Frank Moore

Farewell, we must part; we have turned from the land Of our cold-hearted brother, with tyrannous hand, Who assumed all our rights as a favor to grant, And whose smile ever covered the sting of a taunt; Who breathed on the fame he was bound to defend— Still the craftiest foe, ’neath the guise of a friend; Who believed that our bosoms would bleed at a touch, Yet could never believe he could goad them too much; Whose conscience affects to be seared with our sin, Yet is plastic to take all its benefits in; The mote in our eye so enormous has grown, That he never perceives there’s a beam in his own.

Eternal God, give me eyes to see evidence of Your existence in my world, and help me rest in the awareness that You are in charge.

God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. —Empedocles