“Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

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  I HEARD a thousand blended notes   While in a grove I sate reclined,  In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts  Bring sad thoughts to the mind.  To her fair works did Nature link  The human soul that through me ran;  And much it grieved my heart to think  What Man has made of Man.  Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,  The periwinkle trail’d its wreaths;  And ’tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes.  The birds around me hopp’d and play’d,  Their thoughts I cannot measure,—  But the least motion which they made  It seem’d a thrill of pleasure.  The budding twigs spread out their fan  To catch the breezy air;  And I must think, do all I can,  That there was pleasure there.  If this belief from heaven be sent,  If such be Nature’s holy plan,  Have I not reason to lament  What Man has made of Man?

Randoms

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Ed Welch writes, "It feels so right – so spiritual – to live with regrets. It means you feel bad for the wrong things you have done or think you have done, and that sounds like a good thing. If you forget those wrongs, you are acting like they were no big deal."  (ht: Tim Challies)

Dr. Walt Kaiser comments on Egypt and Isaiah 19.

Dr. William Larkin asks, "What does the New Testament Have to Do With Missions?"

This is one way to hear "the music of the spheres!"

Knockin' on Heaven's Door.  "Through our Christian lives, we will pass through valleys and low points.  It's not a matter of if, but when."  

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