Easter
Quotes - Love paid a price so hope could become a reality
“There
was a warrior once who fought
Against
man's subtlest, mightiest foe,
And
more than valiant deeds he wrought
T'
effect th' enslaver's overthrow.
But
ah! how dread was his campaign,
Forc'd
in the wilderness to stray,
Lone,
hungry, stung with grief and pain,
And
thus sustain the arduous fray.
Prompt
at each call from place to place,
'Mid
sin's dark shade and sorrow's flow,
He
sped to save man's erring race,
And
bear for him the vengeful blow.
But
when his soldiers saw the strife,
When
imminent the danger grew,
Though
'twas for them he pledg'd his life,
Like
dastards from the field they flew.
Wearied,
forsaken, still he strove,
And
gain'd the glorious victory;
Yet
such achievements few could move,
To
hail his triumpn 'beath the sky.
Dying
he conquer'd; yet at last
No
human honours grac'd his bier;
No
trumpet wail'd its mournful blast,
No
muffl'd drum made music drear.
But
when he dy'd the rocks were rent,
The
sun his radiant beams withheld,
All
nature shudder'd at th' event,
And
horror every bosom swell'd.
E'en
Death, fell Death! could not detain
Him,
who for man his life had given,
He
burst the ineffectual chain,
And
soar'd his advocate to heaven.”
―
Thomas Gillet, The Juvenile Wreath; Consisting of Poems, Chiefly on the Subject
of Natural History
“The
fictional exploits of buccaneering men had lost their magic for him. Besides,
there were other pirates on view in Tilbury that spring.
One,
unredeemed by any amnesty, hung from the gibbet at Tilbury Point, tugged at by
a brisk breeze off the river. His body had been bound in chains, daubed with
tar and encased in a cage, denied Christian burial as a warning to the living
of the hideousness of death.
It
did not have quite that effect on Nathan. "It's Easter," he said to
Hardcastle.
"A
week since," said Hardcastle.
"When
they went to the tomb to rewrap Christ's body . . ."
Harcastle
threw Toby in the air and caught him repeatedly, making the child laugh and
laugh.
".
. . except that it had gone . . ." said Nathan.
"Raised
to glory," agreed Harcastle, rubbing noses with the baby.
".
. . out into the garden."
Suddenly
it seemed to him that the tarry skull of the pirate on the gibbet might not be
shouting a warning after all -- that his decaying corpse might no longer be
suffering the torments of the gibbet as his executioners like to suggest with
cage and chain and padlock. There were amnesties other than the King's.
The
man might simply be singing: singing and dancing in the bright, brittle Easter
sunshine, held up in midair not by chains but by invisible hands or on
invisible shoulders.”
―
Geraldine McCaughrean, The Pirate's Son
“i m
tune with WEST but everything Also Found In EAST”
―
Sushil Singh
“The
best Christmas present you can give to your dead grandfather is not showing up
until Easter. And telling no one about it. Especially not yourself.”
―
Will Advise, Nothing is here...
“There
is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph
falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody's voice in the hall
that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears. Who can say when or
how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a
time before we were born and after we will die?”
―
Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy
Tale
“Love
paid a price so hope could become a reality.”
―
Susan Gaddis
“Mary
Magdalene
With
wandering eyes and aimless zeal,
She
hither, thither, goes;
Her
speech, her motions, all reveal
A
mind without repose.
She climbs
the hills, she haunts the sea,
By
madness tortured, driven;
One
hour's forgetfulness would be
A
gift from very heaven!
She
slumbers into new distress;
The
night is worse than day:
Exulting
in her helplessness;
Hell's
dogs yet louder bay.
The
demons blast her to and fro;
She
has not quiet place,
Enough
a woman still, to know
A
haunting dim disgrace.
A
human touch! a pang of death!
And
in a low delight
Thou
liest, waiting for new breath,
For
morning out of night.
Thou
risest up: the earth is fair,
The
wind is cool; thou art free!
Is
it a dream of hell's despair
Dissolves
in ecstasy?
That
man did touch thee! Eyes divine
Make
sunrise in thy soul;
Thou
seest love in order shine:-
His
health hath made thee whole!
Thou,
sharing in the awful doom,
Didst
help thy Lord to die;
Then,
weeping o'er his empty tomb,
Didst
hear him Mary cry.
He
stands in haste; he cannot stop;
Home
to his God he fares:
'Go
tell my brothers I go up
To
my Father, mine and theirs.'
Run,
Mary! lift thy heavenly voice;
Cry,
cry, and heed not how;
Make
all the new-risen world rejoice-
Its
first apostle thou!
What
if old tales of thee have lied,
Or
truth have told, thou art
All-safe
with Him, whate'er betide
Dwell'st
with Him in God's heart!”
―
George MacDonald
“Two
thousand years ago Jesus is crucified, three days later he walks out of a cave
and they celebrate with chocolate bunnies and marshmallow Peeps and beautifully
decorated eggs. I guess these were things Jesus loved as a child.”
―
Billy Crystal, Still Foolin' 'Em: Where I've Been, Where I'm Going, and Where
the Hell Are My Keys
“The
only cross in all of history that was turned into an altar was the cross on
which Jesus Christ died. It was a Roman cross. They nailed Him on it, and God,
in His majesty and mystery, turned it into an altar. The Lamb who was dying in
the mystery and wonder of God was turned into the Priest who offered Himself.
No one else was a worthy offering.”
―
A.W. Tozer, Preparing for Jesus' Return: Daily Live the Blessed Hope
“On
Holy Saturday I do my best to live in that place, that wax-crayon place of
trust and waiting. Of accepting what I cannot know. Of mourning what needs to
be mourned. Of accepting what needs to be accepted. Of hoping for what seems
impossible.”
―
Jerusalem Jackson Greer, A Homemade Year: The Blessings of Cooking, Crafting,
and Coming Together
“The
flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This
Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now
far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have
gathered them and will do never again.”
―
Edward Thomas
“Then
she looked at the man on the tree and she smiled wryly. "They just aren't
as interesting naked," she said. "It's the unwrapping that's half the
fun. Like with gifts, and eggs.”
―
Neil Gaiman, American Gods
