He is not dead, the loved one whom we cherished,
But only gone before
Into a fairer clime,
For God has sweetly willed His children should not
perish But like a Star of Glory
Ever shine.
And so we must rejoice that he was with us,
That he was ours to love
A little while;
For of the past, not Death or Time can rob us,
Or take away the mem'ry
Of his smile.
Tis sweet I know that he is safe forever,
Safe-sheltered from this world
Of pain and care;
Forever in our loving Saviour's keeping,
For naught of harm
Can ever reach him there.
And though our hearts are full of pain, O Jesus,
Submissive in thy will
O let us rest;
For ah, we know that through the endless ages,
Thy will, Thy own sweet will
Is always best!
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
this poem used she, I changed it to he
for my son this one use......
I may never see tomorrow; there's no written guarantee.
And things that happened yesterday belong to history.
I cannot predict the future, I cannot change the past.
I have just the present moment, I must treat it as my last.
I must use this moment wisely for it soon will pass away.
And be lost to me forever as part of yesterday.
I must exercise compassion, help the fallen to their feet,
Be a friend unto the friendless, make an empty life complete,
The unkind things I do today may never be undone,
And friendships that I fail to win may nevermore be won.
I may not have another chance on bended knee to pray,
And thank God with humble heart for giving me this day.
--Author Unknown--
What's the use of frettin'
When things seem all askew?
Perhaps the trouble only lies
Within the heart o' you.
A sighin' an' a cryin'
Wont't get you any place:
Byt 'pears to me a cheery grin
Would lighten up your face!
So what's the use o ' frettin'
When things seem goin' wrong?
Jest clear your throat an' whistle
A merry bit o' song!
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures, and
a couple by habit.
This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. did you ever
wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize GOD hovering over Earth selecting His instruments for propagation with
great care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant
ledger.
"Armstrong-Beth, son. Patron saint, Matthew.
"Forest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron saint, Cecilia.
"Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron saint...give her Gerald. He's used to profanity." Finally, He passes
a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."
The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly, " smiles God. "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who does not know laughter?
That would be cruel."
"But does she have patience?" asks the angel.
"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she"ll handle it."
"I watched her today. She has a sense of self and independence that are so rare and so necessary
in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has his own world. She has to make it live in
her world and that's not going to be easy."
"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."
God smiles. "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness."
The angel gasps. "Selfishness? Is that a virture?"
God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes,
here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less then perfect. She doesn't realize it yet,
but she is to be envied.
"She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her
child says "momma" for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. When she
describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations.
I will permit her to see clearly the things I see-ignorance, cruelty, prejudice-and allow her to rise
above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life
because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."
"And what about her patron saint?" asks the angel.
God smiles. "A mirror will suffice."
Author Unknown---
(This may have been written by Erma Bombeck--if so then of course she gets full credit)
Sometimes I shut my eyes and see
The little girl I used to be;
With laughing lips and tousled hair,
And feet that rambled--everywhere.
The little girl that used to dream
Beside some sweet, old shady stream,
Who used to sing beneath the sun,
O little girl, who had such fun!
The little girl who used to kneel
Beside the moonlit window sill,
And say her childish prayer each night,
O little girl, with soul so white.
O little girl, so innocent
Of all the weary world's intent,
I shut my eyes and envy thee,
The little girl I used to be!
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
An unkind word! How far it sinks
Into the wounded heart.
How much of grief, how much of pain
Can just a word impart!
"Twas "Just a word" the giver thought,
And then passed on his way,
Nor did he dream that "just a word"
Might pierce his own some day.
"Twas just a word, an unkind word,
With all its deadly sting;
But oh, the world of meaning
That one small word can bring.
Yes, "just a word," an unkind word,
Oh, keep them all unsaid!
A kindly word, a friendly smile
Is better far, instead.
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
I would walk softly through this week,
And spend much time in prayer,
Thinking of my Lord and try
His sufferings to share.
The Garden of Gethsemane
Be mine this week to know;
O grant me, Lord, the privilege
That "farther"space to go.
I too would enter Pilate's hall
And bear with Him the stripes
That fell upon Him mockingly.
They all were mine by rights.
O let me climb that rugged road
That leads to Calvary,
My guilty shoulders feel the load--
That cross He bore for me.
O let me hear the rabble's cry,
The cruel taunts, the din,
And there upon that far-off hill
Be crucified with Him.
To share His Resurrection Morn
I cannot worthy be,
Unless I too have felt the thorns
He bore on Calvary.
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
Suddenly before my path
Stood Sorrow there one day;
He whispered low, "Accept my cross,
There is no other way."
I tremb'ling answered, "No, not I, "
And turned from him in haste,
But ah, alas, stood Sorrow there
And met me face to face.
And then he spoke with voice so sad,
Yet kind, though full of pain,
"There's much to suffer, earthly one,
But still there's much to gain.
For you my touch may prove to be
A sweet refining fire,
An instrument to draw thy soul
Still nearer God, and higher.
"So try to rise above the clouds,
And live above thy grief,
For ah, the separation here,
Indeed, is only brief."
I whispered, "Sorrow, I accept,
Submissive may I be."
And then I bowed my head and wept,
"O God, this cross for Thee!"
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
Be still and know that I am God,
Who hung the earth in space,
And set the firmament on high.
Heaven is My dwelling place.
Be still and know that I am God
Who rules the earth and sky.
Be still and know that I am God
I'll guide thee with Mine eye.
Be still and know that I am God
The God of Moses' day,
Who with the fire and the cloud
Led Israel all the way.
Be still and know that I am God
Jehovah is My Name.
Be still and know that I am God
Forevermore the same.
Be still and know that I am God
Who drew salvation's plan
And when the time in fullness came
Sent Christ, the Lord, to man.
Be still and know that I am God
Who suffered pain and loss.
Be still and know that I am God
From manger-bed to Cross.
~Blanche Metcalf Quigley~
So softly now from the heavens,
With low and murmuring sound,
Snowflakes, like white-winged fairies,
Are falling upon the ground.
The cold bare earth once so dreary
Is clothed in a mantle of white;
Each snowflake is doing its best
To carry a message of light.
And I think of the kind "All Father"
Who in His home far above,
Remembered His earthly children
And sent them a token of love.
He saw that the earth was dreary,
And knew that the flowers were gone;
He saw that the trees were all bare,
And knew that the winter was long;
He said to the snowflake fairies,
"Go children speed fast away,
Don't linger, but do as I bid you,
For earth is dreary today."
So they went as the Father bid them;
Quickly they all did obey,
And that's why this world of ours
Is dressed in beauty today!
I breathe a prayer while pondering,
"Father in heaven above,
Let me, like the snowflake fairies,
Carry a token of love.
"Help me, dear Lord, to obey Thee,
So in this dark world of night,
I, like the messenger snowflakes,
May carry a message of light!"
~Alice Hansche Mortenson~
(verse 1)
and family
John R. Rice
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