Grace and Truth

…all the words of this life…


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Missionary Quotations – Amy Carmichael4

amy carm

Amy Carmichael opened an orphanage and founded a mission in Dohnavur. She served in India for 55 years without furlough

“Give me the Love that leads the way
The Faith that nothing can dismay
The Hope no disappointments tire
The Passion that’ll burn like fire
Let me not sink to be a clod
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God”


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This is my Beloved, and This is my Friend

Drawn August 2015. Pencil/pastel

Drawn August 2015. Pencil/pastel

He is chief among ten thousand

His head is like finest gold

His body is carved ivory

With sapphires laid in the mould

 

This King of kings

This Lord of lords

Surely none can compare

Yet who may be this blessed one

To Him who is “All Fair”?

 

This is the Bride He’s purchased

With His own spotless blood

There is no blemish in her

She’s made perfect in holy Love

 

The Heavenly Storehouse is opened

To provide a bridal dress

Precious stones to adorn

Sapphire, emerald and amethyst

 

She will be made ready

And will watch for Him and wait

For the King will not tarry long

Time is getting late

 

(Based on Song of Solomon)

 


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100 Years From Now

It will not make much difference, friend, a hundred years from now11219593_10152932989958261_4896805221278485865_n

If you live in a stately mansion or on a river scow;
If the clothes you wear are tailor-made or pieced together somehow,
If you eat big steaks or beans and cake …

A hundred years from now.

It won’t matter your bank account or the make of car you drive,
For the grave will claim all riches and fame and the things for which you strive.

There’s a deadline that we all must meet and no one will be late.
It won’t matter then all the places you’ve been, each one will keep that date.

We will only have in eternity – what we gave away on earth,
When we go the grave, we can only save the things of eternal worth.
What matters, friend, the earthly gain for which some men always bow?
For your destiny will be sealed, you see … a hundred years from now.

By Walden Parker


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The Door is Beginning to Close

The Age of Grace is nearing its end.The-door-is-closing-courtesy-brad-montgomery-at-Flickr-CC-e1325010017923

It’s time to get on board the Ark.

 

There is a storm approaching

A big one.

When God shuts that door

No man can open it again,

Quick get in now/There’s not much time left.

 

The ones already in the Ark:

Preachers of righteousness,

Just like Noah,

Warn the others

Of the coming storm

 

They can see it

It’s on the horizon now

“Come, come!

Flee from the wrath that is to come!”

 

But this time it is not a rain cloud

NO, it’s a fire-storm

A fire so hot that the elements

Will melt with fervent heat

 

The Day of the Lord is at hand

Forget your possessions

Your reputation

Your position

There’s no time anymore

 

Leave it all behind

It’s all gonna be burned by fire

Anyway

Flee to the Ark

 

Redeem the time,

For there’s not much left

 

 

Noah’s Ark is an Old Testament picture of Jesus Christ. Read how so here.


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Satisfied

All my life I had a longing

For a drink from some clear spring,
That I hoped would quench the burning
Of the thirst I felt within.

Feeding on the husks around me,
Till my strength was almost gone,
Longed my soul for something better,
Only still to hunger on.

Poor I was, and sought for riches,
Something that would satisfy,
But the dust I gathered round me
Only mocked my soul’s sad cry.

Hallelujah! I have found Him
Whom my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies my longings,
Through His blood I now am saved.

Well of water, ever springing,
Bread of life so rich and free,
Untold wealth that never faileth,
My Redeemer is to me.

 

Words by Clara T Williams, 1875

You can listen to this song here: https://soundcloud.com/chelseamoonmusic/13-satisfied

 


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In the Secret of His Presence

In the secret of His presence

Source: favim.com

Source: favim.com

  How my soul delights to hide!
Oh, how precious are the lessons
  Which I learn at Jesus’ side!
Earthly cares can never vex me,
  Neither trials lay me low;
For when Satan comes to tempt me,
  To the secret place I go

When my soul is faint and thirsty,
  ’Neath the shadow of His wing
There is cool and pleasant shelter,
  And a fresh and crystal spring;
And my Savior rests beside me,
  As we hold communion sweet;
If I tried, I could not utter
  What He says when thus we meet.

Only this I know: I tell Him
  All my doubts and griefs and fears;
Oh, how patiently He listens!
  And my drooping soul He cheers;
Do you think He ne’er reproves me?
  What a false friend He would be,
If He never, never told me
  Of the sins which He must see.

Would you like to know that sweetness
  Of the secret of the Lord?
Go and hide beneath His shadow;
  This shall then be your reward;
And whene’er you leave the silence
  Of that happy meeting-place,
By the Spirit bear the image
  Of the Master in your face.

Ellen Lakshmi Goreh, 1853


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Rousing the Bride

Now arise My precious Darling,sleeping woman

Wake up you sleepy-head.

It’s time to uncurl from these blankets

To get up out of bed.

 

My Bride, it is morning

The day is far spent

Come rise My love-

Away with Me-

For the time that is left.

 

Open your eyes,

And see the sun

Look – there it is arising

If you look

You will see

Just beyond the horizon

 

I want you to see My love

For whom it is

I came to die.

It is something that will wake you,

But you need to decide,

 

Will you open

Or keep closed shut

Those dear, drowsy eyes?

For to see

Is to share the pain

Of an intercessor’s sighs

 

Out there is a road

It is long and it is dusty

The people there are many

And on their way to destruction

 

All along that road are ones

For whom I go searching:

The lost,

The broken,

The abandoned,

The sinner

And the bloody

 

I came so that they have life

And I’m going to them now

My Bride, I want you with Me

Show them

To My Father’s house

 

Come with Me My love

Raise up that heavy head!

To the road I am going

Oh will you leave

This comfy bed?

 

Cold out there?

Yes it is, that’s for certain.

All along that wide road

You will be buffeted,

Perhaps even broken.

 

But child-

Don’t you see?

We’ll be together

Side-by-side,

You’ll be with Me

Where I am,

Together to abide.

 

Come now,

Beloved Bride,

Stick out your toe.

Those covers-

Will you toss them aside?

 

My Dove,

They’re waiting,

Let them see your beauty shine

For lo, I am with you always

Place your hand in Mine.

 

The Bride-groom is rousing His Bride from her comfortable bed of luxury.  Let us respond to His call and pray for an awakening.

May God bless my brothers and sisters in our wonderful Lord Jesus Christ’s Name. Amen

 


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A Call to Prayer – a Poem

It is the mark of a Christiangirl praying

The test of one’s inner strength

It is work

It is labour

Our wall of defense

 

It is the prevailing muscle

That moves the Almighty’s arm

It is a mighty weapon

To the enemy disarm

 

It is the place of communion

With a holy God above

The means of transforming

Us into His great love

 

It is sharing in His burdens

And being privy to His heart

It is being in Jesus’ presence

Kneeling before the holy Ark

 

Why then-

Is this the way we resist

More often than not?

Perhaps because the way

Of the flesh it is not

 

But now –

Put that flesh man down-

Tell him to submit!

Then fall upon your knees

Where the flesh

Can have no credit.

 

Yes, there is a price to pay

-the flesh-

For a hidden ministry.

You may not be a preacher

Nor a church celebrity,

 

But with Christ you will enter

The highest work of all.

It is the one of Prayer, where

Before God’s throne

You are called


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The Master’s Vessel

The Master was searching for a vessel to use; On the shelf there were many – which one would He choose? broken-vessel

“Take me”, cried the gold one, “I’m shiny and bright, I’m of great value and I do things just right. My beauty and luster will outshine the rest And for someone like You, Master, gold would be the best!”

The Master passed on with no word at all; He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;

“I’ll serve You, dear Master, I’ll pour out Your drink, and I’ll be at Your table whenever You dine, My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true, And my silver will always compliment You.”

Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass, It was wide mouthed and shallow, and polished like glass.

“Here! Here!” cried the vessel, “I know I will do, Place me on Your table for all men to view.”

“Look at me”, called the goblet of crystal so clear, “My transparency shows my contents so dear, Though fragile am I, I will serve You with pride, And I’m sure I’ll be happy in Your house to abide.”

The Master came next to a vessel of wood, Polished and carved, it solidly stood.

“You may use me, dear Master”, the wooden bowl said, “But I’d rather You used me for fruit, not for Bread!”

hisloveThen the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay. Empty and broken it helplessly lay. No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose, To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.

“Ah! This is the vessel I’ve been hoping to find, I will mend and use it and make it all Mine.” “I need not the vessel with pride of its self; Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf; Nor the one who is big mouthed and shallow and loud; Nor one who displays his contents so proud; Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right; But this plain earthy vessel filled with My power and might.”

Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay. Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day. Spoke to it kindly. “There’s work you must do, Just pour out to others as I pour into you.”

Author Unknown