Archive for ‘Salutation’

February 9, 2012

Happy Easter Lily

"Happy Easter," lily by Kathy Grimm

Weaving Of Easter Flowers

It is eminently fit that these beautiful flowers, touching the springs of joy and educating the sense of beauty, arranged with such appropriatness by loving and reverent hands, should be about us to-day, filling the chancel and the church with their grateful fragrance. Flowers, the symbols of the fresh, unconsciousness loveliness of children, bloom in field, or garden, or home, or sanctuary with new attractiveness because the Christ-child has been in the world. Symbols of the purity, the sweetness, the gentleness of mature lives, and of the consummate flowering of heroic self-sacrifice, they speak in their mute eloquence with added power to the heart, because He, the perfect man, lived the life which regenerates and died the death which redeems. But a still richer glory is hidden in the inner meaning of these Easter flowers. They are the symbols of the immortality of the true, the beautiful, the good. They have the bloom and the odor of the Eden of love. We place Easter flowers in wreaths and anchors and crosses and crowns above the still forms of our sainted dead, knowing that as they sleep in Jesus, they shall also live and reign with Him forevermore. by Bishop Fallows

February 5, 2012

Welcome Home Baby

Welcome Baby To Our Home by Kathy Grimm


A Child’s Faith

A child’s faith and good will are manifested in connection with his idea of a personal, intelligent power in the world. In the latter part of his fourth year, a little boy was awakened one night by a violent thunder-storm. He was much frightened, and called to his mother with trembling voice, “Mama, God won’t let the thunder hurt us, will He?” When assured that the lightning was governed by God’s laws, and that there was little or no danger, he quieted down and slept soundly during the rest of the storm. So far as was known, this child had never been told that God protected him under such conditions. It was evidently an inference drawn from his own thoughts about the personal influence he felt so pervade the world.

George E. Dawson, “The Child and His Religion.”

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January 27, 2012

Welcome in French

Welcome in French by Kathy Grimm

January 27, 2012

Rejoice Butterfly

Rejoice Butterfly by Kathy Grimm

Resurrection Morning

And early in the morning, we are told by the Evangelists, these same women started to go to the sepulchre to anoint his body, and found out that he was risen. Why, do you think if they had thought he was going to rise that they would have left that sepulchre? They would have lingered around it; it would have taken more than a hundred Roman soldiers to keep those disciples away from the sepulchre, if they thought he was going to rise. Now, early in the gray of the morning, you could see these women going toward the sepulchre. They had got their spices all ready to anoint that body again, and they were greatly troubled, because they did not know who was going to roll away the stone. And you see them as they draw near to the sepulchre; and the sun has just driven away the darkness of the night, and that beautiful morning is bursting upon the earth, the best morning this world had ever seen. And one says to another, “Who shall roll away the stone?” But a messenger came from yon world of light; he flew faster than the morning light, and arrived first. And he rolled away the stone; and those men that had been sent there by Pilate, to watch and guard that sepulchre, began to tremble, and fell as dead men; they hadn’t any power. One angel was enough to roll away that stone; not to let him out, but to let you and I look in to see that the sepulchre was empty, to let the morning light into that sepulchre to light it up that we might know that he is risen, “the first fruits of them that slept.” Yes, thank God, he has conquered Death and the grave; and you can shout now, “O grave, where is thy victory!” He went down into the grave and conquered it, and came up out of it; and now he says, “Because I live, ye shall live also.” by D. L. Moody

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