Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sunday Morning Peace
"Our Father which art in heaven . . ."
My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard.
Mother would come out and say,
"You're tearing up the grass."
"We're not raising grass," Dad would reply.
"We're raising boys."
A truly rich man is one whose children run
into his arms when his hands are empty.
Father! To God himself we cannot give a holier name.
Love and fear.
Everything the father of a family says
must inspire one or the other.
He didn't tell me how to live;
and let me watch him do it.
--Chlarence Budington Kelland
Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder
will remain with me forever.
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