When a man’s heart is right with God the mysterious utterances of the Bible are spirit and life to him. Spiritual truth is discernible only to a pure heart, not to a keen intellect. It is not a question of profundity of intellect, but of purity of heart.
— Oswald Chambers
I would like these. A lot.

I would like these. A lot.

Reblogged from That Kind Of Woman
Reblogged from THE RED HOUSE
My friend made one beautiful bride.

My friend made one beautiful bride.

PEOPLE!

PEOPLE!

Reblogged from FANNING SISTERS
I reblog this every time I see it. 

I reblog this every time I see it. 

Reblogged from Denouement.

One thing I of the Lord desire,
For all my path hath miry been:
Be it by water or by fire,
Oh, make me clean, oh, make me clean!

So wash me, Thou, without, within,
Or purge with fire, if that must be;
No matter how, if only sin
Die out in me, die out in me.

If clearer vision Thou impart,
Grateful and glad my soul shall be,
But yet to have a purer heart
Is more to me, is more to me

Yea, only as this heart is clean
May larger vision yet be mine,
For mirrored in the depths are seen
The things divine, the things divine.

— One Thing I of the Lord Desire
New hair tomorrow. 

New hair tomorrow. 

Reblogged from Thoughts Acquired
Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince 

(via vaiya)

If we give way to self-pity and indulge in the luxury of misery, we remove God’s riches from our lives and hinder others from entering into His provision. No sin is worse than the sin of self-pity, because it removes God from the throne of our lives, replacing Him with our own self-interests. It causes us to open our mouths only to complain, and we simply become spiritual sponges— always absorbing, never giving, and never being satisfied. And there is nothing lovely or generous about our lives.
— Oswald Chambers

once again, carol anne…

Reblogged from {vacationinparadise}
redhousecanada:

Forest idyll.

carol anne

redhousecanada:

Forest idyll.

carol anne

Reblogged from THE RED HOUSE

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

The Rainy Day

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow