The Home Council

Jesus Publicly Enters Jerusalem For The Last Time

On the following day great numbers of people who had come to the Festival, hearing that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, took palm-branches, and went out to meet him, shouting as they went:

“‘God save Him!
Blessed is The One Coming in the name of the Lord’—
The King of Israel!”

Having found a young ass, Jesus seated himself on it, in accordance with the passage of Scripture—

“Fear not, Daughter of Zion; Behold, thy King is coming to thee, Sitting on the foal of an ass.”

His disciples did not understand all this at first; but, when Jesus had been exalted, they then remembered that these things had been said of him in Scripture, and that they had done these things for him. Meanwhile the people who were with him, when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead, were telling what they had seen. This, indeed, was why the crowd met him—because people had heard that he had given this sign of his mission. So the Pharisees said to one another:

“You see that you are gaining nothing! Why, all the world has run after him!”

—John.

The thing that makes the true home hallowed above all other places is that therein all understand and all love.

I Am Resolved

To keep my health!
To do my work!
To live!
To see to it I grow and gain and give!
Never to look behind me for an hour!
To wait in weakness, and to walk in power;
But always fronting onward to the light,
Always and always facing towards the right.
Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray-
On, with what strength I have!
Back to the way!

—Charlotte P. Gilman.

The Glory Of Friendship

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead, was living. There a supper was given in his honor, at which Martha waited, while Lazarus was one of those present at the table. So Mary took a pound of choice spikenard perfume of great value, and anointed the feet of Jesus with it, and then wiped them with her hair. The whole house was filled with the scent of the perfume. One of the disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was about to betray Jesus, asked:

“Why was not this perfume sold for thirty pounds, and the money given to poor people?”

He said this, not because he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and, being in charge of the purse, used to take what was put in it.

“Let her alone,” said Jesus, “that she may keep it till the day when my body is being prepared for burial. The poor you always have with you, but you will not always have me.”

Now great numbers of the Jews found out that Jesus was at Bethany; and they came there, not solely on his account, but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. The Chief Priests, however, plotted to put Lazarus, as well as Jesus, to death, because it was owing to him that many of the Jews had left them, and were becoming believers in Jesus.

—John.

Charity

There is no true alms which the hand can hold;
He gives nothing but worthless gold
Who gives from a sense of duty;
But he who gives but a slender mite,
And gives to that which is out of sight, That thread of all -sustaining Beauty
Which runs through all and doth all unite,—
The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms,
The heart outstretches its eager palms,
For a god goes with it and makes it store
To the soul that was starving in darkness before.

—James Russell Lowell.

Man’s Place In The Universe

For Thou hast made man little lower than God, and Crownest him with glory and honor.

—Psalms.

Spiritual Freedom

The human soul is greater, more sacred than the State, and must never be sacrificed to it. The distinction of nations is to pass away. But the individual mind survives, and the obscurest subject, if true to God, will rise to power never wielded by earthly potentates.

A human being is a member of the community, not as a limb is a member of the body, or as a wheel is a part of a machine, intended only to contribute to some general joint result. He was created not to be merged- in the whole, as a drop in the ocean, or as a particle of sand on the seashore, and to aid only in composing a mass. He is an ultimate being, made for bis own perfection as his highest end; made to maintain an individual existence, and to serve others as far as consists with his own virtue and progress. Hitherto governments have tended greatly to obscure this importance of the individual, to depress him in his own eyes, to give him the idea of an outward interest more important than the invisible soul, and of an outward authority more sacred than the voice of God in his own secret conscience.

Rulers have called the private man the property of the State, meaning generally by the State themselves, and thus the many have been sacrificed to the few, and have even believed that this was their highest destination. Nothing seems to me so needful as to give to the individual mind the consciousness, which governments have done so much to suppress, of its own separate worth.

Let the individual feel that through his immortality he may concentrate in his own being a greater good than that of nations. Let him feel that he is placed in the community, not to part with his individuality or to become a tool, but that he should find a sphere for his various powers, and a preparation for immortal glory. To me the progress of society consists in nothing more than in bringing out the individual, of giving him a consciousness of his own being, and in quickening him to strengthen and elevate bis own mind.

—William E. Channing.

Alternate Reading: John 15:1-16.

Honest And Faithful Labor

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

—Henry W. Longfellow.

Alternate Reading: John 4:1-38.

Why Should The Spirit Of Mortal Be Proud?

(This is said to be Lincoln’s favorite poem.)

O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.

The child that a mother attended and loved,
The mother that infant’s affection who proved,
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest.

The maid on whoee cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure,—her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those that beloved her and praised
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed,
That wither away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes, like, those we behold,
To repeat every tale that hath often been told.

For we are the things our fathers have been;
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen,—
We drink the same stream, we feel the same sun,
And run the same course that our fathers have run.

They died,—ay! they died! and we things that are now,
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
Who make in their dwellings a transient abode,
Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road.

‘Tis the wink of an eye, ’tis the draught of a breath,
From the bosom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,—
O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

—William Knox.

Alternate Reading: John 14:15-31.

I Shall Not Pass This Way Again

Then let me pluck the flowers that blow,
And let me listen as I go
To music rare
That fills the air;
And let hereafter
Songs and laughter
Fill every pause along the way;
And to my spirit let me say:

“O soul, be happy; soon ’tis trod,
The path made thus for thee by God.
Be happy, thou, and bless His name
By whom such marvelous beauty came”
And let no chance by me be lost
To kindness show at any cost.
I shall not pass this way again;
Then let me now relieve some pain.
Remove some barrier from the road,
Or brighten some one’s heavy load;
A helping hand to this one lend,
Then turn some other to befriend.

O God, forgive
That now I live
As if I might, sometime, return
To bless the weary ones that yearn
For help and comfort every day,—
For there be such along the way.
O God, forgive that I have seen
The beauty only, have not been
Awake to sorrow such as this;
That I have drunk the cup of bliss
Remembering not that those there be
Who drink the dregs of misery.

I love the beauty of the scene,
Would roam again o’er fields so green;
But since I may not, let me spend
My strength for others to the end,—
For those who tread on rock and stone,
And bear their burdens all alone,
Who loiter not in leafy bowers,
Nor hear the birds nor pluck the flowers.
A larger kindness give to me,
A deeper love and sympathy;
Then, O, one day
May someone say—
Remembering a lessened pain—
“Would she could pass this way again.”

—Eva Rose York.

Alternate Reading: Jude 1: 19-25.

Let Me Move Slowly Through The Street

Let me move slowly through the street,
Filled with an ever-shifting train,
Amid the sound of steps that beat
The murmuring walks like autumn rain.

How fast the flitting figures come!
The mild, the fierce, the stony face;
Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some
Where secret tears have left their trace.

They pass—to toil, to strife, to rest;
To halls in which the feast is spread;
To chambers where the funeral guest
In silence sits beside the dead.

And some to happy homes repair,
Where children, pressing cheek to cheek,
With mute caresses shall declare
The tenderness they cannot speak.

Who of this crowd to-night shall tread
The dance till daylight gleam again?
Who sorrow o’er the untimely dead?
Who writhe in throes of mortal pain?

Some, famine-struck, shall think how long
The cold dark hours, how slow the light!
And some, who flaunt amid the throng,
Shall hide in dens of shame to-night.

Each, where his tasks or pleasures call,
They pass, and heed each other not.
There is who heeds, who holds them all,
In His large love and boundless thought.

—William Cullen Bryant.

Self-Governed Lives

Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm

—Robert L. Stevenson.

Alternate Reading: Psalms 95:1-7.

The Parable Of The Pounds

Jesus went on to tell them a parable. He did so because he was near Jerusalem, and because they thought that the Kingdom of God was going to be proclaimed at once. He said:

“A nobleman once went to a distant country to receive his appointment to a kingdom and then return. He called ten of his servants and gave them ten pounds each, and told them to trade with them during his absence. But his subjects hated him and sent envoys after him to say, ‘We will not have this man as our King.’ On his return, after having been appointed King, he directed that the servants to whom be had given his money should be summoned, so that he might learn what, amount of trade they had done. The first came up, and said, ‘Sir, your ten pounds have made a hundred.’

“‘Well done, good servant!’ exclaimed the master, ‘As you have proved trustworthy in a very small matter, I appoint you governor over ten towns.’ When the second came, be said, ‘Your ten pounds, Sir, have produced fifty.’ So the master said to him, ‘And you I appoint over five towns.’ Another servant also came and said, ‘Sir, here are your ten pounds; I have kept them put away in a handkerchief. For I was afraid of you, because you are a stern man. You take what you have not planted, and reap what you have not sown.’ The master answered, ‘Out of your own mouth I judge you, you worthless servant. You knew that I am a stern man, that I take what I have not planted, and reap what I have not sown? Then why did not you put my money into a bank? And I, on my return, could have claimed it with interest. Take away from him the ten pounds,’ he said to those standing by, ‘and give them to the one who has the hundred.’

“‘But, Sir,’ they interposed, ‘he has a hundred pounds already!’

“‘I tell you,’ he answered,’ that, to him who has, more will be given, but, from him who has nothing, even what he has will be taken away. But as for my enemies, these men who would not have me as their King, bring them here and put them to death in my presence.'”

After saying this, Jesus went on in front, going up to Jerusalem.

—Luke.

Trust In God

I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea
Come drifting home with broken masts and sails;
I shall believe the Hand which never fails
From seeming evil worketh good for me;
And though I weep because those sails are battered,
Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered,
“I trust in Thee.”

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Little Girl And The Pussy Cat

Said the little girl to the pussy cat:
“It’s jolly to make you play.
How soft you purr when I stroke your fur,
And your claws are all tucked away! I love you ever so much for that,”
Said the little girl to the pussy cat.

“But, Oh, a terrible thing I’ve heard
That brought great grief to me:
They say that you caught a tiny bird
That lived in our apple tree!
You cannot be dear to me after that,”
Said the little girl to the pussy cat.

“Oh, little girl,” said the pussy cat,
“You are loving and kind, they say,
To bird and to beast; but did not you feast
On chicken this very day?
And aren’t there feathers upon your hat,
Oh, little girl?” said the pussy cat.

“But you will be you and I will be I,
As long as the world shall be.
If you will be good for you,
I’ll try to be good for me.
But let us be friends and agree to that,
Oh, little girl,” said the pussy cat.

—Anon.

Alternate Reading: John 13: 31-38.

Manners

Life expresses. Nature tells every secret once; but in man she tells it all the time, by form, attitude, gesture, mien, face, and parts of the face, and by the whole action of the machine. The visible carriage or action of the individual, as resulting from his organization and his will combined, we call manners. What are they but thought entering the hands and feet, controlling the movements of the body, the speech and behavior.

There is always a best way of doing everything, if it be to boil an egg. Manners are the happy ways of doing things; each, once a stroke of genius or love,—now repeated and hardened into usage. They form at last a rich varnish, with which the routine of life is washed, and its details adorned. If they are superficial, so are the dewdrops which give such a depth to the morning meadows.

The power of manners is incessant,—an element as unconcealable as fire. The nobility cannot in any country be disguised, and no more in a republic or a democracy than in a kingdom. No man can resist their influence. There are certain manners which are learned in good society, or better still, are the spontaneous expression of noble lives and which will open every door to the one possessing them, though without beauty, or wealth or genius. Give a boy address and accomplishments, and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes where he goes. He has not the trouble of earning or owning them; they solicit him to enter and possess.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson.

A true gentleman is the flower of a good home.

Alternate Reading: John 13:1-20.