One night I dreamed I fell into a pit. I dreamed I prayed for God to rescue me.
The practitioner averred, “I have no sympathy with terror, but utmost compassion for you— God’s beloved idea is not afraid. I have no sympathy with error, but utmost compassion for you, God’s cherished and nurtured— you are not afraid.
Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace. — Luke 8:48 Your freedom came so quickly, when trembling humble hope met his all-knowing mercy unlimited in scope.
Fresh upon the listening ear Of one who waits upon the Word, Comes inspiration, calm and clear, As whispers of God’s truth are heard. New concepts only Mind can give Call gently at the open door Of consciousness, which longs to live In heavenly places, more and more! The Reader, moved to holy thought So sweetly furnished from above, Receives the manna, humbly sought In grateful prayer—embraced by Love.
The dawn—how glorious! The Christ is here. The night has departed.
God is our Shepherd we all know this even those of us who scamper away from the thought of being a follower a meek and lowly sheep But it’s good to be a lamb fold yourself into the flock let God keep watch over you and you and you too because We are also shepherds that’s right we reflect the Shepherd we abide—stand by, stand with, one with our God keeping watch over our flock/our thoughts/our view of ourselves and others by night—by darkness, doubt and fear until the way is clear and we know and feel right now that God is here Sometimes we’re the shepherds and sometimes we’re the sheep either way watch and pray today —Madora Kibbe.
Candles of sunlight dance as they rise O’er dappled green meadows Joying my eyes Yet beyond and above a moment in time Glows the light true eternal, sublime Its ineffable joy The kingdom within Where vast views of heaven Forever have been In that sweet secret place Of grandeur and might Ever safe, ever held In Truth’s marvelous light —G. Gershala Goldsmith.
Ask me not about time nor space nor age nor about my sons or daughters. Talk to me not about the weather or the media nor ask my vocation or location nor query my involvement in politics or society no matter how kindly meant.
Everywhere and every hour The Lord upholds all life. The presence of eternal Mind Is here to still all strife.
On the crashing shores, the ebb and flow of sense, I cry— Feed my famished heart! Satisfy my yearning for higher, purer ways. Quicken my affections in the radiance of the real, the shelter of Spirit’s embrace.