El Arte de la Conversacion

my Beloved

 

a r r i v i n g

Wilton Agnew Barrett: "A New England Church"

THE WHITE church on the hill

     Looks over the little bay --

A beautiful thing on the hill

     When the mist is gray;

When the hills look old, and the air turns cold

     With the dying day!

The white church on the hill --

     A Greek in a Puritan town --

Was built on the brow of the hill

     For John Wesley's God's renown,

And a conscience old set a steeple cold

     On its Grecian crown.

In a storm of faith on the hill

     Hands raised it over the bay

When the night is clear on the hill,

     It stands up strong and gray;

But its door is old, and the tower points cold

     To the Milky Way.

The white church on the hill

     Looks lonely over the town

Dim to them under the hill

     Is its God's renown,

And its Bible old, and its creed grown cold  

     And the letters brown.

Travellers With A Purpose

 

El Cielo Canta Alegria

 

. .

 

The Bread of Life

 

Jesus said: "A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the supper he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, 'Come for everything is now ready.' But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, 'I have just bought a field and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.' Another said, 'I have just bought five joke of oxen and I'm on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.' Still another said, 'I just got married so I can't come.'  The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, 'Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in here the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.' The servant said, 'Sir, what you ordered has been done, there is still room.'