautifully, gently bold.
Read more "The Winter Sky"
Love is just a song we think we wrote. Expecting much, but never prizing more, we seek to seize the vial, tip, and pour the joy we want, but never yet could quote Till one day, looking out beyond our moat at cherry blossoms on the other shore we see the longed-for things, despised before […]
Read more "Bridge of Love"
Thank You, Lord, for children— little humans, full of life— laughing, jumping, singing, running; little robbers, demanding money, time, energy, patience; still, little diamonds, worth the cost— their words, their smiles, their hands, their hugs! small, magnificent treasures, lost in the quest for jobs, houses, clothes, cars; little children— made by God— whom Jesus never […]
Read more "Thanksgiving: Children"
Above the clouds— swaying grass, tickled feet; the summit view— sprawling earth-blend art; an eagle passing; the rich, unending sky; the thrill of going heart on heart— forever. –
Read more "joy"
Gentle Father, hold Your child. The stones of life have bruised the heart and left a tear-streaked, trembling face, inconsolable to any other— Your child cries for You. Bend down and brush the tears away, and take Your own into your arms. Lay the wearied on Your shoulder, to comfort with Your daddy-whispers […]
Read more "Gentle Father"
It seems a cold, dark shaft where love would bid me go— deep beneath the hills. The memories, sand-like, blow— a heart-blinding draft. I’ve walked the caves before— walked them with a thief until the stars were gone; I know the haunting grief— and I cannot anymore. But I forget that love, with […]
Read more "Take the Lamp"
She asked the world for love— he gave her pleasure. She asked the world to stay— he left a dagger. –
Read more "Modern Love"