NOW thank we all our God,
With heart, and hands, and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done,
In Whom His world rejoices;
Who, from our mother’s arms,
Hath bless’d us on our way
With countless gifts of love,
And still is ours to-day.
LOVE is watchful, and sleeping, slumbereth not. Though weary, it is not tired; though pressed, it is not straitened; though alarmed, it is not confounded: but as a lively flame and burning torch, it forces its way upwards, and securely passes through all. If any man love, he knoweth what is the cry of this voice. For it is a loud cry in the ears of God, the mere ardent affection of the soul, when it saith, “My God, my Love, Thou art all mine, and I am all Thine.”
Thomas a Kempis
IF there were no God, the soul that had loved Him most, and could pretend to no joy without His presence, would be the first to miss Him.
THERE is need, bitter need, to bring back into men’s minds, that to live is nothing, unless to live be to know Him by whom we live.