Looking back … our 170th Anniversary

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This item was proposed by Mr. George Christie, who provided a scanned version of our 170th Anniversary Memory Book. Click here or on the image to the left to view the booklet …

Poem – E.M. Winter

I do not ask that He must prove

His Word is true to me,

And that before I can believe

He first must let me see.

It is enough for me to know

It’s true because he says it’s so;

On His unchanging Word I’ll stand

And Trust, till I can understand.

 

Quoted from Streams in the Desert – August 31st   [do action=”star-rating-block”/]

He Giveth More Grace

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labours increase,
To added affliction He addeth His mercies,
To multiplied trials His multiplied peace.
 
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Fathers’s full giving is only begun.
 
Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.
 
His Love has no limit, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth and giveth and giveth again.
Author: Annie Flint
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CS Lewis – Surprised by Joy

“You must picture me alone in that room at Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England”

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The Convert – G.K Chesterton

After one moment when I bowed my head
And the whole world turned over and came upright,
And I came out where the old road shone white.
I walked the ways and heard what all men said,
Forests of tongues, like autumn leaves unshed,
Being not unlovable but strange and light;
Old riddles and new creeds, not in despite
But softly, as men smile about the dead.

The sages have a hundred maps to give
That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,
They rattle reason out through many a sieve
That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:
And all these things are less than dust to me
Because my name is Lazarus and I live.
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Poem – Anonymous – Heard on RZIM

He came to my desk with a quivering lip, the lesson was done.
“Have you a new sheet for me, dear teacher? I’ve spoiled this one.”
I took his sheet, all soiled and blotted, and gave him a new one all unspotted.
And into his tired heart I cried, “Do better now, my child.”

I went came to the throne with a trembling heart; the day was done.
“Have you a new day for me, dear Master? I’ve spoiled this one.”
He took my day, all soiled and blotted, and gave me a new one all unspotted.
And into my tired heart he cried, “Do better now, my child.”