~I STAND AT THE DOOR AND KNOCK

 

GATES AND DOORS

A BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS EVE

~By Joyce Kilmer~

 

There was a gentle hostler

(And blessed be his name!)

He opened up the stable

The night Our Lady came.

Our Lady and St. Joseph,

He gave them food and bed,

And Jesus Christ has given him

A glory round his head.

 

So let the gate swing open

However poor the yard,

Lest weary people visit you

And find their passage barred.

Unlatch the door at midnight

And let your lantern's glow

Shine out to guide the traveler's feet

To you across the snow.

 

There was a courteous hostler

(He is in Heaven to-night)

He held Our Lady's bridle

And helped her to alight.

He spread clean straw before her

Whereon she might lie down,

And Jesus Christ has given him

An everlasting crown.

 

Unlock the door this evening

And let your gate swing wide,

Let all who ask for shelter

Come speedily inside.

What if your yard be narrow?

What if your house be small?

There is a Guest is coming

Will glorify it all.

 

There was a joyous hostler

Who knelt on Christmas morn

Beside the radiant manger

Wherein his Lord was born.

His heart was full of laughter,

His soul was full of bliss

When Jesus, on His mother's lap,

Gave him His hand to kiss.

 

Unbar your heart this evening

And keep no stranger out,

Take from your soul's great portal

The barrier of doubt.

To humble folk and weary

Give hearty welcoming,

Your breast shall be to-morrow

The cradle of a King.

 

 

*NOTE:

I really like this poem, but I do want to clarify one point.  I don't think the author is depicting a situation whereby salvation is achieved through works, especially considering the nature of stanzas five and six; however, Kilmer was a Catholic, so it is possible that he held erroneous beliefs concerning salvation and "meritorious works" (see my post on the differences between Roman Catholicism and biblical Christianity on my "little words" blog under the "Roman Catholicism" topic link).

 

*First image reblogged

*Second image reblogged

 

~ ~ ~

~THE TRUEST GIFT

 

 

"Christmas is about God's peace coming to dwell in the midst of our imperfections.  After all, that first Noel didn't seem perfect...But every detail, every inconvenience and indignity, was part of God's mysterious plan...Christmas is about the truest gift: peace in a fallen world and the call to trust in God's plan."

 

~From an article in this month's In Touch magazine entitled, "The Perfect Christmas," by Ginger Garrett~

 

 

*Image reblogged

 

~ ~ ~

~CHRISTMAS TREATS FOR THE DAY--TOO CUTE!

 

~ ~ ~





~A POEM FOR THANKSGIVING

 

 

AN AUTUMN GARDEN

~By Bliss Carman~

 

My tent stands in a garden

Of aster and golden-rod,

Tilled by the rain and the sunshine,

And sown by the hand of God,--

An old New England pasture

Abandoned to peace and time,

And by the magic of beauty

Reclaimed to the sublime.

 

About it are golden woodlands

Of tulip and hickory;

On the open ridge behind it

You may mount to a glimpse of sea,--

The far-off, blue, Homeric

Rim of the world's great shield,

A border of boundless glamor

For the soul's familiar field.

 

In purple and gray-wrought lichen

The boulders lie in the sun;

Along its grassy footpath,

The white-tailed rabbits run.

The crickets work and chirrup

Through the still afternoon;

And the owl calls at twilight

Under the frosty moon.

 

The odorous wild grape clambers

Over the tumbling wall,

And through the autumnal quiet

The chestnuts open and fall.

Sharing time's freshness and fragrance,

Part of the earth's great soul,

Here man's spirit may ripen

To wisdom serene and whole.

 

Shall we not grow with the asters?--

Never reluctant nor sad,

Not counting the cost of being,

Living to dare and be glad.

Shall we not lift with the crickets

A chorus of ready cheer,

Braving the frost of oblivion,

Quick to be happy here?

 

The deep red cones of the sumach

And the woodbine's crimson sprays

Have bannered the common roadside

For the pageant of passing days.

These are the oracles Nature

Fills with her holy breath,

Giving them glory of color,

Transcending the shadow of death.

 

Here in the sifted sunlight

A spirit seems to brood

On the beauty and worth of being,

In tranquil, instinctive mood;

And the heart, athrob with gladness

Such as the wise earth knows,

Wells with a full thanksgiving

For the gifts that life bestows:

 

For the ancient and virile nurture

Of the teeming primordial ground,

For the splendid gospel of color,

The rapt revelations of sound;

For the morning-blue above us

And the rusted gold of the fern,

For the chickadee's call to valor

Bidding the faint-heart turn;

 

For fire and running water,

Snowfall and summer rain;

For sunsets and quiet meadows,

The fruit and the standing grain;

For the solemn hour of moonrise

Over the crest of trees,

When the mellow lights are kindled

In the lamps of the centuries.

 

For those who wrought aforetime,

Led by the mystic strain

To strive for the larger freedom,

And live for the greater gain;

For plenty and peace and playtime,

The homely goods of earth,

And for rare immaterial treasures

Accounted of little worth;

 

For art and learning and friendship,

Where beneficent truth is supreme,

Those everlasting cities

Built on the hills of dream;

For all things growing and goodly

That foster this life, and breed

The immortal flower of wisdom

Out of the mortal seed.

 

But most of all for the spirit

That can not rest nor bide

In stale and sterile convenience,

Nor safety proven and tried,

But still inspired and driven,

Must seek what better may be,

And up from the loveliest garden

Must climb for a glimpse of the sea.

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

~GLOW

 

"You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning;
my God turns my darkness into light."
Psalm 18:28

The spirit of man is the lamp  of the LORD,
searching all his innermost parts.
Proverbs 20:27

    "You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do they light a lamp  and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.  Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.
Matthew 5:14-16

"In him was life, and the life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
John 1:4-5

"Then Jesus spoke to them again, saying,
'I am the light  of the world. He who follows Me
shall not walk in darkness, but have the light  of life.'"
John 8:12

"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.'"
2 Corinthians 4:6

"He says:  'Awake, you who sleep, Arise from the dead,
And Christ will give you light.'"
Ephesians 5:14

"It is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.  Do all things without complaining and disputing, that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world."
Philippians 2:13-15

May you be strengthened with all power...giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.
Colossians 1:11-12

For you are all sons of light and sons of the day;
we are not of the night or of darkness.
1 Thessalonians 5:5

 * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

* * * * * *
 

A VERY MINOR POET SPEAKS

 By Isabel Valle

A glowworm in a garden prayed:

"I cannot glow! God, Thou hast made

Me with an ache to glow; Thy stamp

Is on my kin; each has a lamp,

Which, as Thou breathest through the night,

Goes down and up; I have no light.

Unless Thyself within him burn,

How should Thy crawling creature learn

To trace his circle in the sand

Cast rayless from Thy ray-filled hand--

A thing not worth the Maker's mark?

Who builds a temple leaves it dark--

Forgets the candle in the shrine?

God! Set me glowing! Let me shine!"


*I can't seem to figure out what the poet is referring to as concerns the kin whose lamp goes up and down--I guess this is not a lightbulb moment for me :/  After pondering for a bit, I've decided that fireflies might be what is in view here.
 

 

* * * * * *

Articles!

Facts About Glow Worms on a-z-animals.com
 

Glowworm entry on wikipedia.com
 

This article on wild-facts.com answers the question, "What is the point of having a rear-end that lights up?" ☺
 

How Do Glow Worms Produce Light? on ehow.com
 

About the Waitomo Glowworm Caves in New Zealand
 

The UK Glow Worm Survey website

 

* * * * * * 

 

 

* * * * * *

 

 Videos!

 

 

 

 

 

* * * * * *

 

On a slightly different note, does anyone remember the toys from the 80's that were called Glo Worms and Glo Friends?  Here is an article about them!

 

 

 

 

 

I suppose I am now through with wormy reminiscences and reflections for the night....

lights out!


* * * * * *

~SONG FOR THE DAY

 

 

 

 

 

maryelizabethmusic.com

 

~ ~ ~

~INTERESTING HAIRDO FOR THE DAY

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

~TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

~ ~ ~ 

"A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made.  The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air."

~Eric Sloane~

 

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."

~Albert Camus~

"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree."

~Emily Bronte~

 

"The wind-blown leaves turn

Dancing the golden sunlight

across the tired floor."

~Matt Dimmic~
 

 

*First photion reblogged
*Second photion courtesy of chibird

 

~ ~ ~

~FALL, FALL, FALL ☺

 

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

~FALL PHOTO FOR THE DAY

 

Bruges, Belgium

 

*Photo reblogged

 

~ ~ ~

~POEM FOR THE DAY

MY "PATCH OF BLUE"

~By Mary Newland Carson~

There's a bit of sky across the street

Which I have learned to love,

One end of it rests on the house tops high,

The other on the heavens above.

It looks most beautiful at times

And has been such a comfort, too,

That when I look thro' my windowpane

I call it my "Patch of Blue."

When I think of God's great universe

With its vast expanse of sky,

And of those who can roam from sea to sea

Without a thought of why

This wondrous joy is given to them

By a God so kind and true,

I wonder if they are quite as glad

As I, for my "Patch of Blue."

I call it mine: God's gift to me,

From September until June.

It heals my hurt; it warms my heart;

And I'm sure that very soon

The lesson that it teaches me

Will warm me thro' and thro';

For it seems as though God's blessed smile

Shines thro' my "Patch of Blue."

I've seen it when light, fleecy clouds

Went scurrying 'cross its face

And made that tiny bit of sky

Look like a bit of lace.

I've also seen the storm clouds burst,

And winds go rushing thro',

But I always knew that once again

I'd see my "Patch of Blue."

I've watched it when the wintry snows

Had hidden it from sight,

But I have known full well that soon

It would once more be bright.

When sunset drops her curtain down

She turns to golden hue

That little bit of lovely sky

That was my "Patch of Blue."

When I lie upon my bed at night,

With a heart full of pain and fear,

I think of the twinkling stars out there

That shine so bright and clear.

I think of the radiant, glorious moon

Shining the whole night thro',

And I know that the morning sun will bring

Once more my "Patch of Blue."

I've looked across that bit of sky

As the twilight hour drew near,

And thought of one in that "Great Beyond"

Who was to me most dear.

He was such a very little lad,

Only four years old,

When he passed the portals thro'

And he's still waiting for me there

Beyond my "Patch of Blue."

There are other dear ones over there

Whose journey here is o'er.

I shall see them sometime, somewhere,

At rest on the shining shore.

Dear Lord! Please help my life to be

So patient, kind and true

That when at last my race is run

I can cross my "Patch of Blue."

And then one day--when I tried to look

I found I could not see.

In my despair I cried aloud,

"O God--it cannot be

That I must nevermore enjoy

This precious, precious view,

That I must learn to do without

My little 'Patch of Blue.'"

Oh! Friend o' mine! Are you shut in?

Does your life seem hard to bear?

Does your heart grow sick with longing

For the joys you once could share?

"I'll go with you," saith the Master,

And his promises are true;

So we're sure that in His blessed arms

We'll find our "Patch of Blue."

*Source of images

 ~ ~ ~