That Time of Year

[It’s that time of year!]

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

[ Lewis Carroll]

~ Amen ~

 

Streams in The Desert

 

Revelation 21:10

Life is a steep climb, and it is always encouraging to have those ahead of us “call back” and cheerfully summon us to higher ground. We all climb together, so we should help one another.

The mountain climbing of life is serious, but glorious, business; it takes strength and steadiness to reach the summit. And as our view becomes better as we gain altitude, and as we discover things of importance, we should “call back” our encouragement to others.

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back—

It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;

And if, perhaps, Faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low,

Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.

Call back, and tell me that he went with you into the storm;

Call back, and say he kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;

That, when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,

He bore you up and held you where the lofty air was still.

O friend, call back, and tell me for I cannot see your face;

They say it glows with triumph, and your feet sprint in the race;

But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim,

And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of him.

But if you’ll say he heard you when your prayer was but a cry,

And if you’ll say he saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky—

If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend, call back—

It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track.

[Selected]