Posted: Wed Jun 21, 2006 9:25 am Post subject: Heart's Garden
"That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace:" Psalm 144.12
Heart's Garden
Katherine Merrill
My heart is a garden where thought flowers grow.
The thoughts that I think are the seeds that I sow.
Every kind loving thought bears a kind loving deed,
And a thought that is selfish is just like a weed.
So I must watch what I think each minute, each day,
Pull out the weed thoughts and throw them away,
And plant loving seed thoughts so thick in a row,
There will not be room for weed thoughts to grow.
Words of wisdom to a gardener or to anyone else...
Many things love to come and live off your plants, including bacteria, bugs, birds, and bunnies. If you don't control them, entire crops can be ruined. The result of your careful cultivation, in your garden and in your life, can be lost to predators in a short time. ... Take a look at your life, what toxic relationships, substances and emotions are feeding on your energy and taking away from what you have to give to others. Eliminate them.
- Vivian Elisabeth Glyck
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
The pure, the bright, the beautiful
that stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The streams of love and truth,
The longing after something lost,
The spirit's longing cry,
The striving after better hopes—
These things can never die.
The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need;
A kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed;
The plea for mercy softly breathed,
When justice threatens high,
The sorrow of a contrite heart—
These things shall never die.
Let nothing pass, for every hand
Must find some work to do,
Lose not a chance to waken love—
Be firm and just and true.
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high,
And angel voices say to thee—
"These things shall never die."
A Rainbow Remembered “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father…” James 1:17 KJV
Memories are a gift from God. For instance, remembering the summer that had been a scorcher, the air extra dry. Plants drooped and farmers feared for their crops. Then finally one night the rain came—not as a storm or with beating fury, but gently and tenderly. It continued most of the next day, soaking the ground and saturating thirsty roots. Then, as quickly as it started, it ceased, and the late afternoon sun came out. Memories of holding grandma’s hand that day walking out of the house and into the field fill the mind. “Smell the air,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “See how tall the daylilies stand, as if they feel stronger.”
“Oh, look,” grandma cried rounding the corner of the barn, “a rainbow!” She spoke about God’s love as she explained the arch of color stretching from horizon to horizon, soaring almost to the zenith.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, kneeling down. “The rain we needed so badly, then the sun, and now this beautiful rainbow.”
When asked, “Do you know what makes a rainbow?” Grandma began tracing the rainbow from end to end, then she suddenly stopped and turning her face and shinning eyes to the child she loved, said: “Of course I do, darling. God made it for us because He loves us so much.”
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