SAINTS are like roses when they flush rarest,
Saints are like lilies when they bloom fairest,
Saints are like violets sweetest of their kind,
Bear in mind
This to-day. Then to-morrow: --
All like roses rarer than the rarest,
All like lilies fairer than the fairest,
All like violets sweeter than we know.
Be it so.
To-morrow blots out sorrow.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
June 29
FEAST OF ST. PETER, APOSTLE AND MARTYR.
"LOVEST thou Me more than these? . . . Lovest thou Me? . . . Lovest thou Me? . . . " spake to His Apostle the Lord God, the Wise Master, the injured Friend. "Peter was grieved . . . And he said unto Him, Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee."
But if St. Peter knew it, much more Christ. Even throughout the threefold denial, while, it may be, for the moment the fallen saint himself knew it not; yet He who was greater than his heart and knew all things, still knew it.
Then Christ "looked" in love, and Peter went out and wept bitterly. Now Christ questioned in love, and Peter was grieved.
These grievous dealings were the faithful wounds of a friend who loveth at all times: for if the servant loved his Lord, much more that Lord His servant.
Whatever may appear disputable about St. Peter, his love is indisputable. If other branches of study suitable to his Festival are too difficult for us, let us contentedly study love.
But which love, the lesser or the greater? St. Peter himself could by no means love God, except as having been first loved by God.
We shall love St. Peter and all other saints well, when we love our Lord Jesus better still. "Love all for Jesus, but Jesus for Himself," writes a master in the science of love.
And whatever may be doubtful, this remains certain: every man who loves God a little, is loved by Him much: every man who loves God much, is still loved by Him more.
"LOVEST thou Me more than these? . . . Lovest thou Me? . . . Lovest thou Me? . . . " spake to His Apostle the Lord God, the Wise Master, the injured Friend. "Peter was grieved . . . And he said unto Him, Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee."
But if St. Peter knew it, much more Christ. Even throughout the threefold denial, while, it may be, for the moment the fallen saint himself knew it not; yet He who was greater than his heart and knew all things, still knew it.
Then Christ "looked" in love, and Peter went out and wept bitterly. Now Christ questioned in love, and Peter was grieved.
These grievous dealings were the faithful wounds of a friend who loveth at all times: for if the servant loved his Lord, much more that Lord His servant.
Whatever may appear disputable about St. Peter, his love is indisputable. If other branches of study suitable to his Festival are too difficult for us, let us contentedly study love.
But which love, the lesser or the greater? St. Peter himself could by no means love God, except as having been first loved by God.
We shall love St. Peter and all other saints well, when we love our Lord Jesus better still. "Love all for Jesus, but Jesus for Himself," writes a master in the science of love.
And whatever may be doubtful, this remains certain: every man who loves God a little, is loved by Him much: every man who loves God much, is still loved by Him more.
June 28
VIGIL OF THE FEAST OF ST. PETER.
Had not ambition and pride, jealousy and envy, said their say to the embroilment of the subject and the abashing of the meek, would any impartial ordinary reader call in question that some sort of advantage, precedence, preeminence, did according to the inspired Gospel record really and truly appertain to St. Peter?
To deny so much, unless it be false, lands us in Babel, the city of confusion. To ackowledge so much, if it be true, will not by itself "violently turn and toss" us out of our venerable Anglican Mother Church.
This Vigil of St. Peter invites us all to one of two profitable exercises: --whoso holds the truth, let him cleave thereto thankfully: whoso detects or suspects himself as being in error, let him "pray that he may interpret" at least to himself.
Only the envious can be injured by St. Peter's primacy, whatsoever it amounts to.
Only the ambitious can profit by his exaltation above his genuine level.
Now there is nothing injurious in such an injury, nor aught profitable in such a profit.
Had not ambition and pride, jealousy and envy, said their say to the embroilment of the subject and the abashing of the meek, would any impartial ordinary reader call in question that some sort of advantage, precedence, preeminence, did according to the inspired Gospel record really and truly appertain to St. Peter?
To deny so much, unless it be false, lands us in Babel, the city of confusion. To ackowledge so much, if it be true, will not by itself "violently turn and toss" us out of our venerable Anglican Mother Church.
This Vigil of St. Peter invites us all to one of two profitable exercises: --whoso holds the truth, let him cleave thereto thankfully: whoso detects or suspects himself as being in error, let him "pray that he may interpret" at least to himself.
Only the envious can be injured by St. Peter's primacy, whatsoever it amounts to.
Only the ambitious can profit by his exaltation above his genuine level.
Now there is nothing injurious in such an injury, nor aught profitable in such a profit.
June 27
A BISHOP'S Pastoral Staff has two quaint likenesses among natural objects: a curled-up elephant's trunk, and a young budding frond of fern.
There is a theory that the soul within moulds the outer frame. Hence surface similarity suggests a corresponding similarity underlying the surface.
Whence--at least as a harmless fancy--I infer that the Staff may advantageously study an elephant's trunk as a pattern of delicately discriminating tact, copying its nicety of touch in minute matters and its vigorous hold on things broad and weighty.
Whlie the frond will teach ways of bowing gracefully, of being pliant without weakness, of profiting by light and not losing ground in darkness, of bearing storms from any quarter.
. . . But Bishops should write for me, not I for Bishops!
For my own behoof therefore I wind up by reflecting that every Christian is constituted "king and priest" in our Father's kingdom: that in consequence some grade of pastoral work devolves on each of us, if not as a dignity yet as a responsibility; and that as regards every soul within reach of our influence we all are in truth our "brother's keeper."
So that we all may meditate profitably on a Pastoral Staff.
There is a theory that the soul within moulds the outer frame. Hence surface similarity suggests a corresponding similarity underlying the surface.
Whence--at least as a harmless fancy--I infer that the Staff may advantageously study an elephant's trunk as a pattern of delicately discriminating tact, copying its nicety of touch in minute matters and its vigorous hold on things broad and weighty.
Whlie the frond will teach ways of bowing gracefully, of being pliant without weakness, of profiting by light and not losing ground in darkness, of bearing storms from any quarter.
. . . But Bishops should write for me, not I for Bishops!
For my own behoof therefore I wind up by reflecting that every Christian is constituted "king and priest" in our Father's kingdom: that in consequence some grade of pastoral work devolves on each of us, if not as a dignity yet as a responsibility; and that as regards every soul within reach of our influence we all are in truth our "brother's keeper."
So that we all may meditate profitably on a Pastoral Staff.
June 26
IF ever I deciphered a "Parable of Nature" surely I did so one summer night at Meads. The gas was alight in my little room with its paperless bare wall.
On that wall appeared a spider, himself dark and defined, his shadow no less dark and scarcely if at all less defined.
They jerked, zigzagged, advanced, retreated, he and his shadow posturing in ungainly indissoluble harmony. He seemed exasperated, fascinated, desperately endeavoring and utterly helpless.
What could it all mean? One meaning and one only suggested itself. That spider was without recognizing his black double, and was mad to disengage himself from the horrible pursuing inalienable presence.
I stood watching him awhile. (Presumably when I turned off the gas he composed himself.)
To me this self-haunted spider appears a figure of each obstinate impenitent sinner, who having outlived enjoyment remains isolated irretrievable with his own horrible, loathsome self.
And if thus in time, how throughout eternity?
On that wall appeared a spider, himself dark and defined, his shadow no less dark and scarcely if at all less defined.
They jerked, zigzagged, advanced, retreated, he and his shadow posturing in ungainly indissoluble harmony. He seemed exasperated, fascinated, desperately endeavoring and utterly helpless.
What could it all mean? One meaning and one only suggested itself. That spider was without recognizing his black double, and was mad to disengage himself from the horrible pursuing inalienable presence.
I stood watching him awhile. (Presumably when I turned off the gas he composed himself.)
To me this self-haunted spider appears a figure of each obstinate impenitent sinner, who having outlived enjoyment remains isolated irretrievable with his own horrible, loathsome self.
And if thus in time, how throughout eternity?
June 25
LORD, grant me grace to love Thee in my pain,
Through all my disappointment love Thee still,
Thy love my strong foundation and my hill,
Though I be such as cometh not again,
A fading leaf, a spark upon the wane.
So evermore do Thou Thy perfect Will
Beloved through all my good, through all mine ill,
Beloved though all my love beside be vain.
If thus I love Thee, how wilt Thou love me,
Thou Who art greater than my heart? (Amen!)
Wilt Thou bestow a part, withhold a part?
The longing of my heart cries out to Thee,
The hungering, thirsting, longing of my heart:
What I forewent wilt Thou not grant me then?
Through all my disappointment love Thee still,
Thy love my strong foundation and my hill,
Though I be such as cometh not again,
A fading leaf, a spark upon the wane.
So evermore do Thou Thy perfect Will
Beloved through all my good, through all mine ill,
Beloved though all my love beside be vain.
If thus I love Thee, how wilt Thou love me,
Thou Who art greater than my heart? (Amen!)
Wilt Thou bestow a part, withhold a part?
The longing of my heart cries out to Thee,
The hungering, thirsting, longing of my heart:
What I forewent wilt Thou not grant me then?
June 24
FEAST OF THE NATIVITY OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.
"HE was a burning and a shining light: and ye were willing for a season to rejoce in his light," spake our Blessed Lord, honoring His forerunner.
To whom spake He thus? To Jews, mostly unconverted.
Were then those carnal men capable of rejoicing in a luminary which lit up the valley of humiliation, the penitential pathway unto righteousness? Yea, for the Truth hath said it.
And even thus we read elsewhere of King Herod, how he "feared John, knowing that he was a just man and an holy, and observed him; and when he heard him, he did many things, and heard him gladly."
Nevertheless, neither the monarch nor his subjects did the one thing needful: they picked and chose among their sins; of which some may have fared like discarded favorites, while the favorites of the hour were retained.
Half-hearted and double-faced such men resemble husbandmen who prune salient twigs from a poisonous plant, by that very pruning strengthening the deep-seated unattacked root.
So, after a while, Herod slew the Baptist. And again, after a while, Herod mocked the Lord Christ and the Jew crucified Him.
It is then possible (though possible only up to a certain point) for sinners to admire virtue, practise righteousness, approve things more excellent, extol repentance, skim amendment, yet all the time to abide at enmity with God.
It was possible for many of old: it is possile for ourselves of to-day.
"Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and examine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me: and lead me in the way everlasting.
"HE was a burning and a shining light: and ye were willing for a season to rejoce in his light," spake our Blessed Lord, honoring His forerunner.
To whom spake He thus? To Jews, mostly unconverted.
Were then those carnal men capable of rejoicing in a luminary which lit up the valley of humiliation, the penitential pathway unto righteousness? Yea, for the Truth hath said it.
And even thus we read elsewhere of King Herod, how he "feared John, knowing that he was a just man and an holy, and observed him; and when he heard him, he did many things, and heard him gladly."
Nevertheless, neither the monarch nor his subjects did the one thing needful: they picked and chose among their sins; of which some may have fared like discarded favorites, while the favorites of the hour were retained.
Half-hearted and double-faced such men resemble husbandmen who prune salient twigs from a poisonous plant, by that very pruning strengthening the deep-seated unattacked root.
So, after a while, Herod slew the Baptist. And again, after a while, Herod mocked the Lord Christ and the Jew crucified Him.
It is then possible (though possible only up to a certain point) for sinners to admire virtue, practise righteousness, approve things more excellent, extol repentance, skim amendment, yet all the time to abide at enmity with God.
It was possible for many of old: it is possile for ourselves of to-day.
"Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and examine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me: and lead me in the way everlasting.
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