Archives: Episodes

Ring Out, Wild Bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the time;
Ring out, ring out, my mournful rhymes.
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

—Alfred Tennyson.

Alternate Reading: Exodus 20:1-17.

Youth at the Parting of the Way

In the lone stillness of the New-Year’s night
An old man at his window stood, and turned
His dim eyes to the firmament, where, bright
And pure, a million rolling planets burned,—
And then down on the earth all cold and white,
And felt that moment that of all who mourned
And groaned upon its bosom, none there were
With his deep wretchedness and great despair.
For near him lay his grave,—hidden from view
Not by the flowers of youth, but by the snows
Of age alone. In torturing thought he flew
Over the past, and on his memory rose
That picture of his life which conscience drew,
With all its fruits,—diseases, sins, and woes;
A ruined frame, a blighted soul, dark years
Of agony, remorse, and withering fears.
Like specters now his bright youth-days came back,
And that cross-road of life where, when a boy,
His father placed him first: its right-hand trade
Leads to a land of glory, peace, and joy,
Its left to wilderness waste and black,
Where snakes and plagues and poison-winds destroy.
Which had he trod? Alas! the serpents hung
Coiled round his heart, their venom on his tongue.
Sunk in unutterable grief, he cried,
“Restore my youth to me! O God, restore
My morn of life! O father! be my guide,
And let me, let me choose my path once more!”
But on the wide waste air his ravings died
Away, and all was silent as before.
His youth had glided by, fleet as the wave;
His father came not,—he was in his grave.
Amid these overboiling bursts of feeling,
Rich music, heralding the young year’s birth,
Rolled from a distant steeple, like the pealing
Of some celestial organ o’er the earth:
Milder emotions over him came stealing;
He felt the soul’s unpurchaseable worth.
“Return! ” again he cried, imploringly;
“O my lost youth! return, return to me!”
And youth returned, and age withdrew its terrors;
Still was he young,—for he had dreamed the whole;
But faithful is the image conscience mirrors
When whirlwind passions darken not the soul.
Alas! too real were his sins and errors;
Too truly had he made the earth his goal;
He wept, and thanked his God that with the will,
He had the power, to choose the right path still.

—Jean Paul Richter.

Alternate Reading: Luke 3:1-20.

Destiny

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.

—Edward Fitzgerald.

Ere suns and moons could wax and wane,
Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled
The heavens, God thought on me His child:
Ordained a life for me, arrayed
Its circumstances every one
To the minutest.

—Robert Browning.

Behold the rocky wall
That down its sloping sides
Pours the swift rain drops, blending, as they fall,
In rushing river tides!

Yon stream, whose sources run
Turned by a pebble’s edge,
Is Athabasca, rolling towards the sun
Through the cleft mountain-ledge.

The slender rill had strayed,
But for the slanting stone,
To evening’s ocean, with the tangled braid
Of foam-flecked Oregon.

So from the heights of will
Life’s parting stream descends,
And, as a moment turns its slender rill,
Each widening torrent bends—

From the same cradle’s side,
From the same mother’s knee—
One to long darkness and the frozen tide,
One to the Peaceful Sea!

—Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Alternate Reading: Joshua 1: 5-9.

John, the Baptizer, and his Message

And John said to the crowds that wait to be baptized by him:

“You brood of vipers I who has prompted you to seek refuge from the coming judgment? Let your lives, then, prove your repentance; and do not begin to say among yourselves ‘Abraham is our ancestor,’ for I tell you that out of these very stones God is able to raise descendants for Abraham! Already, indeed, the axe is lying at the root of the trees. Therefore every tree that fails to bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”

“What are we to do then?” the people asked.

“Let the man who has two coats,” answered John, “share with him who has none; and the man who has food do the same.”

Even tax-gatherers came to be baptized, and said to John:

“Teacher, what are we to do? “

“Do not collect more than you have authority to demand,” John answered. And when some soldiers on active service asked “And we—what are we to do?” he said:

“Never use violence, or exact anything by false accusation; and be content with your pay.”

Then, while the people were in suspense, and were all debating with themselves whether John could be the Christ, John, addressing them all, said:

“I, indeed, baptize you with water; but there is coming one more powerful than I, and I am not fit even to unfasten his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing-fan is in his hand, that he may clear his threshing-floor, and store the grain in his barn, but the chaff he will burn with inextinguishable fire.”

And so with many different exhortations John told his Good News to the people. But Prince Herod, being rebuked by John respecting Herodias, the wife of Herod’s brother, and for all the evil things that he had done, crowned them all by shutting John up in prison.

—Luke.

The Boyhood of Jesus

When the child’s parents had done everything enjoined by the Law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth.

The child grew and became strong and wise, and the blessing of God was upon him.

Every year the child’s parents used to go to Jerusalem at the Passover Festival. When Jesus was twelve years old, they went according to custom to Jerusalem, and had finished their visit; but, when they started to return, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, without their knowing it. Thinking that he was with their fellow-travellers, they went one day’s journey before searching for him among their relations and acquaintances; and then, as they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching everywhere for him. It was not till the third day that they found him in the Temple Courts, sitting among the Teachers, now listening to them, now asking them questions. All who listened to him marvelled at his intelligence and his answers. His parents were amazed when they saw him, and his mother said to him:

“My child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.”

“What made you search for me?” he answered. “Did not you know that I must be in my Father’s House? “

—Luke.

Jesus devoted nine-tenths of His entire life on earth to His own home, thereby indicating in the most eloquent manner possible what God thinks of the supreme importance of the home.

Don’t Send My Boy Where Your Girl Can’t Go

Don’t send my boy where your girl can’t go
And say, there’s no danger for boys, you know,
Because they all have their wild oats to sow;
There is no more excuse for my boy to be low
Than your girl. Then please don’t tell him so.
Don’t send my boy where your girl can’t go;
For a boy or a girl, sin is sin, you know,
And my baby boy’s hands are as dean and white
And his heart as pure as your girt’s to-night.

—Anon.

Little Children with Jesus

Permit the little children to come unto me; forbid them not: for to such belongeth the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall in no wise enter therein. And He took them in His arms, and blessed them, laying His hands upon them.

—Jesus.

The Baby

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, my dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.

—George MacDonald.

Alternate Reading: Luke 1:68-79

Motherhood

Lord, who ordainest for mankind
Benignant toils and tender cares,
We thank Thee for the ties that bind
The mother to the child she bears.

All-Gracious! grant to those who bear
A mother’s charge, the strength and light
To guide the feet that own their care
In ways of Love, and Truth, and Right.

—William Cullen Bryant.

A mother is a mother still
The holiest thing alive.

—S. T. Colbridge.

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.

—W. M. Thackeray.

For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

—W. R. Wallace.

Womanliness means only motherhood:
All love begins and ends there,—roams enough,
But, having run the circle, rests at home.

—Robert Browning.

Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall;
A mothers secret hope outlives them all.

—Oliver Wendell Holmes.

In the heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among the burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of “Mother.”

—Edgar Allan Poe.

Alternate Reading: Luke 1: 46-55.

The Birth of Jesus

Among others Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem, the town of David, in Judea—because he belonged to the family and house of David—to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was about to become a mother… While they were there her time came, and she gave birth to her first child, a son. And because there was no room for them in the inn, she swathed him round and laid him in a manger.

In that same country-side were shepherds out in the open fields, watching their flocks that night, when an angel of the Lord suddenly stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were seized with fear.

“Have no fear,” the angel said. “For I bring you good news of a great joy in store for all the nation. This day there has been born to you, in the town of David, a Savior, who is Christ and Lord. And this shall be the sign for you. You will find the infant swathed, and lying in a manger.” Then suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and singing—

“Glory to God on high, And on earth peace among men, in whom he delights.”

-Luke

Home, the House of God

I set out early to find God.
I found Him not on the hot sands of the desert,
Nor in the solitude of the wilderness,
Nor in the thronged market-place,
Nor in the confused halls of learning,
Nor in the temples of dogma and creed.
Then, returning late, I found Him,
Waiting to supply all my soul’s need,
In the shrine of the heart—Home.

This is a reading of Part 1 of “Home: The Savior of Civilization” by J. E. McCulloch. It explains what a home council is, why work done in the home is of paramount importance, and what to expect from the episodes that follow.

While following episodes of this podcast will only be a few minutes each, this one is an hour and twenty minutes.

This shold give you a flavor of what to expect. Here are a few quotes from the text:

“We moderns are incurably conceited over our inventions and machines. We pride ourselves on being able to talk to a friend a thousand miles away and forget that a far more important thing is the thought we express when we do talk. We can fly a hundred miles an hour and how proud we are when we alight I But we forget that almost any good Greek twenty-three centuries ago could travel in an ox-cart and teach more truth than we can possibly think of and teach it faster. It is not how fast we can travel nor how far we can convey our words that counts, but how well we can think and how sincerely we feel and how genuine is our message when we arrive.”

“There never was, and there never can be, a club, or society, or party, or anything else that the sun shines on, important enough, or attractive enough, to justify members of the family in habitually neglecting this school of character and fellowship. If one’s soul is worth more than a little gold or pleasure, he should do this thing seriously and in dead earnest.”

“When one puts business or pleasure above his home, he that moment starts on the down grade to soul ruin. The loss of a fortune is nothing compared with the loss of home. When the club becomes more attractive to any man than his home, it is time for him to confess in bitter shame that he has failed to measure up to the supreme opportunity of his life and has flunked in the final test of true manhood. No other success can compensate for failure in the home. This is the one thing of limitless potentialities on earth. The poorest shack of a home in which love prevails over a united family is of greater value to God and future humanity than the richest bank on earth. In such a home God can work miracles and will work miracles.”

“Pure hearts in a pure home are always in whispering distance of Heaven.”