Love’s Perfect Will- No Duty but a Joy

I cannot see, my God, a reason whyFrom morn to night I go not gladsome free;

For, if thou art what my soul thinketh thee,

There is no burden but should lightly lie,

No duty but a joy at heart must be:

Love’s perfect will can be nor sore nor small,

For God is light—in him no darkness is at all.

The Shadow of Self


“I know well what aileth you, for I am myself but now recovering from a similar sickness, brought upon me by the haunting of the same evil one who torments you.’
‘You think, then, that I am possessed?’ said Rowland, with a faint smile and a glance at Dorothy.

‘That verily thou art, and grievously tormented. Shall I tell thee who hath possessed thee?—for the demon hath a name that is known amongst men, though it frighteneth few, and draweth many, alas! His name is Self, and he is the shadow of thy own self. First he made thee love him, which was evil, and now he hath made thee hate him, which is evil also. But if he be cast out and never more enter into thy heart, but remain as a servant in thy hall, then wilt thou recover from this sickness, and be whole and sound, and shall find the varlet serviceable.”

Excerpt From: MacDonald, George. “St. George and St. Michael.” iBooks. 

This material may be protected by copyright.
Check out this book on the iBooks Store: https://itun.es/us/k-G5D.l

New Light

The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er; 

So calm are we when passions are no more. 

For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. 
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes         
Conceal that emptiness which age descries. 

 The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,

Lets in new light through chinks that time has made: 
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become, 
As they draw near to their eternal home.         
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
That stand upon the threshold of the new.

Edmund Waller, 
From “Verses upon His Divine Poesy”

We have life, and spirit in us always, for without them we would not exist. But then there is the Divine Life, and the Holy Spirit. And when that Spirit and that Life come into us, then do we truly live, then do we rise into that higher realm of Christ-life, and walk as Children of God among men. 

— Lord, give us your life, and send to us your Holy Spirit that we may begin to truly live. Help us to so live that your Spirit may dwell in us, and that we may be such as can be filled with that Spirit and Life we need so much. 

– Watergirl 🌸

Wake me Oftener…

Therefore I make provision, ere I begin
     To do the thing thou givest me to do,

     Praying,—Lord, wake me oftener, lest I sin.

     Amidst my work, open thine eyes on me,

     That I may wake and laugh, and know and see

     Then with healed heart afresh catch up the clue,

     And singing drop into my work anew. 
– George MacDonald

The Thing that Hurts

“…While one’s good opinion of himself remains untroubled, confesses no touch, gives out no hollow sound, shrinks not self-hurt with the doubt of its own reality, hostile criticism will not go very deep, will not reach to the quick. The thing that hurts is that which sets trembling the ground of self-worship, lays bare the shrunk cracks and wormholes under the golden plates of the idol, shows the ants running about in it, and renders the foolish smile of the thing hateful. But he who will then turn away from his imagined self, and refer his life to the hidden ideal self, the angel that ever beholds the face of the Father, shall therein be made whole and sound, alive and free.”
Excerpt From: MacDonald, George. “St. George and St. Michael.” iBooks. 

This material may be protected by copyright.
Check out this book on the iBooks Store: https://itun.es/us/k-G5D.l