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Showing posts from January, 2016

Dancing for the Lord

A Dancing Disciple

The following was written by a 15-year-old Christian. Grace Jaqueline has a marvelous talent as a dancer and she has performed in numerous ballets and musicals.

I believe that God has a divine plan for everything. I believe that He works in our lives to accomplish incredible things before we even know what He has in store for us. However, I also believe that God works most through struggles and hardships. Unfortunately, I think that most frequently we must first be broken for his light to shine in on us, but there is nothing better than when God steps in and takes control.

When I was in the sixth grade my life felt like it was on a road that didn’t go anywhere. I felt like I was never going to be happy, never succeed, and never get to follow my dreams. But to look back on my life since then, I realize that that was one of the most crucial times in my life and that I could never be in the place I am today without that time. And I wouldn’t trade that time for anything. …

Old Man Reading Scripture

Rembrandt painted multiple portraits of old men praying. Here are two of the most famous.

On Rembrandt's Portrait of an Old Man Reading the Scriptures by John Finlay (1941-1991)
Exposure salted his grave Northern face. An unerasable sadness tinged that grace Of sourceless light glowing on solid form. Hard winter nights - the isolating storm - Hiis oil burned out onto the living word. A man matured in loss, in griefs incurred By love outside himself, he would expend His mind on God, still opened to the end.

John Finlay was an Alabama poet and essayist. This poem first appeared in a collection of Finlay's poems titled "Mind and Blood" published a year after his death.

Remembering Jorge Luis Borges

“Writing long books is a laborious and impoverishing act of foolishness: expanding in five hundred pages an idea that could be perfectly explained in a few minutes. A better procedure is to pretend that those books already exist and to offer a summary, a commentary.”– Jorge Luis Borges

"My father was very intelligent, and like all intelligent men, very kind."-- Borges

Alice C. Linsley

Jorge Luis Borges was one of the most unique literary figures of the twentieth century. He blended realism with metaphysics and loved stories that evoked wonder. He penned stories about the gauchos of Argentina, tales with an Eastern flavor, and he lectured on everything from Chinese mysticism to Germanic and Icelandic epics.

It is a great injustice that he died without having received a Nobel Prize for literature. After winning the coveted award in 2010, Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa said: “It makes me a little ashamed to receive the Nobel Prize, given that Borges didn’t receive it.”


Wise Men Follow: A poem by Ed Pacht


Thank you for posting Chesterton’s poem on the Wise Men. I was not familiar with this one. Three of his couplets became the framework for this piece.The three italicized couplets are from his poem.

Wise Men Follow We are the three wise men of yore,     And we know all things but truth.
And so it is with humankind, who standing tall on two strong legs, thinking thoughts with one strong brain, and reaching out with wondrous hands to grasp what we can never grasp, think that we have found the truth, have seen the way, begun to comprehend what is, but have not. We think we know, or that we can think it out, and plumb the depths of this creation, and decide ourselves what is best to do, but, though we’ve partaken of that tree, and have thought by it to be like God, and, though we bear His holy image, we are not God, nor shall we ever be, nor can we really know the truth, unless we know the One who is the Truth.
The way is all so very plain     That we may lose the way.
What we have understood, figured out …

St. Cecilia's Song

The feast day of Saint Cecilia, the Patroness of music, is traditionally celebrated on November 22.  The following poem was written by Ursula Vaughan Williams, an English poet and author, and biographer of her second husband, the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams.

Sing for the morning's joy, Cecilia, sing,
in words of youth and praises of the Spring,
walk the bright colonnades by fountains' spray,
and sing as sunlight fills the waking day;
till angels, voyaging in upper air,
pause on a wing and gather the clear sound
into celestial joy, wound and unwound,
a silver chain, or golden as your hair.

Sing for your loves of heaven and of earth,
in words of music, and each word a truth;
marriage of heart and longings that aspire,
a bond of roses, and a ring of fire.
Your summertime grows short and fades away,
terror must gather to a martyr's death;
but never tremble, the last indrawn breath
remembers music as an echo may.

Through the cold aftermath of centuries,
Cecilia's music d…