Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Over the Bent World.

The children ate their biscuits and drank their milk and the stormcock sang, and Mary thought, "I will remember about this rainbow place. When my own particular experience seems dark and hard I'll remember that it's really a shining thing holding like a flower to the branches of the tree, and that I travel in it, like Cinderella in her coach, to the ending of the days. And up above me in the tree the Seraph sings, and sometimes he sings peace for us and sometimes courage, praise, truth, love, death, but he is always the same Seraph. Who is he? On Mount Alverno St. Francis saw a great crucified Seraph above him, filling the heavens. I'll remember.                                                                                                  The Rosemary Tree, Elizabeth Goudge 



  1. What a beautiful photo. What beautiful words representing the unspeakable.

  2. ...and ye beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low, who toil upon the climbing way with painful steps and slow . . . o rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing...