Discontent

"A MAIDEN dwelt in fabled Thrace

So light of form, so fair of face,

So like the spirit of the dew,

The sunbeams would not let her pass,

Nor yield her shadow to the grass:

They kissed her, clasped her, shone her through:

And all wild things for her were tame;

The eagle to her beck'ning came,

The stag forgot that he was fleet,

The cruel little pebbles rolled

Their flinty edges in the mould,

And turned their smoothness to her feet.

Whene'er she slept, the birds were hushed;

And When she woke, the lilies blushed;

The roses paled, for very joy.

'Twas whispered that a star each night

Forsook its heaven, and took delight

To be her jewel or her toy.

Whene'er she wept -- Oh! could she weep?

Could any shade of sorrow creep

O'er one so born to pleasure's throne?

Ah! me, she drowned the brook with tears,

Her sighs come floating down the years,

She taught the wind its minor tone.

Away from marvels, worship, state,

Her yearning gaze burned, desolate,

To where, beyond a chasm's breach,

Upon a pathless crag, there waved

A far-off blossom that she craved, --

The one sole flower - quite out of reach.

Since just that prize she could not gain,

Here whole bright world was bright in vain,

And might in vain her love beseech.

With royal bloom on every side,

She broke her heart, and pined and died; ---

For oh! that one flower out of reach.

F.F. Clark

I never tire of posts like this, reminders that "it is better to give than receive."

Where is our God? You say, He is everywhere: then show me anywhere that you have met him. You declare him everlasting: then tell me any moment that he has been with you. You believe him ready to succor them that are tempted, and to lift those that are bowed down: then in what passionate hour did you subside into his calm grace? In what sorrow lose yourself in his “more exceeding" joy These are the testing questions by which we may learn whether we have raised our altar to an “unknown God" and pay the worship of the blind; or whether we commune with him “in whom we live, and move, and have our being. James Martineau.

  
"If Christ never deemed himself nearer to Heaven than when in the presence of the childlike heart, then the resources of a devout life cannot be remote and of difficult access, but so nigh unto us, that, if we miss them, it is from their close presence rather than their distance. James Martineau. 

"Men never grow up to manhood as an acorn grows up into an oak-tree, Men come to it by re-births in every faculty, again, and again, and again." H.W. Beecher.

I like that, we don't grow a little each day, but rather, we have re-births, spiritual awakenings, new revelations on old truths and new break-throughs we never imagined.

This was sent to me by a 17 year old young lady that grew up with out a loving father. She has faced more adversity in her few years than many ever do, and she has overcome and continues to grow and mature into a responsible, loving girl with a growing faith in God. Sadly in our world this is becoming more common and, perhaps, it is worse when the father is still in the home and yet has no time to love and nurture his children.