Unless We See...

"Unless I see the nail marks in his hands...I will not believe it." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands..." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!" --John 20:25-28

Unless we see in his hand the print of the nail that marred it
Unless we see in his side the mark of the spear that scarred it
We are right to refuse to believe, to challenge his claims and doubt them
For the wounds are the sign of the Christ, and He will not come without them.

Vain are the saviors of men who can show no wounds for a token
False are the christs of the world whose hearts have never been broken
We are right to reject their claim, since only the One may dare it
We are right to deny their name, since only the One may bear it.

Can they spread the nail-pierced palm that the finger of doubt may feel it?
Uncover the riven side and to doubting eyes reveal it?
The wounds are the sign of the Christ, and only the One can show it
And only those who have touched His wounds will prove Him Lord and know it.

For it is not enough for our faith that others have seen and known Him
But each for himself must see, and each for himself must own Him
And each must touch the print of the nails, the proof of His claim receiving
And each must cry, "My Lord, my God," and fall at His feet, believing.

--Annie Johnson Flint

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Holy and happy and peaceful...

THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

I question if Christmas can ever be "merry"
Except to the heart of an innocent child.
For when time has taught us the meaning of sorrow
And sobered the spirits that once were so wild,
When all the green graves that lie scattered behind us
Like milestones are marking the length of the way,
And echoes of voices that no more shall greet us
Have saddened the chimes of the bright Christmas Day,
We may not be merry, the long years forbid it,
The years that have brought us such manifold smarts,
But we may be happy, if only we carry
The Spirit of Christmas deep down in our hearts...

...Hence I shall not wish you the old "Merry Christmas,"
Since that is of shadowless childhood a part,
But one that is holy and happy and peaceful,
The Spirit of Christmas deep down in your heart.

--Annie Johnson Flint

I wish for you, my dear friends, a Christmas that is holy and happy and peaceful!

All These Things...

In a factory building there are wheels and gearings,
There are cranks and pulleys, beltings tight or slack,
Some are whirling swiftly, some are turning slowly,
Some are thrusting forward, some are pulling back;

Some are smooth and silent, some are rough and noisy,
Pounding, rattling, clanking, moving with a jerk;
In a wild confusion, in a seeming chaos,
Lifting, pushing, driving, but they do their work.

From the mightiest lever to the tiniest pinion,
All things move together for the purpose planned;
And behind the working is a mind controlling,
And a force directing, and a guiding hand.

So all things are working for the Lord's beloved;
Some things might be hurtful if alone they stood;
Some might seem to hinder; some might draw us backward;
But they work together, and they work for good;

All the thwarted longings, all the stern denials,
All the contradictions, hard to understand.
And the force that holds them, speeds them and retards them,
Stops and starts and guides them, is our Father's hand.

--Annie Johnson Flint