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Post today 18/01/2021

#AceNewsDesk report ……Published: Jan.18: 2021:

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Hello Friends

Forgiveness is setting yourself free to move on


Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future

Compassion doesn’t mean you excuse the crime. It just means you’re no longer willing to be the prey

Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could be any different

Compassion is not something we do for other people. We do it for ourselves to get well and move on

Compassion is not just for other people, it’s for you too. Forgive yourself, move on, and try to do better next time

Forgiveness is not something we do for other people.

We do it for ourselves to get well and move on forgiveness is not just for other people, it’s for you too.

Forgive yourself, move on, and try to do better next time

Forgiveness allows you to focus on the future without combating the past

Compassion is nothing but recognizing the reality that what has happened has already happened and that there’s no point in allowing it to monopolize the rest of your life

There are few things in life that cannot be resolved with kindness.

Forgive the one that hurts you and you will find forgiveness back in some way or the other

Forgiveness is the key to letting go.

Forgiveness isn’t about releasing him or her, its about releasing you

Forgiveness is a gift you give to someone else; it’s an act of your own will

You must forgive those who hurt you, if you don’t forgive they have the power over you, forgiveness is for you and no one else

Forgiveness is something we need to both give and ask for in return

Forgiveness is the frugality of the heart, it saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits

When the power of love, will overcome the love of power; the world will know peace.

Character building begins in our infancy, and continues until death.

I get by with a little help from my friends.


~ Song II: Have No Thought for Tomorrow


Love is enough: have no thought for to-morrow If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain,

Ye who have paid for your bliss with great sorrow: For as it was once so it shall be again.

Ye shall cry out for death as ye stretch forth in vain

Feeble hands to the hands that would help but they may not,

Cry out to deaf ears that would hear if they could;

Till again shall the change come, and words your lips say not

Your hearts make all plain in the best wise they would

And the world ye thought waning is glorious and good:

And no morning now mocks you and no nightfall is weary,

The plains are not empty of song and the deed:

The sea strayeth not, nor the mountains are dreary;

The wind is not helpless for any man’s need,

Nor falleth the rain but for thistle and weed.

O surely this morning all sorrow is hidden,

All battle is hushed for this even at least;

And no one this noontide may hunger, unbidden

To the flowers and the singing and the joy of your feast

Where silent ye sit midst the world’s tale increased.

Lo, the lovers unloved that draws nigh for your blessing!

For your tale makes the dreaming whereby yet they live

The dreams of the day with their hopes of redressing,

The dreams of the night with the kisses they give,

The dreams of the dawn wherein death and hope strive.

Ah, what shall we say then, but that earth threatened often

Shall live on forever that such things may be,

That the dry seed shall quicken, the hard earth shall soften,

And the spring-bearing birds flutter north o’er the sea,

That earth’s garden may bloom round my love’s feet and me?


The Fig Tree: A Lesson in the Patience and Judgment of God


The Fig Tree: A Lesson in the Patience and Judgment of God

What does a parable about an unproductive fig tree have to do with how you’re going about your life? The answer is—quite a biHe desires

In Christ’s parable of the barren fig tree, the owner was going to have it cut down—a final solution for something unproductive.

The parable of the barren fig tree offers both good news and bad news. The good news is that God is merciful and willing to forgive. The bad news is that even God’s patient mercy has its limits. Neither you nor I want to be on the receiving end when God’s patience runs out. It’s better to repent while we have the opportunity!
Repentance is not a fashionable word today. Its basic meaning is to change. It means to stop doing something that’s not productive or taking you in a wrong direction.
Jesus Christ spoke one of His most interesting parables about a barren fig tree. Here’s what He said: “A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. Then he said to the keeper of his vineyard, ‘Look, for three years I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree and find none. Cut it down; why does it use up the ground?’ But he answered and said to him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and fertilize it. And if it bears fruit, well. But if not, after that you can cut it down'” (Luke 13:6-9).
Fruit trees require lot of care and proper handling to continue producing luscious fruit year in and year out. It’s rewarding to see a tree bending under the weight of apples, pears, oranges or grapefruit. To go into your backyard and pick your own fruit you watched develop and ripen is both instructive and rewarding.
It’s instructive in that we see how fruit develops on a tree. We see the bloom appear and then the first buds of the fruit begin to grow and develop through the months. Seeing the process teaches more than we learn by going to the market and buying the fruit off the stand. Fruit doesn’t just appear in the grocery store; it’s not grown on a delivery truck. It takes time and care to nurture and develop.
It’s rewarding to take part in the process by which fruit grows. Your efforts combine with the work of nature to bring fruit to harvest.
The harvest of ripened fruit is the reason the tree is taking up valuable real estate. Satisfaction is so important in this process that when there is no fruit you stand looking at the tree trying to understand why it has borne no fruit. I’ve stood looking at barren trees and asked myself the same questions. Before delving further into the parable, we need to look at what Christ was saying before He gave it.

A message about repentance

At the beginning of Luke 13 we see where Christ had been informed about some “Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices” (Luke 13:1). It was an atrocity committed by the Roman ruler of the province upon the Galileans. We’re not told whether there was any provocation. Was it done in retaliation for an attack on the Romans, or was it just done on the whim of the Roman governor as a display of Roman ruthlessness to keep the locals in fear? We don’t know. However, Christ used it to teach a profound lesson, and as He often did, He moved right into a parable to drive home the point.
In Luke 13:2 Jesus responded to the news: “Do you suppose that these Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish” (emphasis added throughout).
Time and chance happen to everyone, Solomon once wrote (Ecclesiastes 9:11). We don’t always control the events that can happen to us with the rush of events and everyday life.
Jesus was saying that these poor people were just like everyone else. They were human, with weaknesses and strengths like everyone else. They were going about their daily lives and were suddenly caught up in an event that happened to come their way.
In the next verses Jesus referred to another well-known recent event, the collapse of a building on unsuspecting bystanders: “Or those eighteen on whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse sinners than all other men who dwell in Jerusalem? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish” (Luke 13:4-5).
Two stories from everyday life. Two calls to repent, to change the direction of one’s life. In telling them that they could “likewise perish,” Jesus was warning that they could be like those who, unexpectedly caught up in circumstances beyond their control, had their lives snuffed out in an instant.
That’s sobering. We don’t like to think about it, and to be blunt, most of us don’t consider that life is really like this. But it is. There are no guarantees.
Every day we hear news reports of accidents, natural catastrophes and attacks that take innocent lives. People suffer loss of property, lands and rights because of actions taken by others with little thought about what’s right or wrong or just.
The world is often this way, and we need to understand the implications. Jesus was being blunt—realistically blunt—with His audience. Events happen in this world over which you have no control, and sometimes good and well-meaning people—people just like you and me—get hurt. His point was that we understand this and do what we can and should do, realizing that time and chance could unexpectedly strike at any time.

Change and produce

Repentance is not a fashionable word today. You might even need to go to a dictionary to look up the meaning. Its basic meaning is to change. It means to stop doing something that’s not productive or taking you in a wrong direction. It means to stop going in one direction of life, a direction that can be self-destructive, and to turn around and go another—in a way that’s productive and even godly.
Biblically, and as Christ meant it here, it means to stop breaking the law of God and begin to obey God’s law. Christ meant it in the same way He used it when first preaching the gospel of the Kingdom of God as quoted in Mark 1:15: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” It means that through this announcement a new order of life is at hand and we need to obtain a mind-set that fits. It means to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” (Matthew 3:8).
Which leads us back to the parable.
An unproductive fig tree in a vineyard is pretty much useless—unless you’re like Nathaniel and want to use it only for shade (John 1:48). And if it hasn’t produced fruit for three years in a row, a remedy needs to be applied. It isn’t that the tree is dead and incapable of producing. The tree hasn’t had the proper care and feeding and is just there, marking time. It’s like a lot of people—alive and breathing, but not really going anywhere.
How about you? Do you understand your life? Can you make sense out of this confusing, sometimes disorderly and uneven existence? Do you know the purpose for your life and what it can become? Forget for a moment the bigger question of “the meaning of life” and just focus on you. What is the purpose for you drawing breathg food and taking up space on this planet?
If you don’t know, or if your answer is pretty weak and unsure, then just consider for a brief moment that this unproductive foftree could be a symbol of your life. You are alive. You have a “place.” But are you producing fruit? Are you living as part of a bigger, overarching purpose?
You can find the answers to these questions. And they can make a positive difference in your life. And God wants you to find the answer!

Extending time to turn things around

The vineyard owner’s solution to this unproductive fig tree was blunt: “Cut it down; why does it use up the ground?” (Luke 13:7).
This is a hard solution, and a final one. It shows us a truth about God. God is full of mercy and compassion. He is patient and loving. But God is also a God of judgment, and Christ is warning here that a time of final judgment will come on a life—especially a life that has had opportunity, warning and the benefit of the doubt. When linked to the earlier statement unless you repent,” we learn that there’s a way to avoid being “cut down” and considered of no value.
Don’t be discouraged! The remainder of the parable shows us the way out!
The keeper of the vineyard answers the own: “Sir, let it alone this year also, the until I dig around it and fertilize it. And if it bears fruit, well. But if not, after that you can cut it down” (Luke 13:8-9).
The keeper asks for one more year in which to work with the tree—to turn it around and make it useful and productive. There are hope and every expectation that the wise and capable attention of the keeper will produce a new burst of productivity so that the next harvest will see fruit on the tree. That is the key thought here.
We can see that God is in a dual role here as both keeper and owner of the vineyard. This shows us that God both owns us and gives us room regrow spiritually, but He also expects us to produce “fruit”—the product of a life of good works of righteousness.
Galatians 5:22-23 defines the kind of fruit God wants to see produced in our lives: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.” The apostle Paul explains here that these qualities are the fruit of God’s Spirit. They are what can be produced by God through our lives when we repent and believe the gospel, surrender ourselves to Him and allow our lives to be led by His Holy Spirit.
This parable of a barren fig tree is meant to teach us a vital truth. R, repentance is necessary, and it is possible with God’s help. He is patient and grants us time to change and bear fruit. Yet at the same time, none of us knows how much time we have left—so we’d better get moving!
God in His judgment is always just, and only He understands the depth of your life. That He is aware and inspecting His “vineyard” to know the condition of each of His trees is a comfort. His desire is that none perish (2 Peter 3:9) but that all produce abundant fruit and inherit eternal life!


Hello friends

Story Teller

Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey


Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn!

Across the long grass of the marshy plain

Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain,

Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn

Above the lush blades of the springing corn,

Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain

To store up tales of spring for summer’s pain – Vain day, why wert thou from the dark night born?

O many-voiced strange morn, why must thou break

With vain desire the softness of my dream

Where she and I alone on earth did seem?

How hadst thou heart from me that land to take

Wherein she wandered softly for my sake

And I and she no harm of love might deem?

Story Teller



Live your truth.

Express your love.

Share your passion.

Take action towards your dreams.

Walk your talk.

Dance and sing to your music.

Embrace your blessings.

Make today worth remembering.

A good authority nudges you to become better for your own sake.

You don’t fail when you’ve lost, you’ve failed when you relinquish. So get out there and never give up.

When you give someone regard, it’ll help them feel proud about themselves.

So, never be afraid to be encouraging to others, when they need to feel stimulated in life.

You have only got three choices in life: give up, give in, or give it all you’ve given.

Go for it, while you can.

I know you have it in you.

And I can’t promise you’ll get everything you expect, but I can promise nothing will change if you don’t try.

You are capable of remarkable things.

Your destiny is too great, your assignment too crucial, your time too valuable. Do not let fear intimidate you.

Wake up in the morning and make it happen

A bigger and better than the day before. Life is all about staying motivated, disciplined, happy and encouraged.

Value yourself, your voice, your body, your opinions, your dreams, your pride, your ego.

You have a RIGHT to take up space.

When life challenges you. Don’t give up hold your head up high and have faith that almighty is always with you and everything will work out in the end.

Walk away from things that aren’t encouraging you to excel.

Positive and kind words can empower, encourage, motivate and help move someone towards their objectives.

Always choose words that can heal not destroy.

Winners are there within you and me, we just need to explore those capabilities.

Sets of a few questions cannot determine the ability and talents of humans.

If you have given your best remember you have already passed.

Whenever you find yourself doubting how far you can go, just remember how far you have come.

Remember everything you have faced, all the battles you have won, and all the fears you have overcome.

Your journey won’t be straightforward

Hurdles stand in your way

And that’s meant to be a lesson not a setback

A lesson learnt occurs –

Walk on through and never looked back

Failure comes to those who have egos

Be humble

Be gracious

Share your thoughts, share your wisdom and mostly your smile


Love’s Gleaning Tide –


Draw not away from thy hands, my love,

With wind alone, the branches move,

And though the leaves are scant above

The Autumn shall not shame us.

Say; Let the world wax cold and drear,

What is the worst of all the year But life, and what can hurt us, dear,

Or death, and who shall blame us?

Ah, when the summer comes again

How shall we say, we sowed in vain?

The root was joy, the stem was pain

The ear a nameless blending.

The root is dead and gone, my love,

The stem’s a rod our truth to prove;

The ear is stored for naught to move

Till heaven and earth have ended. ~

Story Teller

Love is enough –


LOVE is enough: though the World be a-waning,

And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,

Though the sky is too dark for dim eyes to discover

The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,

Though the hills are held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,

And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over,

Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;

The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter

These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover. ~


Atalanta’s Race – William Morris


Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went, Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day; But since his horn-tipped bow but seldom bent, Now at the noontide nought had happed to slay, Within a vale he called his hounds away, Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling About the cliffs and through the beech-trees ring. But when they ended, still awhile he stood, And but the sweet familiar thrush could hear, And all the day-long noises of the wood, And o’er the dry leaves of the vanished year His hounds’ feet pattering as they drew anear, And heavy breathing from their heads low hung, To see the mighty corner bow unstrung. Then smiling did he turn to leave the place, But with his first step some new fleeting thought A shadow cast across his sun-burnt face; I think the golden net that April brought From some warm world his wavering soul had caught; For, sunk in vague sweet longing, did he go Betwixt the trees with doubtful steps and slow. Yet howsoever slow he went, at last The trees grew sparser, and the wood was done; Whereon one farewell backward look he cast, Then, turning round to see what place was won, With shaded eyes looked underneath the sun, And o’er green meads and new-turned furrows brown Beheld the gleaming of King Schœneus’ town. So thitherward he turned, and on each side The folk were busy on the teeming land, And man and maid from the brown furrows cried, Or midst the newly blossomed vines did stand, And as the rustic weapon pressed the hand Thought of the nodding of the well-filled ear, Or how the knife the heavy bunch should shear. Merry it was: about him sung the birds, The spring flowers bloomed along the firm dry road, The sleek-skinned mothers of the sharp-horned herds Now for the barefoot milking-maidens lowed; While from the freshness of his blue abode, Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget, The broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet. Through such fair things unto the gates he came, And found them open, as though peace were there; Wherethrough, unquestioned of his race or name, He entered, and along the streets ‘gan fare, Which at the first of folk were well-nigh bare; But pressing on, and going more hastily, Men hurrying too he ‘gan at last to see. Following the last of these he still pressed on, Until an open space he came unto, Where wreaths of fame had oft been lost and won, For feats of strength folks there were wont to do. And now our hunter looked for something new, Because the whole wide space was bare, and stilled The high seats were, with eager people filled. There with the others to a seat he gat, Whence he beheld a broidered canopy, ‘Neath which in fair array King Schœneus sat Upon his throne with councillors thereby; And underneath his well-wrought seat and high, He saw a golden image of the sun, A silver image of the Fleet-foot One. A brazen altar stood beneath their feet Whereon a thin flame flicker’d in the wind; Nigh this a herald clad in raiment meet Made ready even now his horn to wind, By whom a huge man held a sword, entwin’d With yellow flowers; these stood a little space From off the altar, nigh the starting place. And there two runners did the sign abide, Foot set to foot,–a young man slim and fair, Crisp-hair’d, well knit, with firm limbs often tried In places where no man his strength may spare: Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair. A golden circlet of renown he wore, And in his hand an olive garland bore. But on this day with whom shall he contend? A maid stood by him like Diana clad When in the woods she lists her bow to bend, Too fair for one to look on and be glad, Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had, If he must still behold her from afar; Too fair to let the world live free from war. She seem’d all earthly matters to forget; Of all tormenting lines her face was clear; Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set Calm and unmov’d as though no soul were near. But her foe trembled as a man in fear, Nor from her loveliness one moment turn’d His anxious face with fierce desire that burn’d. Now through the hush there broke the trumpet’s clang Just as the setting sun made eventide. Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang, And swiftly were they running side by side; But silent did the thronging folk abide Until the turning-post was reach’d at last, And round about it still abreast they passed. But when the people saw how close they ran, When half-way to the starting-point they were, A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near Unto the very end of all his fear; And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, And bliss unhop’d for o’er his heart ‘gan steal. But ‘midst the loud victorious shouts he heard Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard His flush’d and eager face he turn’d around, And even then he felt her past him bound Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair. There stood she breathing like a little child Amid some warlike clamour laid asleep, For no victorious joy her red lips smil’d, Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep; No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and deep, Though some divine thought soften’d all her face As once more rang the trumpet through the place. But her late foe stopp’d short amidst his course, One moment gaz’d upon her piteously. Then with a groan his lingering feet did force To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see; And, changed like one who knows his time must be But short and bitter, without any word He knelt before the bearer of the sword; Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade, Bar’d of its flowers, and through the crowded place Was silence now, and midst of it the maid Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace, And he to hers upturn’d his sad white face; Nor did his eyes behold another sight Ere on his soul there fell eternal light. So was the pageant ended, and all folk Talking of this and that familiar thing In little groups from that sad concourse broke, For now the shrill bats were upon the wing, And soon dark night would slay the evening, And in dark gardens sang the nightingale Her little-heeded, oft-repeated tale. And with the last of all the hunter went, Who, wondering at the strange sight he had seen, Prayed an old man to tell him what it meant, Both why the vanquished man so slain had been, And if the maiden were an earthly queen, Or rather what much more she seemed to be, No sharer in this world’s mortality. “Stranger,” said he, “I pray she soon may die Whose lovely youth has slain so many an one! King Schœneus’ daughter is she verily, Who when her eyes first looked upon the sun Was fain to end her life but new begun, For he had vowed to leave but men alone Sprung from his loins when he from earth was gone. “Therefore he bade one leave her in the wood, And let wild things deal with her as they might, But this being done, some cruel god thought good To save her beauty in the world’s despite; Folk say that her, so delicate and white As now she is, a rough root-grubbing bear Amidst her shapeless cubs at first did rear. “In course of time the woodfolk slew her nurse, And to their rude abode the youngling brought, And reared her up to be a kingdom’s curse; Who grown a woman, of no kingdom thought, But armed and swift, ‘mid beasts destruction wrought, Nor spared two shaggy centaur kings to slay To whom her body seemed an easy prey. “So to this city, led by fate, she came Whom known by signs, whereof I cannot tell, King Schœneus for his child at last did claim. Nor otherwhere since that day doth she dwell Sending too many a noble soul to hell– What! shine eyes glisten! what then, thinkest thou Her shining head unto the yoke to bow? “Listen, my son, and love some other maid For she the saffron gown will never wear, And on no flower-strewn couch shall she be laid, Nor shall her voice make glad a lover’s ear: Yet if of Death thou hast not any fear, Yea, rather, if thou lov’st her utterly, Thou still may’st woo her ere thou com’st to die, “Like him that on this day thou sawest lie dead; For fearing as I deem the sea-born one; The maid has vowed e’en such a man to wed As in the course her swift feet can outrun, But whoso fails herein, his days are done: He came the nighest that was slain to-day, Although with him I deem she did but play. “Behold, such mercy Atalanta gives To those that long to win her loveliness; Be wise! be sure that many a maid there lives Gentler than she, of beauty little less, Whose swimming eyes thy loving words shall bless, When in some garden, knee set close to knee, Thou sing’st the song that love may teach to thee.” So to the hunter spake that ancient man, And left him for his own home presently: But he turned round, and through the moonlight wan Reached the thick wood, and there ‘twixt tree and tree Distraught he passed the long night feverishly, ‘Twixt sleep and waking, and at dawn arose To wage hot war against his speechless foes. There to the hart’s flank seemed his shaft to grow, As panting down the broad green glades he flew, There by his horn the Dryads well might know His thrust against the bear’s heart had been true, And there Adonis’ bane his javelin slew, But still in vain through rough and smooth he went, For none the more his restlessness was spent. So wandering, he to Argive cities came, And in the lists with valiant men he stood, And by great deeds he won him praise and fame, And heaps of wealth for little-valued blood; But none of all these things, or life, seemed good Unto his heart, where still unsatisfied A ravenous longing warred with fear and pride. Therefore it happed when but a month had gone Since he had left King Schœneus’ city old, In hunting-gear again, again alone The forest-bordered meads did he behold, Where still mid thoughts of August’s quivering gold Folk hoed the wheat, and clipped the vine in trust Of faint October’s purple-foaming must. And once again he passed the peaceful gate, While to his beating heart his lips did lie, That owning not victorious love and fate, Said, half aloud, “And here too must I try, To win of alien men the mastery, And gather for my head fresh meed of fame And cast new glory on my father’s name.” In spite of that, how beat his heart, when first Folk said to him, “And art thou come to see That which still makes our city’s name accurst Among all mothers for its cruelty? Then know indeed that fate is good to thee Because to-morrow a new luckless one Against the white-foot maid is pledged to run.” So on the morrow with no curious eyes As once he did, that piteous sight he saw, Nor did that wonder in his heart arise As toward the goal the conquering maid ‘gan draw, Nor did he gaze upon her eyes with awe, Too full the pain of longing filled his heart For fear or wonder there to have a part. But O, how long the night was ere it went! How long it was before the dawn begun Showed to the wakening birds the sun’s intent That not in darkness should the world be done! And then, and then, how long before the sun Bade silently the toilers of the earth Get forth to fruitless cares or empty mirth! And long it seemed that in the market-place He stood and saw the chaffering folk go by, Ere from the ivory throne King Schœneus’ face Looked down upon the murmur royally, But then came trembling that the time was nigh When he midst pitying looks his love must claim, And jeering voices must salute his name. But as the throng he pierced to gain the throne, His alien face distraught and anxious told What hopeless errand he was bound upon, And, each to each, folk whispered to behold His godlike limbs; nay, and one woman old As he went by must pluck him by the sleeve And pray him yet that wretched love to leave. For sidling up she said, “Canst thou live twice, Fair son? canst thou have joyful youth again, That thus thou goest to the sacrifice Thyself the victim? nay then, all in vain Thy mother bore her longing and her pain, And one more maiden on the earth must dwell Hopeless of joy, nor fearing death and hell. “O, fool, thou knowest not the compact then That with the three-formed goddess she has made To keep her from the loving lips of men, And in no saffron gown to be arrayed, And therewithal with glory to be paid, And love of her the moonlit river sees White ‘gainst the shadow of the formless trees. “Come back, and I myself will pray for thee Unto the sea-born framer of delights, To give thee her who on the earth may be The fairest stirrer up to death and fights, To quench with hopeful days and joyous nights The flame that doth thy youthful heart consume: Come back, nor give thy beauty to the tomb.” How should he listen to her earnest speech? Words, such as he not once or twice had said Unto himself, whose meaning scarce could reach The firm abode of that sad hardihead– He turned about, and through the marketstead Swiftly he passed, until before the throne In the cleared space he stood at last alone. Then said the King, “Stranger, what dost thou here? Have any of my folk done ill to thee? Or art thou of the forest men in fear? Or art thou of the sad fraternity Who still will strive my daughter’s mates to be, Staking their lives to win an earthly bliss, The lonely maid, the friend of Artemis?” “O King,” he said, “thou sayest the word indeed; Nor will I quit the strife till I have won My sweet delight, or death to end my need. And know that I am called Milanion, Of King Amphidamas the well-loved son: So fear not that to thy old name, O King, Much loss or shame my victory will bring.” “Nay, Prince,” said Schœneus, “welcome to this land Thou wert indeed, if thou wert here to try Thy strength ‘gainst some one mighty of his hand; Nor would we grudge thee well-won mastery. But now, why wilt thou come to me to die, And at my door lay down thy luckless head, Swelling the band of the unhappy dead, “Whose curses even now my heart doth fear? Lo, I am old, and know what life can be, And what a bitter thing is death anear. O, Son! be wise, and harken unto me, And if no other can be dear to thee, At least as now, yet is the world full wide, And bliss in seeming hopeless hearts may hide: “But if thou losest life, then all is lost.” “Nay, King,” Milanion said, “thy words are vain. Doubt not that I have counted well the cost. But say, on what day wilt thou that I gain Fulfilled delight, or death to end my pain. Right glad were I if it could be to-day, And all my doubts at rest for ever lay.” “Nay,” said King Schœneus, “thus it shall not be, But rather shalt thou let a month go by, And weary with thy prayers for victory What god thou know’st the kindest and most nigh. So doing, still perchance thou shalt not die: And with my goodwill wouldst thou have the maid, For of the equal gods I grow afraid. “And until then, O Prince, be thou my guest, . And all these troublous things awhile forget.” “Nay,” said he, “couldst thou give my soul good rest, And on mine head a sleepy garland set, Then had I ‘scaped the meshes of the net, Nor should thou hear from me another word; But now, make sharp thy fearful heading-sword. “Yet will I do what son of man may do, And promise all the gods may most desire, That to myself I may at least be true; And on that day my heart and limbs so tire, With utmost strain and measureless desire, That, at the worst, I may but fall asleep When in the sunlight round that sword shall sweep. ” He went therewith, nor anywhere would bide, But unto Argos restlessly did wend; And there, as one who lays all hope aside, Because the leech has said his life must end, Silent farewell he bade to foe and friend, And took his way unto the restless sea, For there he deemed his rest and help might be. Upon the shore of Argolis there stands A temple to the goddess that he sought, That, turned unto the lion-bearing lands, Fenced from the east, of cold winds hath no thought, Though to no homestead there the sheaves are brought, No groaning press torments the close-clipped murk, Lonely the fane stands, far from all men’s work. Pass through a close, set thick with myrtle-trees, Through the brass doors that guard the holy place, And entering, hear the washing of the seas That twice a-day rise high above the base, And with the south-west urging them, embrace The marble feet of her that standeth there That shrink not, naked though they be and fair. Small is the fane through which the sea-wind sings About Queen Venus’ well-wrought image white, But hung around are many precious things, The gifts of those who, longing for delight, Have hung them there within the goddess’ sight, And in return have taken at her hands The living treasures of the Grecian lands. And thither now has come Milanion, And showed unto the priests’ wide open eyes Gifts fairer than all those that there have shone, Silk cloths, inwrought with Indian fantasies, And bowls inscribed with sayings of the wise Above the deeds of foolish living things; And mirrors fit to be the gifts of kings. And now before the Sea-born One he stands, By the sweet veiling smoke made dim and soft, And while the incense trickles from his hands, And while the odorous smoke-wreaths hang aloft, Thus doth he pray to her: “O Thou, who oft Hast holpen man and maid in their distress Despise me not for this my wretchedness! “O goddess, among us who dwelt below, Kings and great men, great for a little while, Have pity on the lowly heads that bow, Nor hate the hearts that love them without guile; Wilt thou be worse than these, and is thy smile A vain device of him who set thee here, An empty dream of some artificer? “O great one, some men love, and are ashamed; Some men are weary of the bonds of love; Yea, and by some men lightly art thou blamed, That from thy toils their lives they cannot move, And ‘mid the ranks of men their manhood prove. Alas! O goddess, if thou slayest me, What new immortal can I serve but thee? “Think then, will it bring honour to thy head If folk say, ‘Everything aside he cast And to all fame and honour was he dead, And to his one hope now is dead at last, Since all unholpen he is gone and past; Ah, the gods love not man, for certainly, He to his helper did not cease to cry.’ “Nay, but thou wilt help; they who died before Not single-hearted as I deem came here, Therefore unthanked they laid their gifts before Thy stainless feet, still shivering with their fear, Lest in their eyes their true thought might appear, Who sought to be the lords of that fair town, Dreaded of men and winners of renown. “O Queen, thou knowest I pray not for this: O set us down together in some place Where not a voice can break our heaven of bliss, Where nought but rocks and I can see her face, Softening beneath the marvel of thy grace, Where not a foot our vanished steps can track– The golden age, the golden age come back! “O fairest, hear me now who do thy will, Plead for thy rebel that she be not slain, But live and love and be thy servant still; Ah, give her joy and take away my pain, And thus two long-enduring servants gain. An easy thing this is to do for me, What need of my vain words to weary thee. “But none the less, this place will I not leave Until I needs must go my death to meet, Or at thy hands some happy sign receive That in great joy we twain may one day greet Thy presence here and kiss thy silver feet, Such as we deem thee, fair beyond all words, Victorious o’er our servants and our lords.” Then from the altar back a space he drew, But from the Queen turned not his face away, But ‘gainst a pillar leaned, until the blue That arched the sky, at ending of the day, Was turned to ruddy gold and changing gray, And clear, but low, the nigh-ebbed windless sea In the still evening murmured ceaselessly. And there he stood when all the sun was down, Nor had he moved, when the dim golden light, Like the fair lustre of a godlike town, Had left the world to seeming hopeless night, Nor would he move the more when wan moonlight Streamed through the pillows for a little while, And lighted up the white Queen’s changeless smile. Nought noted he the shallow-flowing sea As step by step it set the wrack a-swim; The yellow torchlight nothing noted he Wherein with fluttering gown and half-bared limb The temple damsels sung their midnight hymn; And nought the doubled stillness of the fane When they were gone and all was hushed again. But when the waves had touched the marble base, And steps the fish swim over twice a-day, The dawn beheld him sunken in his place Upon the floor; and sleeping there he lay, Not heeding aught the little jets of spray The roughened sea brought nigh, across him cast, For as one dead all thought from him had passed. Yet long before the sun had showed his head, Long ere the varied hangings on the wall Had gained once more their blue and green and red, He rose as one some well-known sign doth call When war upon the city’s gates doth fall, And scarce like one fresh risen out of sleep, He ‘gan again his broken watch to keep. Then he turned round; not for the sea-gull’s cry That wheeled above the temple in his flight, Not for the fresh south wind that lovingly Breathed on the new-born day and dying night, But some strange hope ‘twixt fear and great delight Drew round his face, now flushed, now pale and wan, And still constrained his eyes the sea to scan. Now a faint light lit up the southern sky, Not sun or moon, for all the world was gray, But this a bright cloud seemed, that drew anigh, Lighting the dull waves that beneath it lay As toward the temple still it took its way, And still grew greater, till Milanion Saw nought for dazzling light that round him shone. But as he staggered with his arms outspread, Delicious unnamed odours breathed around, For languid happiness he bowed his head, And with wet eyes sank down upon the ground, Nor wished for aught, nor any dream he found To give him reason for that happiness, Or make him ask more knowledge of his bliss. At last his eyes were cleared, and he could see Through happy tears the goddess face to face With that faint image of Divinity, Whose well-wrought smile and dainty changeless grace Until that morn so gladdened all the place; Then, he unwitting cried aloud her name And covered up his eyes for fear and shame. But through the stillness he her voice could hear Piercing his heart with joy scarce bearable, That said, “Milanion, wherefore dost thou fear, I am not hard to those who love me well; List to what I a second time will tell, And thou mayest hear perchance, and live to save The cruel maiden from a loveless grave. “See, by my feet three golden apples lie– Such fruit among the heavy roses falls, Such fruit my watchful damsels carefully Store up within the best loved of my walls, Ancient Damascus, where the lover calls Above my unseen head, and faint and light The rose-leaves flutter round me in the night. “And note, that these are not alone most fair With heavenly gold, but longing strange they bring Unto the hearts of men, who will not care Beholding these, for any once-loved thing Till round the shining sides their fingers cling. And thou shalt see thy well-girt swift-foot maid By sight of these amidst her glory stayed. “For bearing these within a scrip with thee, When first she heads thee from the starting-place Cast down the first one for her eyes to see, And when she turns aside make on apace, And if again she heads thee in the race Spare not the other two to cast aside If she not long enough behind will bide. “Farewell, and when has come the happy time That she Diana’s raiment must unbind And all the world seems blessed with Saturn’s clime, And thou with eager arms about her twined Beholdest first her gray eyes growing kind, Surely, O trembler, thou shalt scarcely then Forget the Helper of unhappy men.” Milanion raised his head at this last word For now so soft and kind she seemed to be No longer of her Godhead was he feared; Too late he looked; for nothing could he see But the white image glimmering doubtfully In the departing twilight cold and gray, And those three apples on the step that lay. These then he caught up quivering with delight, Yet fearful lest it all might be a dream; And though aweary with the watchful night, And sleepless nights of longing, still did deem He could not sleep; but yet the first sunbeam That smote the fane across the heaving deep Shone on him laid in calm, untroubled sleep. But little ere the noontide did he rise, And why he felt so happy scarce could tell Until the gleaming apples met his eyes. Then leaving the fair place where this befell Oft he looked back as one who loved it well, Then homeward to the haunts of men, ‘gan wend To bring all things unto a happy end. Now has the lingering month at last gone by, Again are all folk round the running place, Nor other seems the dismal pageantry Than heretofore, but that another face Looks o’er the smooth course ready for the race, For now, beheld of all, Milanion Stands on the spot he twice has looked upon. But yet–what change is this that holds the maid? Does she indeed see in his glittering eye More than disdain of the sharp shearing blade, Some happy hope of help and victory? The others seem’d to say, “We come to die; Look down upon us for a little while, That, dead, we may bethink us of thy smile.” But he–what look of mastery was this He cast on her? why were his lips so red; Why was his face so flush’d with happiness? So looks not one who deems himself but dead, E’en if to death he bows a willing head; So rather looks a god well pleas’d to find Some earthly damsel fashion’d to his mind, Why must she drop her lids before his gaze, And even as she casts adown her eyes Redden to note his eager glance of praise, And wish that she were clad in other guise? Why must the memory to her heart arise Of things unnoticed when they first were heard, Some lover’s song, some answering maiden’s word? What makes these longings, vague–without a name, And this vain pity never felt before, This sudden languor, this contempt of fame, This tender sorrow for the time past o’er, These doubts that grow each minute more and more? Why does she tremble as the time grows near, And weak defeat and woeful victory fear? But while she seem’d to hear her beating heart, Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out And forth they sprang, and she must play her part; Then flew her white feet, knowing not a doubt, Though, slackening once, she turn’d her head about, But then she cried aloud and faster fled Than e’er before, and all men deemed him dead. But with no sound he raised aloft his hand, And thence what seemed a ray of light there flew And past the maid rolled on along the sand; Then trembling she her feet together drew And in her heart a strong desire there grew To have the toy, some god she thought had given That gift to her, to make of earth a heaven. Then from the course with eager steps she ran, And in her odorous bosom laid the gold. But when she turned again, the great-limbed man, Now well ahead she failed not to behold, And mindful of her glory waxing cold, Sprang up and followed him in hot pursuit, Though with one hand she touched the golden fruit. Note, too, the bow that she was wont to bear She laid aside to grasp the glittering prize, And o’er her shoulder from the quiver fair Three arrows fell and lay before her eyes Unnoticed, as amidst the people’s cries She sprang to head the strong Milanion, Who now the turning-post had well-nigh won. But as he set his mighty hand on it White fingers underneath his own were laid, And white limbs from his dazzled eyes did flit, Then he the second fruit cast by the maid: She ran awhile, and then as one afraid Wavered and stopped, and turned and made no stay, Until the globe with its bright fellow lay. Then, as a troubled glance she cast around, Now far ahead the Argive could she see, And in her garment’s hem one hand she wound To keep the double prize, and strenuously Sped o’er the course, and little doubt had she To win the day, though now but scanty space Was left betwixt him and the winning place. Short was the way unto such wingèd feet, Quickly she gained upon him till at last He turned about her eager eyes to meet And from his hand the third fair apple cast. She wavered not, but turned and ran so fast After the prize that should her bliss fulfil, That in her hand it lay ere it was still. Nor did she rest, but turned about to win Once more, an unblest woeful victory– And yet–and yet–why does her breath begin To fail her, and her feet drag heavily? Why fails she now to see if far or nigh The goal is? why do her gray eyes grow dim? Why do these tremors run through every limb? She spreads her arms abroad some stay to find Else must she fall, indeed, and findeth this, A strong man’s arms about her body twined. Nor may she shudder now to feel his kiss, So wrapped she is in new unbroken bliss: Made happy that the foe the prize hath won, She weeps glad tears for all her glory done. Shatter the trumpet, hew adown the posts! Upon the brazen altar break the sword, And scatter incense to appease the ghosts Of those who died here by their own award. Bring forth the image of the mighty Lord, And her who unseen o’er the runners hung, And did a deed for ever to be sung. Here are the gathered folk; make no delay, Open King Schœneus’ well-filled treasury, Bring out the gifts long hid from light of day, The golden bowls o’erwrought with imagery, Gold chains, and unguents brought from over sea, The saffron gown the old Phœnician brought, Within the temple of the Goddess wrought. O ye, O damsels, who shall never see Her, that Love’s servant bringeth now to you, Returning from another victory, In some cool bower do all that now is due! Since she in token of her service new Shall give to Venus offerings rich enow, Her maiden zone, her arrows and her bow. ~ Atalanta’s Race – William Morris


Trials of life determine where we stand tomorrow.


If we continue to have faith in God in our dark times and problems, God will guide us to the path out of the problems.

When things begin to get so hard and I’m finding it difficult to stay positive, I just kneel and pray, then hope it gets better. It usually does.

I truly respect those people who stay strong during hard times. Even when they have every reason to break down.

The life you are living now, all the hardships and trials; is just a testimony raising up to be told.

Let the light of faith guide you during the time of hardship and adversity don’t let the fear and negativity affect you.

In my hard times, I always find it difficult to understand God’s love for me. But in the end, I realize how much He has loved me in all those times.

Do not let problems ruin your relationship, hardships are just tests that’ll make your bond stronger.

Every second of every day someone is going through the worst moments of their lives. If today’s just an ordinary day for you, consider that to be a blessing.

Tough times are a blessing in disguise, it always reveals the true color of the people around us.

Sometimes life is hard but the hardship is measured in the mind, so we should not flee the challenges we face. For with the challenges of life, discretion should be used.

Trials of life determine where we stand tomorrow.

Worrying has never solved any problem but with prayers, faith, hope and love, we shall always conquer through hard times.

Never let hard times break you. Be strengthened by the adverse circumstances you are going through and allow yourself to gain from these experiences.

Life can be very hard sometimes and you wonder why, but a little compassion is sometimes all anyone needs to get by.