Somebody’s Home

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 Just can’t come to the door right now At the gate, but missed the gun I can't start, but I'm not done Fortune never smiled at me It left me on my own Someone cracked the hour glass Shattered time and scattered past Set in stone, you can't un-cast The die once thrown And I'm in here with the blinds all drawn I can hear you but I can't respond Though the lights are on, just don't give up 'cause somebody's home Somebody's home Your eyes betray your sympathy But your eyes can't see inside of me Maybe there's nothing to see I guess we'll never know And I'm in here with the blinds all drawn I can hear you but I can't respond Though the lights are on, just don't give up 'cause somebody's home Somebody's home All the things I never said All still here inside my head All the plans you had for me All that will never be Oh, but don't give up on me I see more than you think I see Can anyone hear me, oh? And I'm in her...

"A Destructive Ministry Also is Necessary"

J. Edwin Orr tells of the tour where, "we walked round a beautiful garden which occupied a former piece of waste land. The gardener showed us round. 'Those are beautiful roses,' we said to him. 'I planted them,' replied the gardener, with justified pride. 'What a beautifully-cut hedge!' we remarked next. 'I trimmed that,' he said.

At the garden gate, we found an old fellow watching a smoking heap of refuse. 'What have you been doing?'

'Working at the garden,' he said.

'Well then, what have you to show for your labour?'

'Nothing, Sir,' he replied.

'Then you cannot have been working!' we told him.

'Sir,' he asserted, 'When we came here, this garden was a piece of waste land, overgrown with weeds, full of stones and sand, swampy in one corner, and pretty hopeless all round.' We got interested. 'Well, sir,' he went on, 'I broke up the land, and I destroyed the weeds, and dug out the stones, and carted away the sand, and it was my job to drain the swampy corner.' We listened with growing appreciation. 'I am saying nothing against the other fellow who planted the garden. He did his job well. But where would his planting come in if I hadn't first rooted out and destroyed the weeds?'

Both men's labour was necessary, but the rooting-out and destruction of weeds preceded the planting of flowers and shrubs."

Read J. Edwin Orr's article here.

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