Thoughtful Moments OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE (Supplied by the Whakatane Ministers' Association).

Bay of Plenty Beacon, 2 May 1941, Page 6

Thoughtful Moments OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE (Supplied by the Whakatane Ministers' Association).

HOME- AND MOTHER A truce to the jarring notes of life, The cries of pain and. passion, Over this lull in the eager strife, Love offers, Eden fashion. In the wee brown house were lessons taught Of strong and stimh' living, And ever where honest hands have Avrought, God hears the true thanksgiving. Margaret Sangster. m m ■ • If home at its best is' "a garage with a dormitoiy attached," with no room in it for .the Bible, and no time in it for pra3 ? er, . . . or if it is the place where we all know the worst about each 'other, so that nobody" need pretend, I would not waste time defending or praising such an institution. But if we may speak of Christian homes, then "Home is the place where caeli loves the other, and all; love God, "'and where our treasure is, there will our heart be also. Of all possible professions that of the Christian home-maker (and the Minister) deals most directlj" with the realities, (Agatha Micklam in British Weekly) at • m W Home is among the ho.liest of words. A true home is one, of the most sacred of places. It is a sanctuar3 r into Avhich men flee from the world's perils and alarms. It is a resting place whither at close of da 3% the Aveary retire to gather new strength for the battles and toils gf to-morroAV. (J. R. Miller, D.D.) M ■ « A rather battered copA* of "The Life of Dr, Stuart" (the Avell known first, minister of Knox Church, Dunedin), recentl3' came into my pos-. session. It is a most interesling hook, but the part that touched, me most was the storj' of tho early home-life of that great man— "Earl 3* in February, in the year 1819, a sturdy Perthshire Highland-, cr, mounted on one of the hardy ponies of the country, might have been seesn Avcr.di n,g his Avay from 'i cottage situate in the valley of the Tay . . . He carried tenderly, sloaved aA\a3 r in the neck of his plaid, a little child, the elder of tAvin that had been born 011 the fifth da3 r of that month, leaA-ing their mother in such a state of physical prostration as quite, unfitted her for maternal duties. A suitable nurse for the younger twin had* been found,, but the elder one Avas sent under his father's care to Killin, to be put into the hands of a fostermother Avho had been provided for him there. Here he remained for four months ... It became apparent that an arrest had been made on the natural healthful development of the child. In the following 3 T ear, Avhen his mother's health was fairl}' re-estab-lished, she carried him daily for a

bath at the junction oJ' the rivers Lyon and Tay—a distance of just a mile from her home. The ablution oven., and a drink of new milk administered, the child was wrapped in a soft blanket, fed again on reaching home, and then laid down for a three-hour's sleep. A manifest improvement set steadily in. The child, who was thus restored to robust liealLh by the unwearied devotion of a loving mother—under the blessing of God on the means employed—av£is Donald MeNaughton Stuart, who said i.n this connection: 'My mother's faith in the healing virtue of the water where two rivers meet and mingle,, in a draught of new milk, and in subsequent sleep, was always; strong and wellgrounded, and I inherited her faith in a course so kindly and sympathetically carriedi out.' . . . Donald Stuart inherited from his mother a love of adventure and song, and a readiness) to help those who had fallen,, irrespective of the character which they love." m m m m To the mother of every true man the time must' come when she is left behind. Her rule, that hitherto has been his guide; must give way to a higher wisdom. She will not think of self if her child but fulfil his appointed task in life. She must not, dare not, will not, wish him to go her pace when spheres of service call,, or realms of thought and learning beckon him. further 011 that she can travel. (Alice, Isabel Cook in "The Hand Maid of the Lord,") m * * » You can never lose your mother; .-he ma 3 T die, and her Ixhla- maA r be borne away out., of your sight, and laid awa\ r .in acre. You will see her face and hear her voice no more. No more will her hands scatter the good sieeds of truth upon life's garden. But you have' not lost her. Your mind and heart are full of the seeds; which fell from her hand, along the. years. These you never can Ijose. No hand of death can root them out of >'oiir life. They have grown into the very tissues of 30111* character. They re-appear in j'our habits, your dispositions, your feelings and opiiv ions, your modes of thought, A r ou;' very phrases and forms of speech. You never lose your mother: the threads of her life are woven inextricably into your life. J. R. Mailer, D.D, • • • » The Shrine at Mother's Knee. I have worshipped in churches and chapels; I've prayed in the busy street; I have sought 1113' God and found Him Where the waves of His ocean beat; 1 have knelt in the silent forest In the shade of some ancient tree. But the dearest of all my altars Was. raised on my mother's knee. ' (White Ribbon)