Out in the Fields with God

The little cares that fretted me

I lost them yesterday

Among the fields, above the sea,

Among the winds at play,

Among the lowing of the herds,

The rustling of the trees,

Among the singing of the birds,

The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might happen,

I cast them all away,

Among the clover-scented grass,

Among the new-mown hay,

Among the husking of the corn,

Where drowsy poppies nod,

Where ill thoughts die and good are born-

Out in the fields with God

(Anonymous)

Learn to trust in God. Learn to go to Him who is mighty to save.... Tell the dear Savior just what you need. He that said, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not,” will not reject your prayer. But He will send His angels to guard you and protect you from the evil angels, and will make it easy for you to do right. Then it will be much easier than if you should try in your own strength. You may ever feel like this: “I have asked God to help me, and He will do it. I will do right in His strength. I will not grieve the dear angels that God has appointed to watch over me. I will never take a course to drive them from me.”—An Appeal to the Youth, 55, 56. TA 18.2

ROSES

Roses and delightfulness… roses and fairy-tale moments when I come out at the tender solemn dawn-time to the garden, and stand out, and throw my head far back and I look up, up… to watch the pale sky slowly changing, and flushing, and the garden smelling of roses—sunshine like globules of glories over green wet grasses, as marvelous unknown things start to take place in my heart. 

A wondrous quietness of the soul, a hush of the spirit, as Jesus’s precious presence is felt all around, and my heart stands still waiting for more—to be filled; to be the vessel in which his Holy Spirit dwells… right at that moment, here, in the garden, at the extraordinary unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun. 

All in You, Breath by Breath

Father, grant my heart’s desire:
All in You, breath by breath.
Make me, by Your wind and fire,
All like Christ in life and death,
Drawing from You alone
All I say, all I do,
Holy and all Your own,
Working, resting here in You.

Single-minded like Your Son,
All in You, breath by breath,
This I pray: Your will be done.
Have Your way in life and death.
Yours all my strength and time!
All my heart be Your home!
All, all You are is mine!
Father, may Your kingdom come!
Father, may Your kingdom come!
Father, may Your kingdom come!

WORDS:  Ken Bible
MUSIC:  Traditional Folk Tune and Ken Bible
© 2017 LNWhymns.com. CCLI Song #7102231.

BIRDS

The clouds are my family.  

When you cannot find me,

it is because my sisters

and brothers have called me.

We are singing circles of prayers about the earth...

~James McGrath (b.1928), "Bird," written in the 1970s, published in Dreaming Invisible Voices, 2009 

Job 35:11

Who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth and makes us wiser than the birds of the air?'

Job 38:41
Who provides food for the raven when its young cry out to God as they wander about for lack of food?

Psalm 50:11
I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are Mine.

Psalm 104:27
All creatures look to You to give them their food in due season.

Psalm 104:28
When You give it to them, they gather it up; when You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good things.

Psalm 147:9
He provides food for the animals, and for the young ravens when they call.

Matthew 10:29
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.

SUMMER DAYS

I sit on top of my days and count my hours in rose petals. Count them in quiet blessings too, and in the fact that though my feelings come and go, God’s love for me does not. 

The month of August has its own song to sing. A song that carries through its notes, the color of emeralds and the murmur of rivers, and the garden sits upon its minutes and sings a proper tune. The tunes and sounds of bees and wasps floating about the flowery clusters of the Virginia creeper, wild grasses swaying in midday breezes and the fire that solitude presses against my lips. 

August, is rose vases in the house and salmon and summer squash with basil and pineapple chucks. Happy, and blessed beyond dreams to be able to spend my hours here—under the breezes of August and the songs of summer days. 

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

Refrain

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

Refrain

I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.

Refrain


Words: Charles Austin Miles (1912)

Look at the trees, look at the birds, look at the clouds, look at the stars... and if you have eyes you will be able to see that the whole existence is joyful. Everything is simply happy. Trees are happy for no reason; they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents and they are not going to become rich and they will never have any bank balance. Look at the flowers — for no reason. It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are. ~Osho

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. ~e.e. cummings

August is the cathedral of summer. And yet, if I sit on my chair on the upper floors and look outside my window, I see impending changes taking place on the horizon. Far in the outlying distance, over to where the mountains are, even though you can’t see them, but you know they’re there—faithful as they are; like some ancient proverb erased from the horizon by an utterly impassive sky, there lays secrets untold.

Indications of what’s to come are forming. For there, in its very own cathedral of summer stand the tall trees, canopies already changing into their muted greens and burnt reds outfits, and the morning sun is the mayor indicator of it all; for it has started the process of mellowing down, and it has already acquired that yellow tinted quality to it—muffled and hazy, so proper of the autumnal light. Yes, like children at play, we are tumbling down that old hill called 'summer' onto the new season. 

Signs, signs… the signs are all around us.  Just as with the signs representative of the turning of seasons, Christ described the many and varied conditions that would precede His return. They included such things as deception, wars, famines, disease epidemics, earthquakes and religious persecution, all culminating in an unprecedented time of worldwide calamity (Matthew 24: 3-29). 

Just before Jesus’ return nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and great earthquakes shall be in divers places, and famines, and pestilences; and fearful sights and great signs shall there be from heaven. And there shall be signs in the sun and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken. (Luke 21 v.10-11, 25-26).

Song at Sunset

by Walt Whitman 

SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!

Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past!

Inflating my throat—you, divine average!

You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
 

Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness,

Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection,

Natural life of me, faithfully praising things;

Corroborating forever the triumph of things.

Knowing Jesus

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever. A voice says, ‘Call out.’ Then he answered, ‘What shall I call out?’ All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field.” – Isaiah 40:6-8 

We are but dust

Our days are count in petals 

Our deeds like the beat of wings 

And yet… 

“Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust. But the lovingkindness of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, and His righteousness to children's children” – Psalm 103:13-18.

Autumnal days

The new season is upon us now.  A rather enchanting breeze is shaking shaggy tired heads of maples and black oaks, and sassafras, willows and sugarberries are turning thin and sparse in leaves.  I love these feelings of wonder and joy so proper of the pre-autumnal season, when the land starts its needed slumber, and the atmosphere conveys this delicious tinge of winter and there is this awareness of something inexplicable, and extraordinarily glorious transpiring as your perceptions awakens to God's creative powers in Nature.  My heart doesn't love farewells, yet I still find a reflection of my soul in the vanishing of life. 

My heart embraces the hope that autumnal days bring.  I walk in the garden, and wait for the falling leaf.  October's enchantment swirls around me.  Like a grasshopper's song I hear it.  High in the maple trees its voice rings. I am a dancing autumn leaf, a locust slowly grinding the silence that October brings under a moon waning and broken, and tired with summer.  Over my soul October murmurs its benediction, while I gaze at a garden so ready to sleep.  I welcome you, autumn!

I can never seem to have enough time of my days to enjoy my little life thoroughly and deeply.  There's so much my senses want to drink-in, and feel, and hear and... live!  Days are magical.  The heat of summer has receded and cool breezes sway away the garden to a sweet sleep all day long. I hear the crows preparing their winter dwelling places somewhere deep in the woods and I want to follow them there... follow them into the woods, which these days are starting to thin out, letting extra sunshine soak its floors in light and magical goodness.

And then, it is not the moon, oh I tell you... it is the begonias enchanting my heart; still beautifying the gardens as they are, in their deep pinks and salmon shades, and my little world had deposed its summer garments and it is wearing the colors of cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon. Oh I am an October child for sure! By right of birth, and by right of the soul... 

Letting go...

Day by day

Day by day

Strolling my gardens...

Day by day, and with each passing moment,

Strength I find, to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,

I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He Whose heart is kind beyond all measure

Gives unto each day what He deems best—

Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day, the Lord Himself is near me

With a special mercy for each hour;

All my cares He fain would bear, and cheer me,

He Whose Name is Counselor and Power;

The protection of His child and treasure

Is a charge that on Himself He laid;

“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”

This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then in every tribulation

So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,

That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation

Offered me within Thy holy Word.

Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,

Ever to take, as from a father’s hand,

One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,

Till I reach the promised land.

Words: Karolina W. Sandell-Berg, 1865 (Blott en dag, ett ögonblick i sänder); translated from Swedish to English by Andrew L. Skoog (1856-1934).

As I have loved you...

Seasons change

Roses in the autumnal garden

In the depths of winter