Streams in The Desert

Seek Communion

People will reside again in his shade; they will plant and harvest grain in abundance. They will blossom like a vine, and his fame will be like the wine from Lebanon.

[Hos 14:7]

The day closed with heavy showers. The plants in my garden were beaten down before the pelting storm, and I saw one flower that I had admired for its beauty and loved for its fragrance exposed to the pitiless storm. The flower fell, shut up its petals, dropped its head; and I saw that all its glory was gone. “I must wait till next year,” I said, “before I see that beautiful thing again.”

That night passed, and morning came; the sun shone again, and the morning brought strength to the flower. The light looked at it, and the flower looked at the light. There was contact and communion, and power passed into the flower. It held up its head, opened its petals, regained its glory, and seemed fairer than before. I wonder how it took place—this feeble thing coming into contact with the strong thing, and gaining strength!

I cannot tell how it is that I should be able to receive into my being a power to do and to bear by communion with God, but I know It is a fact.

Are you in peril through some crushing, heavy trial? Seek this communion with Christ, and you will receive strength and be able to conquer. “I will strengthen thee.”

YESTERDAY’S GRIEF

The rain that fell a-yesterday is ruby on the roses,

Silver on the poplar leaf, and gold on willow stem;

The grief that chanced a-yesterday is silence that incloses

Holy loves when time and change shall never trouble them.

The rain that fell a-yesterday makes all the hillsides glisten,

Coral on the laurel and beryl on the grass;

The grief that chanced a-yesterday has taught the soul to listen

For whispers of eternity in all the winds that pass.

O faint-of-heart, storm-beaten, this rain will gleam tomorrow,

Flame within the columbine and jewels on the thorn,

Heaven in the forget-me-not; though sorrow now be sorrow,

Yet sorrow shall be, beauty in the magic of the morn.

~ Katherine Lee Bates ~

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