Year's End

O love beyond compare,
Thou art good when thou givest,
when thou takest away,
when the sun shines upon me,
when night gathers over me.
Thou hast loved me before the foundation of the world,
and in love didst redeem my soul;
Thou dost love me still,
in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.
Thy goodness has been with me during another year,
leading me through a twisting wilderness,
in retreat helping me to advance,
when beaten back making sure headway.
Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead;
I hoist sail and draw up anchor,
with thee as the blessed Pilot of my future as of my past.
I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.
If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation,
thou wilt be with me in them;
If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation,
I shall not drown;
If I am to die,
I shall see they face the sooner;
If a painful end is to be my lot,
grant me grace that my faith fail not;
If I am to be cast aside from the service I love,
I can make no stipulation;
Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,
as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use.

Penitence

"O LORD of Grace,
I have been hasty and short in private prayer,
O quicken my conscience to feel this folly,
to bewail this ingratitude;
My first sin of the day leads into others,
and it is just that thou shouldst withdraw thy presence
from one who waited carelessly on thee.
Keep me at all times from robbing thee,
and from depriving my soul of thy due worship;
Let me never forget
that I have an eternal duty to love, honour and obey thee,
that thou art infinitely worthy of such;
that if I fail to glorify thee
I am guilty of infinite evil that merits infinite punishment,
for sin is the violation of an infinite obligation.
O forgive me if I have dishonoured thee,
melt my heart,
heal my backslidings, and
open an intercourse of love.
When the fire of thy compassion warms my inward man,
and the outpourings of thy Spirit fill my soul,
then I feelingly wonder at my own depravity,
and deeply abhor myself;
then thy grace is a powerful incentive to repentance,
and an irresistible motive to inward holiness.
May I never forget that thou hast my heart in thy hands.
Apply to it the merits of Christ's atoning blood whenever I sin.
Let thy mercies draw me to thyself.
Wean me from all evil, mortify me to the world,
and make me ready for my departure hence,
animated by the humiliations of penitential love.
My soul is often a chariot without wheels,
clogged and hindered in sin's miry clay;
Mount it on eagle's wings and cause it to soar upward to thyself."

This book has been such an enrichment to my quiet time. Its depth and eloquence put into words what my heart can only feel.

My Greatest Weakness

If I had to choose my one greatest weakness, it would undoubtedly be books. I love everything about them. The smell of paper and ink, the grainy feel of the pages, ornate covers and bindings, sweeping fonts, colorful illustrations...

I could spend hours in Barnes and Noble just relishing the massive amounts of literature surrounding me. Each book represents so many years of research, travelling, writing, thoughts, and emotions.

Yesterday I was browsing in a quaint downtown bookstore and found these two gems.



Originally penned in 1905 and 1906, these treasures are a delightful blend of botany, poetry, and art, saturated throughout with the author's ardent love of nature.



The author, Edith Holden, was born in 1871 in the town of Moseley, England. After growing up in a family of seven children, she attended art school and worked as an illustrator, later marrying the sculptor, Ernest Smith.



These two books are full of her favorite poems, personal thoughts and observations of local wildlife throughout the year.



Her detailed watercolors are exceptional as is her excellent taste in poetry, and I'm excited to have two more books to add to my collection. :)

You can't judge a book by its cover

Now that I've exhausted our library's classics shelf, I started on my list of instructional and spiritual books. One book that my mom has been encouraging me to read is called The Mother at Home by Reverend John S.C. Abbott. But ours isn't as pretty as the one featured below. Ours is an unattractive green paperback that was printed in 1989. It has a picture of a mother and young girl (also green) reading a book at a table dressed in 80's clothes and hairstyles. Bleck. Needless to say, I was surprised when I started reading it and it sounded nothing like a book written in the 80's. A few chapters in, I flipped to the front and found out why. This book was written in 1833.



No wonder I liked it so much. It was written in one of my favorite time periods for literature!

The Mother at Home is an amazing book that is chock full of wisdom. It's kind of like reading proverbs. You have to take it one chapter at a time with breaks in between or you'll get information overload! Surprisingly, a lot of the issues Abbott talks about still apply today. As a babysitter, I get to observe a lot of children that have some of the problems Abbott talks about. In his book, Abbott paints pictures of quiet, well-behaved children, and then he depicts chaotic scenarios that describe many modern day homes. (Apparently, parents in the 1800's had the same problems parents today have!) His writing is organized, to-the-point, and he uses illustrations and examples drawn from his own observations and experience. A must read...

Father's Day Vignettes

"In a moment she had met her father at the door and was hanging on his shoulder. The expression of her face I felt to be very touching. There was a deep fondness for him and gratitude to him for all his love and care in her beautiful look. She was at once so proud of him and devoted to him, yet so compassionate, that nothing she could have said would have moved me more."
--David Copperfield

"Her heart danced at the idea of three whole days of perfect freedom with her father.
'We'll have bread and cheese for dinner and eat it on our knees. We'll put our knives in our mouths 'til we cut ourselves!'...As Molly walked home with her father, she almost danced along the street. 'Now, Papa! I'm going to have you all to myself. You must be very obedient. I have reckoned on us doing all sorts of things together.'
'What sort of things?'
'Everything that is unrefined and ungenteel! Think of riding together down the lanes--Papa do let me have one ride with you! I am sure we can manage it somehow!'
And somehow, it was managed..."
--Wives and Daughters

Life

This week I begin my long-awaited spring break! To keep myself from becoming too bored, I've been sifting through my project bag looking for various things to occupy my time. I found an old half-finished cross stitch project this week that I finished and framed. I started this cross stitch about six years ago.



I've also been doing some mending for my summer wardrobe. My grandmother gave me this lovely cotton skirt to wear, but it's a women's size 12. I have very slowly and tentatively started to take in the waist. I am still working on getting the waistband off--I had to use a seam ripper and I'm still only halfway finished.



Since sewing is not my strong point, I try to work slowly and thoughtfully so I don't mess it up or become frustrated. This skirt is very full with a high, fitted waistband, pleats, and decorative blue and silver stitching. It should turn out nicely if I don't ruin it in the process.



On a lighter note, it's definitely spring outside! I've been working some in my garden and my rosebushes are doing well. I planted a new hybrid tea called a "Queen Elizabeth" that has large, light pink blooms. I also dug up and transplanted several runners from my mom's lilac bush and they appear to be very happy. You can't see them in this picture but I planted them just to the left of those two chairs.



In the greenhouse my sweet alyssum are coming up nicely though nowhere near as fast as I'd like. I've decided from now on I'm simply going to buy plants from nurseries instead of raising them from seeds. It saves a lot of time, work, they generally do better, and it's only a few dollars more. Still, it's been a good experience.



I've also been doing a lot of reading in my free time. In the past two weeks I've read My Ántonia, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, The Last of the Mohicans, and I'm working through A Young Woman After God's Own Heart by Elizabeth George. So far it's very good.

Although my spring break is a lot longer than most people's (a week and a half) I know it'll fly by. Each day is precious because it's the last spring I'll be living at home for awhile, so I'm going to savor it while it lasts. Happy Spring!

Dreams of Spring

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.

In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river's orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.

Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.

Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills.

Ours shall be the moonrise stealing
Through the birches ivory-white;
Ours shall be the mystic healing
Of the velvet-footed night.

Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true...

--Lucy Maud Montgomery

Motherhood

Instead of silken china scarf,
Petal-soft touch of tiny arms.
Instead of gold and silver bands,
The precious clasp of baby hands.

Instead of roses’ musky scent,
The milky breath of sweet infant.
Instead of diamonds on my breast,
Sparkling tears adorn my chest.

Instead of empty marble halls,
The sound of laughter and little footfalls.
Instead of a priceless masterpiece,
Small hands create a bright motif.

Instead of rustling satin gown,
Daisy chains and a clover crown.
Instead of soothing symphonies,
The lisp of childish sympathies.

And would I trade my clover crown,
For diamonds and a satin gown?
No—for all the world, I never would
Renounce the joys of motherhood.

Dreams of Summer

An afternoon as ripe with heat
As might the golden pippin be
With mellowness if at my feet
It dropped now from the apple-tree
My hammock swings in lazily.

The boughs about me spread a shade
That shields me from the sun, but weaves
With breezy shuttles through the leaves
Blue rifts of skies, to gleam and fade
Upon the eyes that only see
Just of themselves, all drowsily.

Above me drifts the fallen skein
Of some tired spider, looped and blown,
As fragile as a strand of rain,
Across the air, and upward thrown
By breaths of hayfields newly mown--
So glimmering it is and fine,
I doubt these drowsy eyes of mine.

...I have no care. I only know
My hammock hides and holds me here
In lands of shade a prisoner:
While lazily the breezes blow
Light leaves of sunshine over me,
And back and forth and to and fro
I swing, enwrapped in some hushed glee,
Smiling at all things drowsily.

--James Whitcomb Riley

Call Back

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back--
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And if, perchance, Faith's light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.

Call back and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest's roots were torn;
That, when the heaven's thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you where the air was still.

Oh friend, call back, and tell me for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph, and your feet bound in the race;
But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim,
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.

But if you'll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you'll say He saw you through the night's sin-darkened sky--
If you have gone a little way ahead, oh friend, call back!--
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track.

--Anonymous

Words of Inspiration

Go back to thy garden-plot, sweetheart!
Go back till the evening falls,
And bind thy lilies and train thy vines,
Till for thee the Master calls.

Go make thy garden fair as thou canst,
Thou workest never alone;
Perhaps he whose plot is next to thine
Will see it and mend his own.

--Faber

I Am A Woman

I am a woman, called to be a servant
Bound by the grace that Your love imparts
Lord make me humble, teach me to follow;
Make me a woman of Your heart.

I am a woman, called to speak with wisdom
Shining a light that will lead to You.
Lord, give me courage to be Your witness;
Make me a woman of Your truth.

I am a woman, purchased by your mercy
Bought by the love that would spare no cost.
Lord, make me holy, loving you only;
Make me a woman of your cross.

--Claire Cloninger