Something to think about...

I have many thoughts on the state of our country, but I cannot articulate them like my friend Tara does. Please take a minute and read this post on her blog.

My Jesus, I Love Thee.

As I sat on the porch waiting on the kitchen floor to dry, this song came from my lips without my mind giving it the first thought. It is a great song for this day before Easter.

My Jesus, I Love Thee

William R. Featherston, 1864

My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign.
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I love Thee because Thou has first loved me,
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree.
I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,
I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

Fun in the Country

Who knew a hay ring could be so much fun? These boy's were having a blast. I am so thankful for our little piece of country and the fun that my kids have here. (click on the top picture to enlarge it and look at Cowboy's face)

The Need of the Hour

What does our country need?
Not armies standing
With sabers gleaming ready for the fight;
Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,
To bound the waters with an iron might;
Not haughty men with glutted purses trying
To purchase souls, and keep the power of place;
Not jeweled dolls with one another vying
For palms of beauty, elegance, and grace.
But we want women, strong of soul, yet lowly
With that rare meekness, born of gentleness;
Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,
The women whom all little children bless;
Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,
With finest scorn for all things low and mean;
Women who hold the names of wife and mother
Far nobler than the title of a queen.
Oh! These are they who mould the men of story,
These mothers, oft time shorn of grace and youth,
Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory
Than making some young soul the home of truth;
Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing
The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,
And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing
And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in.
Women who do not hold the gift of beauty
As some rare treasure to be bought and sold,
But guard it as a precious aid to duty-
The outer framing of the inner gold;
Women who, low above their cradles bending,
Let flattery's voice go by, and give no heed,
While their pure prayers like incense are ascending
These are our country's pride, our country's need.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sweet Slumber

Today has been a busy day. I have had more energy today than I have since I learned of the little one on the way. Jenna stayed right with me all day, sweeping, vacuuming whatever I was doing she was doing too. So I sat down to rest and check the blogs and I heard her say " I have to check my email." So I opened her little laptop and she went to the couch. I heard a couple of clicks, then nothing. I just had to share this picture.