Poetry Saturday—New Every Morning

Every day is a fresh beginning,
Every morn is a world made new.
You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,
Here is a beautiful hope for you—
A hope for me and a hope for you.

All of the past things are past and over;
The tasks are done and the tears are shed.
Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover,
Yesterday’s wounds which smarted and bled,
Are healed with the healing which night has shed.

Yesterday is now a part of forever,
Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight,
With glad days, and sad days, and bad days, which never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,
Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.

Let them go, since we cannot re-live them,
Cannot undo and cannot atone;
God in His mercy receive, forgive them!
Only the new days are our own;
Today is ours, and today alone.

Here are the skies all burnished brightly,
Here is the spent earth all re-born,
Here are the tired limbs springing lightly
To face the sun and to share with the morn
In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.

Every day is a fresh beginning;
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
And spite of old sorrow and older sinning,
And puzzles forecasted and possible pain,
Take heart with the day, and begin again. —Susan Coolidge

Poetry Saturday—Remember Three Things

Remember three things that come not back;
The arrow sent upon its track—
It will not swerve, it will not stay
Its speed; it flies to wound or slay. 

The spoken word, so soon forgot
By thee; but it has perished not;
In other hearts ’tis living still;
And doing work for good or ill.

And the lost opportunity,
That cometh back no more to thee. 
In vain thou weepest, in vain dost yearn. 
Those three will nevermore return. —Arab Proverb

Poetry Saturday—My Country

America! my own dear land,
O, ‘tis a lovely land to me;
I thank my God that I was born
Where man is free!

Our land—it is a glorious land—
And wide it spreads from sea to sea,
And sister States in Union join
And all are free.

And equal laws we all obey, 
To kings we never bend the knee;
We may not own any Lord but God
Where all are free.

We’ve lofty hills and sunny vales
And streams that roll to either sea,
And through this large and varied land
Alike we’re free.

You hear the sounds of healthful toil,
And youth’s gay shout and childhood’s glee,
And every one in safety dwells 
And all are free.

We’re brothers all from South to North,
One bond will draw us to agree;
We love this country of our birth,
We love the free. 

We love the name of Washington,
I lisped it on my father’s knee,
And we shall ne’er forget the name 
While we are free.

My Land, my own dear native Land,
Thou art a lovely land to me;
I bless my God that I was born
Where man is free! —Sarah Josepha Buell Hale (1788–1879) 

God’s Unrivaled Pencil

Not a flower
But shows some touch in freckle, streak or stain
Of His unrivaled pencil. He inspires
Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues,
And bathes their eyes with nectar.
Happy he
Who walks with Him! —William Cowper







all photos (c) Craig T. Owens 2020

Apples Of Gold In Pictures Of Silver (book review)

The title of this book comes from the King James Version of the Bible: “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver” (Proverbs 25:11). A picturesque phrase for words that are challenging and uplifting. 

This book came to me from my Grandfather’s library. Originally published in 1889, my Grandfather had an autographed copy from 1901. The words in this book have stood the test of time. 

The first section of the book contains quotes, poems, and other life-guiding words to be read each day of the year. The subsequent sections are targeted to specific seasons of life. They are “Apples of Gold for…

  • … Children
  • … Youths 
  • … Lasses 
  • … Young Men 
  • … Young Women
  • … Early Married Life
  • … Middle-Aged 
  • … The Old
  • … Mothers 
  • … Dark Days 
  • … Bright Days” 

Each of these sections contains short stories, quotes, and poetry to both recover from a stumble and help the reader grow to new levels of maturity and success. 

I realize this book is out of print and probably unavailable to most, but there is an important principle from these types of books: Never stop learning. Find sources of wisdom that have stood the test of time, and let others’ hindsight be your foresight as you strive to keep on growing. In the case of Apples Of Gold In Pictures Of Silver, the editors approached this book from a biblical worldview, making sure that all of the counsel they printed aligned with God’s Word. 

I would encourage you to find these types of books to help you grow through life.

Poetry Saturday—If We Had But A Day

We should fill the hours with the sweetest things,
   If we had but a day;
We should drink alone at the purest springs
   In our upward way;
We should love with a lifetime’s love in an hour,
   If the hours were a few;
We should rest, not for dreams, but for fresher power
   To be and to do.

We should guide our wayward or wearied wills
   By the clearest light;
We should keep our eyes on the heavenly hills,
   If they lay in sight;
We should trample the pride and the discontent
   Beneath our feet;
We should take whatever a good God sent,
   With a trust complete.

We should waste no moments in weak regret,
   If the day were but one;
If what we remember and what we forget
   Went out with the sun;
We should be from our clamorous selves set free,
   To work or to pray,
And to be what the Father would have us be,
   If we had but a day. —Mary Lowe Dickinson

Poetry Saturday—Why Fret Thee

Why fret thee, soul,
For things beyond thy small control?
Do but thy part and thou shalt see 
Heaven will have charge of these and thee.
Sow thou the seed and wait in peace
The Lord’s increase. —Kate Putnam Osgood

‘Tis I, Be Not Afraid

Tossed with rough winds, and faint with fear, 
Above the tempest, soft and clear, 
What still small accents greet mine ear?
“‘Tis I; be not afraid.”

“‘Tis I who led thy steps aright; 
‘Tis I who gave thy blind eyes sight; 
‘Tis I, thy Lord, thy Life, thy Light. 
‘Tis I; be not afraid.

“This bitter cup fear not to drink; 
I know it well—oh! do not shrink; 
I tasted it o’er Kedron’s brink. 
‘Tis I; be not afraid. 

“Mine eyes are watching by thy bed, 
Mine arms are underneath thy head, 
My blessing is around thee shed. 
‘Tis I; be not afraid.“

When on the other side thy feet 
Shall rest ‘mid thousands welcomes sweet, 
One well known voice thy heart shall greet. 
“‘Tis I; be not afraid.”

From out the dazzling majesty 
Gently He’ll lay His hands on thee, 
Whispering: “Beloved, lov’st thou Me? 
It was not in vain I died for thee,
‘Tis I; be not afraid.” —Anonymous

Poetry Saturday—Meet A Smile

Do not look for wrong and evil,
   You will find them if you do;
As you measure for your neighbor
   He will measure back to you.
Look for goodness, look for gladness,
   You will meet them all the while;
If you bring a smiling visage
   To the glass, you meet a smile. —Alice Cary

Poetry Saturday—A Man With An Aim

Give me a man with an aim,
   Whatever that aim may be,
Whether it’s wealth or whether it’s fame,
   It matters not to me.
Let him walk in the path of right,
   And keep his aim in sight,
And work and pray in faith alway,
   With his eyes on the glittering height.

Give me a man who says,
   “I will do something well,
And make the fleeing days
   A story of labor to tell.”
Though the aim he has be small,
   It is better than none at all;
With something to do the whole year through,
   He will not stumble and fall.

But satan weaves a snare
   For the feet of those who stray,
With never a thought or care
   Where the path may lead away.
The man who hath no aim
   Not only leaves no name
When life’s done, but ten to one
   He leaves a record of shame. 

Give me a man whose heart
   Is filled with ambition’s fire;
Who sets his mark in the start,
   And keeps moving it higher and higher.
Better to die in the strife,
   The hands with labor rife,
Than to glide with the stream in an idle dream
   And lead a purposeless life. 

Better to strive and climb
   And never reach the goal,
Than to drift along with time
   An aimless, worthless soul.
Ay, better to climb and fall,
   Or sow, though the yield be small,
Than to throw away day after day,
   And never to strive at all. —Anonymous