Some Quotes about Fatherhood

“A good father is one of the most unsung, unpraised, unnoticed, and yet one of the most valuable assets in our society.” Billy Graham

“One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters.” George Herbert

“The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.” Harriet Beecher Stowe

“The father of godly children has cause for joy. What a pleasure to have children who are wise.”—Proverbs 23:24

If you have or had a good father, give thanks! If your father was not a good role model, remember that we all have a gracious and perfect Father in heaven. Happy Father’s Day!

For more about fathers see:

Show Me the Father–Movie Review

Children of the Heavenly Father

Modern Parents Vintage Values by Sissy Goff and Melissa Trevathan–Book Review

Budding Again

I don’t know about anyone else, but after a long “season” of enduring all the COVID-19 restrictions, this poem by George Herbert resonates with me. Once again, I am feeling energized and hopeful. This is true of life in general — we go through dark times, times of pain or grief, but through our hope in Christ, those times pass and we “bud again.”

The Flower

BY GEORGE HERBERTHow fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring;
         To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
                      Grief melts away
                      Like snow in May,
         As if there were no such cold thing.

         Who would have thought my shriveled heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
         Quite underground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown,
                      Where they together
                      All the hard weather,
         Dead to the world, keep house unknown.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell
         And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
                      We say amiss
                      This or that is:
         Thy word is all, if we could spell.

         Oh that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
         Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither;
                      Nor doth my flower
                      Want a spring shower,
         My sins and I joining together.

         But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own,
         Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone
                      Where all things burn,
                      When thou dost turn,
         And the least frown of thine is shown?

         And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
         I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing. Oh, my only light,
                      It cannot be
                      That I am he
         On whom thy tempests fell all night.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide;
         Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us where to bide;
                      Who would be more,
                      Swelling through store,
         Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

For more poems by George Herbert see these posts:

A Poem on Rest by George Herbert

An English Major Moment from Joan

Another English Major Moment

A Poem on Rest by George Herbert

The Pulley

When God first made man,                                                                                                   Having a glass of blessings standing by,                                                                      “Let us”, said he, “pour on him all we can.                                                                     Let the world’s riches, which dispersed lie,                                                                   Contract into a span.”

So strength first made a way;

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.

When almost all was out, God made a stay,

Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,

Rest in the bottom lay.

“For if I should,” said he,

“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,

He would adore my gifts instead of me,

And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;

So both should losers be.

“Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;

Let him be rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

May toss him to my breast.”

by George Herbert

For more poems by George Herbert go to these posts:

An English Major Moment from Joan

Another English Major Moment

A Sabbath Poem

An English Major Moment from Joan

This poem was written by George Herbert, a Welsh-born poet and priest in the Church of England.  It speaks about how our everyday duties can be transformed when our service is dedicated to God and His Glory.

The Elixir

Teach me, my God and King,

         In all things Thee to see,

And what I do in anything

         To do it as for Thee.

         Not rudely, as a beast,

         To run into an action;

But still to make Thee prepossest,

         And give it his perfection.

         A man that looks on glass,

         On it may stay his eye;

Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,

         And then the heav’n espy.

         All may of Thee partake:

         Nothing can be so mean,

Which with his tincture—”for Thy sake”—

         Will not grow bright and clean.

         A servant with this clause

         Makes drudgery divine:

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,

         Makes that and th’ action fine.

         This is the famous stone

         That turneth all to gold;

For that which God doth touch and own

         Cannot for less be told.

Another English Major Moment

George Herbert (3 April 1593 – 1 March 1633) was a Welsh-born poet, orator, and priest of the Church of England. His poetry is associated with the writings of the metaphysical poets. He is known as “one of the foremost British devotional lyricists.  Even if you’re not an English major you enjoy reading his poem, Repentance.

 Lord, I confess my sin is great; 
Great is my sin.
 Oh! gently treat
With thy quick flow'r, thy momentary bloom; 
Whose life still pressing
Is one undressing, 
A steady aiming at a tomb.

Man's age is two hours' work, or three: 
Each day doth round about us see.
Thus are we to delights: but we are all
To sorrows old, 
If life be told
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall.

O let thy height of mercy then
Compassionate short-breathed men.
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression: 
I do confess 
My foolishness; 
My God, accept of my confession.

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, 
Which thou hast pour'd into my soul; 
Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather: 
For if thou stay, 
I and this day, 
As we did rise, we die together.

When thou for sin rebukest man, 
Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan: 
Bitterness fills our bowels; all our hearts
Pine, and decay, 
And dropp away, 
And carry with them th'other parts.

But thou wilt sin and grief destroy; 
That so the broken bones may joy, 
And tune together in a well-set song, 
Full of his praises, 
Who dead men raises; 
Fractures well cur'd make us more strong.

 

Undeserved Love (Agape)

Love (III)

George Herbert, 1593 – 1633

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
	Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
	From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
	If I lacked anything.

“A guest," I answered, “worthy to be here”:
	Love said, “You shall be he.”
“I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
	I cannot look on thee.”
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
	“Who made the eyes but I?”

“Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame
	Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not," says Love, “who bore the blame?”
	“My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down," says Love, “and taste my meat.”
	So I did sit and eat.