• “As the storm bursts over the world, do you know where He wants you to hide? Just in Him.” – Martha Wing Robinson

A Mother’s Gift: or, A Wreath for my Darlings by Phoebe Palmer

Phoebe wrote of this after the loss of their first child, at the age of nine months. He was born September 1828.

He was indeed a lovely flower,
Although of pallid hue,
Whilst love maternal, “magic power,”
Beheld new beauties every hour,
Unfolding to its view.

. . . . .

But soon still small voice from Heaven,
Whispered in accents mild, —
The blessing of mercy given,
But ah! it draws the heart from Heaven,
Thou must resign thy child.

. . . . . .

Oh! then the sad, the rending stroke,
As in the “midnight” came,
Affection’s tender ties were broke,
Which might have loosed when mercy spoke
And not have given such pain.

The flower transplanted in the skies,
From sorrow’s blast is riven,
The parents’ chastened, earthly love,
Their better hopes, transferred above,
Are centered now in Heaven.

Oh! there our Alexander lives,
Where beauty’s bud ne’er dies!
Though snatched from love’s maternal arms,
He’s safe from all impending harms,
And calls us to the skies.

 

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  • “I think of the love of God as a great river, pouring through us even as the waters pour through our ravine at floodtime. Nothing can keep this love from pouring through us, except of course our own blocking of the river. Do you sometimes feel that you have got to the end of your love for someone who refuses and repulses you? Such a thought is folly, for one cannot come to the end of what one has not got. We have no store of love at all. We are not jugs, we are riverbeds.” – Amy Carmichael

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Verse of the Day

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. — Galatians 3:28 (NKJV)

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