Dust unto Dust

The men of the East may spell the stars,
And times and triumphs mark,
But the men signed of the cross of Christ
Go gaily in the dark.

The men of the East may search the scrolls
For sure fates and fame,
But the men that drink the blood of God
Go singing to their shame.

-- G. K. Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse

O Modesty, Where is Thy Blush?

O Modesty, where is thy blush? we may ask,
O Nakedness, where is thy shame?
Fast slipping away from the people of God
Till some are mere Christians in name.

O Modesty, thou art a virtue quite rare,
A most treasured gem of each saint.
But where are the women aglow with God's love,
With courage to be labeled quaint?

The world treats unkindly who will not conform
To rules that Fashion declares.
For any who dare to step out from the crowd
Will notice the whispers and stares.


Yes, Fashion is cruel, she has her designs,
For she is the foe of the Lord.
She violates principles God has laid down
In counsel quite clear in His Word.

The daughter of Fashion must pamper her pride,
For meekness would make her too plain.
So vanity leads to all manner of show,
And Modesty's held in disdain.

As Modesty flees, and the goddess now reigns,
Discernment and conscience both sleep.
The church and the world now appear as if one--
How God's holy angels must weep!

O Modesty, waken the people of God
And let us recapture thy grace!
Adorn us with purity, meekness and love--
Prepare us to look on His face!


Moving Toward Modesty

Joy in the Little Things

Barter
by Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children’s faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like the curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit’s still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.