Robert Bruce died 1329.
George Bryan (Beau Brummel) born 1778.
Rev. W.D. Conybeare born 1787.
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the
dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow’s
glory is shed.
When the lute is broken
Sweet tones are
remembered not;
When the lips have spoken
Loved accents
are soon forgot.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley.
A slip of the rose may take
root, and bring forth a bloom to give
peace to the soul. A
slip of the tongue may take root, and bring
forth a thorn that will torture
the soul.
—M.B.S.
Abide in me, and I in you.
As the branch cannot bear fruit of
itself, except it abide in
the vine; so neither can ye, except ye
abide in me.
—John 15. 4.
Many of us, O Father, overlook the fragrance of the rose while we are being pierced by its thorn. Increase my faith in life and in thee, that I may not be dismayed over mysteries, but sincerely wait for deliverance. Amen.
JUNE EIGHTH
Mohammed died 632.
Thomas Rickman born 1776.
Charles Reade born 1814.
John Everett Millais born 1829.
If one touch of nature makes
the whole world kin, methinks that
sweet and wonderful thing
sympathy is not less powerful. What golden
barriers, what ice of centuries,
it can melt in a moment!
—Charles Reade.
If I had two loaves of bread,
I would sell one to buy white
hyacinths to feed my soul.
—Mohammed.
What do you live for if it
is not to make life less difficult for
each other?
—George Eliot.
Pure religion and undefiled
before our God and Father is this, to
visit the fatherless and widows
in their affliction, and to keep
oneself unspotted from the
world.
—James 1. 27.
My Father, help me to understand that kind hearts and willing hands are made possible by the depth and greatness of thy love. May I possess the spirit of forgiveness and consideration, that I may not hold prejudice and revenge, but help with sympathy and tenderness. Amen.
JUNE NINTH
George Stephenson born 1781.
John Howard Payne born 1791.
Richard D. Blackmore born 1825.
Charles Dickens died 1870.
Reflect upon your present
blessings of which every man has many; not
upon your past misfortunes,
of which all have some.
—Charles Dickens.
’Mid pleasures and palaces
though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there’s
no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems
to hallow us there,
Which, sought through the
world, is ne’er met with elsewhere.
Home! home! sweet,
sweet home!
There’s
no place like home!