Category: Carmichael, Amy

Before His hands were bound

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

A profound meditation from Amy Carmichael:

The last thing He did before His hands were bound.

And one of them smote the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear. And Jesus answered and said, Suffer you thus far. And He touched his ear and healed him. (Luke 22. 50, 51)

Then the band and the captain and the officers of the Jews took Jesus and bound Him. (John 18.12)

The last thing the Lord Jesus did before His hands were bound, was to heal.

Have you asked yourself, If I knew this was the last thing I should do, what would I do?  I have never found the answer to that question. There are so very, very many things that would want to do for those whom we love, that I do not think we are likely to be able to find the chief one of all these. So the best thing is just to go on simply, doing each thing as it comes as well as we can.

Our Lord Jesus spent much time in healing sick people, and in the natural course of events it happened that the last thing He did with His kind hands was to heal a bad cut. (I wonder how they could have the heart to bind His hands after that.)

In this as in everything, He left us an example that we should follow in His steps.  Do the thing that this next minute, this next hour, brings you, faithfully and lovingly and patiently; and then the last thing you do, before power to do is taken from you (if that should be), will be only the continuation of all that went before.

He knows how to love best

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

(Note: this is a respost.  But you can’t get enough of a good thing.  Have a blessed Sunday!)

Amy Carmichael’s note on this poem of hers: “Ps 109.21.  A prayer that may be unfathomable comfort to the ill and tired: ‘Do Thou for them, for him, for her, O God the Lord.’  When one cannot pray minutely or powerfully, this prayer suffices.  We need not tell Love what to do; Love knows.”  God knows better than we what is best for those we love.  Here Amy is simply encouraging us to trust Him who knows how to love best.

Do Thou For Me

Do Thou for me, O God the Lord,
Do Thou for me.
I need not toil to find the word
That carefully
Unfolds my prayer and offers it,
My God, to Thee.

It is enough that Thou wilt do,
And wilt not tire,
Wilt lead by cloud, all the night through
By light of fire,
Till Thou has perfected in me
Thy heart’s desire.

For my beloved I will not fear,
Love knows to do
For him, for her, from year to year,
As hitherto.
Whom my heart cherishes are dear
To Thy heart too.

O blessèd be the love that bears
The burden now,
The love that frames our very prayers,
Well knowing how
To coin our gold.  O God the Lord,
Do Thou, Do Thou.

My heart is singing

Sr. Dorcee, beloved3 Comments

A Sunday-poem from Amy Carmichael:

Too High for Me

I have no word,
But neither hath the bird,
And it is heard;
My heart is singing, singing all day long,
In quiet joy to Thee who art my Song.

For as Thy majesty,
So is Thy mercy,
So is Thy mercy,
My Lord and my God.

How intimate
Thy ways with those who wait
About Thy gate:
But who could show the fashion of such ways
In human words, and hymn them to Thy praise?

Too high for me,
Far shining mystery,
Too high to see;
But not too high to know, though out of reach
Of words to sing its gladness into speech.

Dust and Flame

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

A Sunday-poem by Amy Carmichael:

Dust and Flame

But I have seen a fiery flame
Take to his pure and burning heart
Mere dust of earth, to it impart
His virtue, till that dust became
Transparent loveliness of flame.

O Fire of God, Thou fervent Flame,
Thy dust of earth in Thee would fall,
And so be lost beyond recall,
Transformed by Thee, its very name
Forgotten in Thine own, O Flame.

Have a blessed Sunday.  May you come to know how much your own life has truly been transformed into His.

Love found me needing Him

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

Today’s poem comes from Amy Carmichael:

Love, travelling in the greatness of His strength,
   Found me alone,
Footsore and tired by the journey's length,
   Though I had known
All the long way many a kindly air,
And flowers had blossomed for me everywhere.

And yet Love found me needing Him.  He stayed;
   Love stayed by me.
"Let not your heart be troubled or dismayed,
   My child," said He.
Slipped from me then, all troubles, all alarms,
For Love had gathered me into His arms.

“Do Thou For Me”

Sr. Dorcee, beloved2 Comments

Amy Carmichael’s note on this poem of hers: “Ps 109.21.  A prayer that may be unfathomable comfort to the ill and tired: ‘Do Thou for them, for him, for her, O God the Lord.’  When one cannot pray minutely or powerfully, this prayer suffices.  We need not tell Love what to do; Love knows.”  God knows better than we what is best for those we love.  Here Amy is simply encouraging us to trust Him who knows how to love best.

Do Thou For Me

Do Thou for me, O God the Lord,
Do Thou for me.
I need not toil to find the word
That carefully
Unfolds my prayer and offers it,
My God, to Thee.

It is enough that Thou wilt do,
And wilt not tire,
Wilt lead by cloud, all the night through
By light of fire,
Till Thou has perfected in me
Thy heart’s desire.

For my beloved I will not fear,
Love knows to do
For him, for her, from year to year,
As hitherto.
Whom my heart cherishes are dear
To Thy heart too.

O blessèd be the love that bears
The burden now,
The love that frames our very prayers,
Well knowing how
To coin our gold.  O God the Lord,
Do Thou, Do Thou.

“God make us all His Jonathans.”

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

I thought, over the next few days, I would share some meditations by Amy Carmichael.  Today’s focusses on those times when we can feel “hunted” and alone–or when a friend feels hunted and alone and how we can strengthen their hands.

1 Sam 23.16 And Jonathan, Saul’s son, arose, and went to David into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God.

God make us all His Jonathans.  There is a great hunter abroad in the world.  Like Saul who sought David every day, he seeks souls every day, never a day’s respite, always the hunt is on.  Although the words stand forever, “but God did not give him into his hands” [v. 14], yet sometimes souls tire of being hunted, and like David they are in a wilderness in a wood.  Then is Jonathan’s chance.  But notice what he does, he does not so comfort David that he becomes necessary to him.  “He strengthened his hand in God.”  He leaves his friend strong in God, resting in God, safe in God.  he detaches his dear David from himself and he attaches him to his “Very Present Help” [see Psalm 46.1].  Then Jonathan went to his house, and David abode in the wood–with God.

May God help us each to be Jonathans for each of the people in our lives.

If It Were Not So.

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

       If It Were Not So

I thought I heard my Savior say to me,
My love will never weary, child, of thee.
Then in me, whispering doubtfully and low,
     How can that be?
     He answered me,
But if it were not so
I would have told thee.

I thought I heard my Savior say to me,
My strength encamps on weakness–so on thee.
And when a wind of fear did through me blow,
     How can that be?
     He answered me,
But if it were not so
I would have told thee.

     O most fine Gold
     That naught in me can dim,
     Eternal Love
     that hath her home in Him
     Whom seeing not I love,
     I worship Thee.

                        ~Amy Carmichael

Will not the end explain

“Will not the end explain the crossed endeavor?” (Amy Carmichael)

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Sr. Dorcee, beloved2 Comments

Will not the end explain
The crossed endeavor, earnest purpose foiled,
The strange bewilderment of good work spoiled,
The clinging weariness, the inward strain,
Will not the end explain?

Meanwhile He comforteth
Them that are losing patience. ‘Tis His way:
But none can write the words they hear Him say
For men to read, only they know He saith
Sweet words and comforteth.

Not that He doth explain
The mystery that baffleth; but a sense
Husheth the quiet heart, that far, far hence
Lieth a field set thick with golden grain,
Wetted in seedling days by many a rain:
The end–it will explain.

                   ~Amy Carmichael