Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Matthew 6:32

"Sing on, sing on from the top of your desolate tree, oh little bird of cheerfulness and hope!
 Pour out again that heaven-taught music of contentment with the hour that now is. 
Shalt thou be confident of protection, and man be destitute of hope? 
Shalt thou, in the the depth of thy winter's trial, have joy and peace, and man never look beyond the cloud?"

Margaret Gatty, "Daily Bread" story in Parables of Nature

Friday, November 6, 2015

Bruce and the Spider: A Tale in Persistence
(To be used as an exercise in placing punctuation.)

     There was once a king of Scotland whose name was Robert Bruce The king of England was at war with him and had led a great army into Scotland to drive him out of the land Six times had Bruce led his brave little army against his foes and six times had his men been beaten At last his army was scattered and he was forced to hide himself in the woods

     One rainy day Bruce lay on the ground under a rude shed He was ready to give up all hope As he lay thinking he saw a spider over his head making ready to weave her web he watched her as she toiled slowly and with great care Six times she tried to throw her frail thread from one beam to another and six times it fell short

     Poor thing said Bruce You too know what it is to fail

     But the spider did not lose hope with the sixth failure With still more care she made ready to try for the seventh time Would she fail again No The thread was carried safely to the beam and fastened

     I too will try a seventh time cried Bruce

     He arose a called his men together He told them of his plans and sent them out with messages of cheer to his disheartened people Soon there was an army of brave Scotchmen around him Another battle was fought and the king of England was glad to go back into his own country

     The lesson which the little creature had taught the king was never forgotten

Her hair a flowing chestnut hue

Sweet Emily on Matthew's wedding day

Her hair a flowing chestnut hue;
Braided, tussled and nestled upon her faire head.
Wearing a royal gown in splendid shade of blue;
Wrapped in a mossy green shawl given her by you.

Demurely standing by the emerald hedgerow green,
In the early morning light of a very new day.
Hands clasped, eyes downcast;
A gentle breeze passes, carrying the moments of time away.

Sweetly she stands: patient and still;
Watching the fluttering, tiny leaves
of the emerald hedgerow green.
This girl, my sweet girl, shoulders wrapped in sunlight
dressed in a splendid blue,
with her hair
a flowing