"You must not lose faith in humanity.
Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." Mahatma Gandhi
"No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge. . . . If he
is indeed wise he [the teacher] does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your
own mind." Kahil Gibran
"If in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other
seasons, and let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing." Kahil Gibran
"An artist can
take a few bits of colored glass
And fit them together with infinite pains
Into a design of symmetry.
is finished, his colors so blend together
That he has created a picture in glass.
It is a mosaic.
A distinctive, original design.
The way you fit each "piece" of you together:
Your dreams, your
Your lifework, and your total personality,
Will determine whether the "Design For Your Tomorrow"
be the masterpiece God has in mind." Anonymous
No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the
Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind;
therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. (-John Donne, 1624 - Meditation XVII)
great deeds for human betterment must be done by individuals--they can never be done by the many. George Peabody.
must not hope to be mowers,
And to gather the ripe gold ears,
Unless we have first been sowers
And watered the
furrows with tears.
It is not just as we take it,
This mystical world of ours,
Life's field will yield as
we make it
A harvest of thorns or of flowers.
---Johann W. von Goethe
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a
Frozen with snow.
No vision and you perish;
No ideal, and you're lost;
Your heart must ever cherish
Some faith at any cost.
Some hope, some dream to cling to,
Some rainbow in
Some melody to sing to,
Some service that is high.
--Harriett du Autermont
Come and Find the Quiet Center
Text Shirley Erena Murray
Music B.F. White (BEECH SPRING)
Come and find the quiet center in the crowded life we lead,
Find the room for hope to enter,
Find the frame where we are freed:
Clear the chaos and the clutter.
Clear our eyes that we can see
all the things
that really matter,
Be at peace, and simply be.
Silence is a friend who claims us,
Cools the heat and slows the pace,
God it is who speaks and names us,
Knows our being, touches base,
Making space within our thinking,
Lifting shades to show the sun,
Raising courage when were shrinking,
Finding scope for faith begun.
In the Spirit let us travel, open to each others pain,
Let our loves and fears unravel,
Celebrate the space we gain:
There's a place for deepest dreaming,
There's a time for hearts to care,
In the Spirits lively scheming
there is always room to spare.
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried.
patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, "Child, you
"'Wait?', you say, wait!" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By FAITH I have asked, and am claiming your Word.
"My future and all to
which I can relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to WAIT?
I'm needing a 'yes,' a go-ahead sign,
a 'no' to which I can resign.
"And Lord, you promised that if we believe
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply!"
Then quietly, softly,
I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, "You must wait."
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting. . ..for what?"
He seemed then to kneel and His eyes wept with mine,
he tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead,
and cause mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want--but,
you wouldn't know ME.
"You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint;
You'd not know the power that I give
to the faint;
You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.
"You'd never experience
that fullness of love
As the peace of my Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save. . .(for a
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of my heart.
"The glow of my comfort late into the night.
faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that's beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite
God, who makes what you have LAST.
"You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that 'My grace
is sufficient for thee.'
Yes, your dreams for your loved ones overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss! if I lost
what I'm doing in you!
"So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
THAT THE GREATEST OF GIFTS IS TO GET
TO KNOW ME.
And though oft may my answers seem terribly late,
My wisest of answers is still but to WAIT."
Russell Kelfer ~
Who Am I? (from "Letters
and Papers from Prison")
Dietrich Bonhoeffer (18 July
Who am I? They often tell
I step from my cell’s
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly
like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell
I talk to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to
Who am I? They also tell
I bear the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that
which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I know
restless and longing and
sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as
though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for
flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness,
tossing in expectation of
powerlessly trembling for
friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying,
at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell
to it all?
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today, and
Am I both at once? A hypocrite
and before myself a contemptibly
Or is something within me
still like a beaten army,
fleeing in disorder from
victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these
lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, though knowest,
O God, I am thine.