Sandhill Cranes

Abe the Christian

Today at 10am Abe Lincoln is speaking at the First United Methodist Church on being a Christian. My first reaction to this, not really delving into the subject, it to say, another myth foisted upon a gullible and dumbed down Southern society. But then, I am sure after 203 years, ole Abe has had time to grow in the faith of Lee and Jackson. My thought is, if you have to convince folks you are a Christian, you probably aren't. Did Lee or Jackson go about trying to convince anyone they were thus? By their words and actions they proved their metal. Lincoln, by his actions to me proved otherwise.
I guess now I have to go and see for myself, see if this Abraham Lincoln was not only the be all to end all, but now a Christian.

Memoirs of Whitfield

Whitfield's Preaching

from the Family Sabbath-Day Miscellany by Charles Goodrich, 1847.

There was nothing in the appearance of this extraordinary man which would lead you to suppose that a Felix would tremble before him. "He was something about the middle stature, well-proportioned, and remarkable for a native gracefulness of manner. His complexion was very fair, his features regular, and his dark blue eyes small and lively. In recovering from the measles, he had contracted a squint with one of them, but this peculiarity rather rendered the expression of his countenance more remarkable than in any degree lessened the effects of its common sweetness. His voice excelled both in melody and compass, and in its fine modulations was happily accompanied by that grace and action which he possessed in an eminent degree, and which has been said to be the chief requisite in an orator." To have seen him when he first commenced, one would have thought him anything but enthusiastic and glowing, but as he proceeded, his heart warmed with his subject, and his manner became impetuous and animated, till, forgetful of every thing around him, he seemed to kneel at the throne of Jehovah, and beseech in agony for his fellow beings.
After he had finished his prayer, he knelt a long time in profound silence, and so powerfully had it affected the most heartless of his audience, that a stillness like that of the tomb pervaded the whole house.
Before he commenced his sermon, long, darkening clouds crowded the bright sunny sky of the morning, and swept their dull shadows over the building, in fearful augury of the storm.
His text was, "Strive to enter in at the straight gate, for many I say unto you shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
"See that emblem of human life," said he, as he pointed to a shadow that was flitting across the floor. "It passed for a moment, and concealed the brightness of heaven from our view---but it is gone.  And where will ye be, my hearers, when your lives have passed away like that dark cloud? Oh, my dear friends, I see thousands sitting attentive, with theirs eyes fixed on the poor unworthy preacher. In a few days we shall all meet at the judgement seat of Christ. We shall form a part of the vast assembly which will gather before his throne, and every eye behold the judge. With a voice, whose call you must obey and answer, he will inquire whether on earth you strove to enter in at the straight gate---whether you were supremely devoted to God---whether your hearts were absorbed in him.  My blood runs cold when I think how many of you shall then seek to enter in and shall not be able. Oh, what plea can you make before the Judge of the whole earth? Can you say it has been your whole endeavor to mortify the flesh with its affections and lusts; that your life has been one long effort to do the will of God? No! you must answer, I made myself easy in the world by flattering myself that all would end well, but I have deceived my own soul and am lost.
"You, O false and hollow Christians, of what avail will it be that you have done many things---that you have read much in the sacred word---that you have made long prayers---that you have attended religious duties, and appeared holy in the eyes of men?  What will all this be, if, instead of loving him supremely, you have been supposing you should exalt yourself to heaven by acts really polluted and unholy?
"And you, rich man, wherefore do you hoard your silver? Wherefore count the price you have received for him whom you every day crucify in your love of gain? Why, that when you are too poor to buy a drop of cold water, your beloved son may be rolled in hell in his chariot, pillowed and cushioned about him."His eye gradually lighted up as he proceeded, till, towards the close, it seemed to sparkle with celestial fire.
"Oh sinner!" he exclaimed, "by all your hopes of happiness, I beseech you to repent. Let not the wrath of God be awakened. Let not the fires of eternity be kindled against you. See there!" said he, pointing to the lighting which played on the corner of the pulpit, "tis a glance from the angry eye of Jehovah! Hark!" continued he, raising his finger in a listening attitude, as the distant thunder grew louder and louder, and broke in a tremendous crash over the building, "it was the voice of the Almighty, as he passed in his anger."
As the sound died away, he covered his face with his hands, and knelt beside his pulpit, apparently lost in inward and intense prayer. The storm passed rapidly by, and the sun bursting forth in his might, threw across the heavens a magnificent arch of peace. Rising, and pointing to the beautiful object, he exclaimed, "Look upon the rainbow, and praise him that made it, very  beautiful it is in the brightness thereof. It compasseth  the heavens about with glory, and the hands of the Most High have bended it."

Joe

by Minnie Erwin

(The following poem was submitted by Stanley Blake of Berry. Joe a beagle hound was raised by Blake's Blue Grass Farm Kennels, which went out of business recently. Joe was sold to an E.F.Tully of Southbridge, Mass. One February day, Mr. Tully went hunting with "Joe". When he failed to return after two days, a party was sent out to hunt for him. They found him frozen in the snow, and over his body, standing guard, was "Joe", stiff with cold and well-nigh exhausted. ed)

From an old-yellowed newspaper clipping. The photograph above is of my father on his death bed with his dog Rowdy. After my father's death on March 12th of last year, Rowdy was given to a friend of my sister, an older gentleman who has a farm, of which we are told, Rowdy is quite happy.

No soldier with a sword and plume
No famous man was he,
But just a simple beagle hound
Of common pedigree.
Yet in the books the angels keep
Of noble deeds, I know,
There is a broad and unblotted page,
That bears the name of "Joe".
His master to the wintry woods
Went forth to hunt one day
The wine of life was in his veins,
His heart was light and gay.
New rabbit tracks in plenty
Crossed his pathway to and fro;
His gun was ready in his hands
And at his side was "Joe."
But death was lurking
In the depth of dell and dingy dark;
His aim is always straight
and sure.
The hunter was his mark.
Above his master's silent
shape
Fast stiffening in the snow,
The faithful beagle mounted
guard-
Devoted, patient "Joe".
All day the bitter cold prevailed,
The sentinel of the dead.
All night the stormy weather
beat
Upon his drooping head.
The hoar frost gathered on
his coat.
His freezing blood ran slow,
But still he kept his lonely
watch-
Poor, loyal, loving "Joe".
Three times around the clock
The hour had marched before,
was found
The hunter in his frozen
sleep
Beside the dying hound.
And tears from eyes that
never wept,
Unchecked, were seen to flow.
And fall in pity's gentle dew
Upon the form of "Joe".
Among the heroes that have
died
At duty's post enrolled,
This comrade, constant to the
end,
This dog that had a soul.
And when beyond the mystic
gates
Of life and death we go,
God grant us all as true a
friend
To mourn for us as "Joe".

Sisters Schmidt

Found in the leaf of the old devotional book,from 1888, Golden Words for Daily Counsel, the death notice from 'near this place',of Anna Paulina and Jessie May Schmidt, aged twenty-one and eighteen. They died four days apart. How many long years have they gone forgotten, this faded clipping the only remnant of two lives lived but for a short while?
Who were these young ladies, and what was the cause of their deaths? And the owner of this book, Robector(?) Perry, were you given this while upon a bed of recovery from the Philippine-American War?
Questions that still go uncovered. My friend Carmelo Echevarria did some research and thinks the girls lived in Cedar Key and Jacksonville. I am not certain. Again, I enlist any help from genealogy buffs in helping to find the two sisters who died so young, only four days apart. 





From the book:

Life is a leaf of paper white
Whereon each one of us may write
His word or two, and then comes night.

"Lo! time and space enough," we cry,
"To write an epic!" so we try
Our nibs upon the edge, and die.

Gently begin! though thou have time
But for a line, be that sublime,---
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.

J.R.Lowell

Near this Place

by John Clare

Yesterday word arrived of your long time passing,
Your sister just four days before you passing on.
I wish there was something we could have done,
How did we know your lives were so short lasting?

Twenty-one and eighteen were your young years,
Called on before the wedding gowns were worn.
We would have come before your final morning,
But so far was the journey and many the tears.

No time to drink from the deep wells of love!
Know the blushing rush springing from inside.
To one another your sweetest secrets confide,
Sharing between you things not spoken of.

Or was it the fevered brow that took you from us?
Two sisters confined to beds just feet apart?
Sharing their last longings with weakening hearts,
Had we but known we would have come.

A century from now will they turn the old page,
To discover the yellow clipping tucked away?
Will they wonder who dwelt in Near This Place?
And why you passed at such a tender age?

On this day two bouquets for the sisters gone
Forgotten until the page was opened again
Anna and Jessie at last these flowers we send
Someday we too shall come, the story known.

Home before dawn

Maille of Lace

by john clare

With drochels of lace the grand army marches again,
Upon Olustee's piney fields the long ranks wend.
Folded in breast pockets, recalling the parting day,
Hovering mists shrouding in sand the aiming gray.

What crow calls to warn of this looming surprise?
Who shall close the eyes upturned to blue skies?
Oh Olustee! The day we marched through your pines!
Be kind my friend, the darling you hold once was mine.

On the field of molting rosin a red cross arises,
Cannon's thunder raining cones from the skies.
In dawns scream rose the battalions terrible yell,
Sickles harvesting man after man as they fell.

On pungent turpentine fields a victorious foe,
As nearer, dearer her perfumed lace grows.
Yet from arms of love one by one they fall,
Oh Olustee! Maille of lace protecting all!

Olustee Week

This week-end is the Olustee Battle Re-enactment in Lake City and at the Olustee Battlefield. This year I have sent in early for press credentials so hopefully I shall be able to capture some compelling images. I would like to try and stay beyond night fall, to photograph the ball, and again, dawn's first light, but I am not certain I can without camping out, of which I have not prepared.

How he huffed

End to Spring

2.12.12 Mizpah

Whom having not seen, ye love. I Peter 1:8.

The trust we put in God honors Him much, and draws down great graces. It is impossible not only that God should deceive, but also that He should long let a soul suffer which is perfectly resigned to Him, and resolved to endure everything for His sake.
Nicholas Herman, 1666.

Also known as Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection(c.1614- 12Feb1691) served as a lay brother in a Carmelite monestary in Paris. Christians commonly remember him for the intimacy he expressed concerning his relationship to God as recorded in a book compiled after his death, the classic Christian text, The Practice of the Presence of God.