Without being insensitive to everyone else, I proclaim with heart and soul and mind, glorious happy morning. I know it may be cold and damp somewhere. I know there may be unhappy souls out there; but from where I sit, it is bright sunshine, and there are enough things happening right around me to make me unhappy; but yet I am happy to declare it is a glorious happy morning. It is a morning when we remember that first morn when early in the morning, while it was yet dark, the women went to the tomb to find the stone rolled away, and heard the angel say, "He is not here; for He is risen!"
What joy and exhilaration they felt! What ecstasy! Well friends, you and I can feel the same joy and exhilaration today; for Christ the Lord is risen indeed; and indeed it is a glorious happy morning. Happy and joyous Easter to one and all.
A Tribute To Mothers
ReplyDeleteWhen long ago in Eden’s land
God viewed His proud creation,
He saw at once it could not stand
And so He made a woman.
Alas it was, she first to sin,
And made all men to suffer,
But first she was to know real pain,
For she was the first mother.
A helper she assigned to be,
The man to be her leader,
She plucked his dinner from a tree,
But the fruit was oh, so bitter.
Condemned she was to die, but first,
To know the pain of children.
As Abel’s blood cried from the earth.
The mother’s heart was broken.
From age to age each mother’s breast
Has known the grief and pain,
Of love and labor, life and death,
But rise each day to bear the strain.
And yet her loves’ a gem so pure,
It ceases never still to shine.
Through storm and tempest it endure,
A monument so rare, sublime.
What tribute can mere words portray?
What diadem to crown?
A head so worthy to array,
An empress of such great renown.
A woman is a precious gift,
To mankind oft times undeserved.
But a mother is a treasure chest,
She’s worth her weight again in gold.
Let every mother be exalted,
Upon a golden, lofty throne.
And let her name be ever honored
For the glory all her own.
Let manhood never dethrone her,
Nor yet despoil her majesty.
The queen of Earth and Ether,
Throughout all eternity.
To all mothers high or lowly,
All mothers rich or poor,
Know that you, and you only,
To life’s avenue’s the door.
How precious is a mother’s love!
How warm her tender care.
As gentle as a turtle dove,
Are mothers everywhere.
What father can console a child,
Fretfully tossing through the night?
Like a mother strong yet so mild.
From early dusk to the morning light.
And what man there is without a mother?
Though he king or peasant be.
And when there ever was another,
As brave and loving strong as she?
Kings, princes, soldiers, poets,
Philosophers doctors, lawyers,
Statesmen, politicians, musicians,
Writers, journalists, actors, singers,
Psychologists, psychiatrists, lyricists,
Architects, builders, carpenters, masons,
Engineers, painters, artist, pages,
Rich man, poor man, scholar, knave,
Policeman, doorman, beggar, slave.
All are your sons! Your sons!
Your sons! Your sons! Your Sons!
Your sons! Your sons! Your Sons!
Your sons! Your sons! Your Sons!
Your sons! Your sons! Your Sons!
Prince John Chaber
Cry Out My Soul