欧宝娱乐

“And to 'scape stormy days, I choose an everlasting night.”
― John Donne, The Complete English Poems

“Amazing grace! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now i see.”
― John Newton, Amazing Grace

“In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen,
Snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago. ”
― Christina Rossetti, The Poetical Works Of Christina Georgina Rossetti

“O corse of the Locked Tomb," you extemporized wildly. "Beloved dead, hear your handmaiden. I loved you with my whole rotten, contemptible heart鈥旾 loved you to the exclusion of aught else鈥昹et me live long enough to die at your feet."

Then you went under to make war on Hell.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“No one needed to say it, but the room overflowed with that sort of blessing. The combination of loss and abundance. The abundance that has no guilt. The loss that has no fix. The simple tiredness that is not weary. The hope not built on blindness.”
― Aimee Bender, Willful Creatures

“If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know to-day what wounds are, have no fear,
Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God鈥檚 wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.”
― Edward Shillito

“Yes, silence is painful, but if you endure it, you will hear the cadence of the entire universe.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“I once was a stranger to grace and to God,
I knew not my danger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to sooth or engage,
Isaiah鈥檚 wild measure and John鈥檚 simple page;
But e鈥檈n when they pictured the blood sprinkled tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu seemed nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,
I wept when the waters went over His soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nailed to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu鈥斺€檛was nothing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high,
Then legal fears shook me, I trembled to die;
No refuge, no safety in self could I see鈥�
Jehovah Tsidkenu my Saviour must be.

My terrors all vanished before the sweet Name;
My guilty fears banished, with boldness I came
To drink at the fountain, life giving and free鈥�
Jehovah Tsidkenu is all things to me.

Jehovah Tsidkenu! my treasure and boast,
Jehovah Tsidkenu! I ne鈥檈r can be lost;
In Thee I shall conquer by flood and by field,
My cable, my anchor, my breast-plate and shield!

Even treading the valley, the shadow of death,
This 鈥渨atchword鈥� shall rally my faltering breath;
For while from life鈥檚 fever my God sets me free,
Jehovah Tsidkenu, my death song shall be.”
― Robert Murray McCheyne

“The gospel brings tidings, glad tidings indeed,
To mourners in Zion, who want to be freed,
From sin and Satan, and Mount Sinai鈥檚 flame,
Good news of salvation, through Jesus the Lamb.

What sweet invitations, the gospel contains,
To men heavy laden, with bondage and chains;
It welcomes the weary, to come and be blessed,
With ease from their burdens, in Jesus to rest.

For every poor mourner, who thirsts for the Lord,
A fountain is opened, in Jesus the Word;
Their poor parched conscience, to cool and to wash,
From guilt and pollution, from dead works and dross.

A robe is provided, their shame now to hide,
In which none are clothed, but Jesus' bride;
Though it be costly, yet is the robe free,
And all Zion鈥檚 mourners, shall decked with it be.”
― William Gadsby

“She rides the sandworm of space!
She guides through all storms
Into the land of gentle winds.
Though we sleep by the snake's den,
She guards our dreaming sould.
Shunning the desert heat,
She hides us in a cool hollow.
The gleaming of her white teeth
Guides us in the night.
By the braids of her hair
We are lifted to heaven!
Sweet fragrance, flower-scented,
Surrounds us in her presence.”
― Frank Herbert, Dune Messiah

“Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone.
Strange that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.”
― William Billings

“Pat sat on the garden bench until dawn came over the Hill of the Mist. The day had begun in a pale windless morning . . . the day on which mother was to go. Would she ever return?

That old hymn she had hated . . . "change and decay in all around I see."

Change was what she had always dreaded.

"Oh, Thou who changest not abide with me."

It was not a hateful hymn after all . . . it was a hymn to be loved. How wonderful to feel that there was something that never changed . . . a Power under and above and around on which you could depend. Peace seemed to flow into her.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Pat of Silver Bush

“Return, O wanderer, now return,
And seek thy Father鈥檚 face;
Those new desires which in thee burn
Were kindled by His grace.
Return, O wanderer, now return, And wipe the falling tear:
Thy Father calls, - no longer mourn;
鈥橳is love invites thee near”
― William Benco Collyer

“When I do leap into the pit, I go headlong with my heels up, and am pleased to be falling in that degrading attitude, and pride myself upon it. And in the very depths of that degradation I begin a hymn of praise. Let me be accursed. Let me be vile and base, only let me kiss the hem of the veil in which my God is shrouded. Though I may be following the devil, I am Thy son, O Lord, and I love Thee, and I feel the joy without which the world cannot stand.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“I give you "The Human Hymn" for the times when you feel depleted, desolate and defeated.

I am the Vedanta, I am the Bible,
I am the Quran, I am the God Cell.
I am the Torah, I am the Suttas,
I am the Hadith, I am Humanitas.

I am the Son, I am Jehovah,
I am the Qi, I am Bismillah.
I am the Vivek, I am the Ananda,
I am the Bodhi, I am the Sattva.

I am the Sat, I am the Shri,
I am Akaal, I am Brahmasmi.
I am the Prophet, I am Aminah,
I am the Mother, I am the Krishna.

I am the Beginning, I am the Anth,
I am the Journey, I am Ananth.
I am Creation, I am the Ravager,
I am Qayamat, I am the Creator.”
― Abhijit Naskar, All For Acceptance

“O God, what offering shall I give
To Thee, the Lord of earth and skies?
My spirit, soul, and flesh receive,
A holy, living sacrifice.”
― Joachim Lange

“I am the Vedanta, I am the Bible,
I am the Quran, I am the God Cell.
I am the Torah, I am the Suttas,
I am the Hadith, I am Humanitas.

I am the Son, I am Jehovah,
I am the Qi, I am Bismillah.
I am the Vivek, I am the Ananda,
I am the Bodhi, I am the Sattva.

I am the Sat, I am the Shri,
I am Akaal, I am Brahmasmi.
I am the Prophet, I am Aminah,
I am the Mother, I am the Krishna.

I am the Beginning, I am the Anth,
I am the Journey, I am Ananth.
I am Creation, I am the Ravager,
I am Qayamat, I am the Creator.”
― Abhijit Naskar, All For Acceptance

“Each being is a broken hymn”
― Emil Cioran

“Even now
when I say your name
it leaves my mouth
in slow motion
like a winged prayer;
A hymn before
the altar of love.”
― Collette O'Mahony, The Soul in Words: A collection of Poetry & Verse

“He thought of the words of the hymn he had always loved: Help of the helpless, O abide with me. He knew one could say - perhaps Rhonda Skillings might say - that this was merely the plea of a frightened child reaching up in the dark to hold the hand of Parent God. But Tyler, softly humming the tune as he stood beneath the elm - fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens, Lord with me abide - thought God existed in the hymn itself, in the yearning and sorrowful acknowledgment of the loneliness and fears that arrived in life.”
― Elizabeth Strout, Abide with Me

“Your peace you gave us
Your heart divine,
Your blood was spilled
What a mighty prize.
Grant us now Thy tender mercy,
Your peace surrounds us now.
Let every heart, tongue and nation,
Before you Jesus, bow.
Peace peace,
You brought us peace
Let us dwell at Your table,
On what You provide we feast
Take our hand in this brokenness
Hold us gently oh Lord
We pray and ask you for Your presence
Lead us through this wilderness.”
― Victoria Lynn, Once I Knew

“The elements of the world pass away with a loud noise
(II Pet. 3:10): and everything is clothed with light and existence as with a garment. Everything exists and acquires substance. Representing the cherubim in the liturgical singing of the thrice holy hymn, we are caught up into heaven-whether in the body or out of the body we do not know, God knows (cf. II Cor. 12:2) -and we sing the triumphal hymn with the blessed powers. When we are there, beyond space and time, we enter the realm of eschatology. We begin to receive the Lord "invisibly escorted by the hosts of angels." Thus anyone who participates in the Liturgy, who is taken up-"he was caught up into heaven"-acquires new senses.
He sees history not from its deceptive side, which is created and passes away, but from the true, eternal and luminous side which is the age to come. Then the believer delights in this world too, because he experiences the relation between it and the other world, the eternal and indestructible: the whole of creation has a trinitarian structure and harmony. The thrice-holy hymn is sung by the "communion of saints," the Church, in the depths of its being.
Solemnly sung as part of the Divine Liturgy, the thrice. holy hymn overcomes tumult, and makes everything join in the celebration and sing together in complete silence and stillness, the silence and stillness of the age to come. This is an indication that we have already received the pledge of the life to come and of the Kingdom.”
― Archimandrite Vasileios, Hymn of Entry: Liturgy and Life in the Orthodox Church