The inspiration for this website came from a Scripture song I heard over 10 years ago at a ladies retreat:

Like Apples of Gold in pictures of silver
A word fitly spoken shall be,
Like Apples of Gold in pictures of silver
Let my life bring glory to thee.

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.
Proverbs 25:11

Although some of the "stories" listed are made up, the Scriptural truths they illustrate are very real and can be of great benefit in a Christian's walk with the Lord and as illustrations for the lost.

It is my heart's desire that amongst the pages of this website, the Christian find words of encouragement and be spurred on to service for our Lord, and that seekers of the truth find Salvation in the timeless truths of God's Word for these troubled times.

- Angela

Salvation

Softly And Tenderly

Softly And Tenderly

by  Will L. Thompson

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Refrain

Come home, come home,
Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading,
Pleading for you and for me?
Why should we linger and heed not His mercies,
Mercies for you and for me?

Refrain

Come home, come home,
Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing,
Passing from you and from me;
Shadows are gathering, deathbeds are coming,
Coming for you and for me.

Refrain

Come home, come home,
Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

O for the wonderful love He has promised,
Promised for you and for me!
Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon,
Pardon for you and for me.

Refrain

Come home, come home,
Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

Scarred Hands

Scarred Hands

WILLIAM DIXON couldn’t believe there was a God, and he would certainly not forgive Him for taking away his young wife about two years after they were married, and his little boy had also died. Dixon felt very desolate and bitter.

Ten years after Mary Dixon’s death a stirring event occurred in the little village of Brackenthwaite. Old Peggy Winslow’s cottage caught fire, and was burnt to the ground. The poor old woman was pulled out alive, though nearly suffocated by smoke, when the bystanders were horrified to hear a child’s pitiful voice. It was the voice of little Dickey Winslow – Peggy’s orphan grandchild. The flames awoke him and drove him shrieking to the attic window.

Onlookers were much distressed to see the child’s plight, but felt it was too late to save him, as the stair had already fallen in. Suddenly, William Dixon rushed to the burning cottage, climbed up the iron piping, and took the trembling boy in his arms. Down he came again, holding the child in his right arm, and supporting himself by his left, the two reached the ground in safety, amid the cheers, just as the smoking wall fell.

Dickey was not hurt, but the hand with which Dixon held on to the hot piping was terribly burnt. The burn healed, but left a deep scar that he would carry to his grave.

Poor old Peggy could not rally from the shock, and died soon after. Then the question was: What is to become of Dickey? James Lovatt, a most respectable person, begged that Dickey be given to him to adopt, as he and his wife longed for a little lad, having lost one of their own. To every one’s surprise, Will Dixon made a similar request. It was difficult to decide between the two. So a meeting was called, composed of the minister, miller, and others.

Mr. Haywood, the miller, said: “It is very kind of both Lovatt and Dixon to offer to adopt the orphan boy, but I am in a great perplexity as to which of them ought to have him. Dixon, having saved his life, has the first claim; but, on the other hand, Lovatt has a wife, and the care of a woman is necessary to a child.”

Mr. Lipton, the minister, said: “A man of Dixon’s atheistic notions cannot be a suitable guardian for a child; whilst Lovatt and his wife are both Christian people, and would train up the child in the way he should go.”

“Dixon saved the child’s body, but it would be a sorry thing for the boy’s future welfare if the one who took him from the burning cottage would be the means of leading him to his eternal ruin.”

“We will hear what the applicants themselves have to say,” said Mr. Haywood, “then put the question to the vote, Mr. Lovatt.”

Mr. Lovatt replied: “Well, gentlemen, my wife and I lost a little lad of our own not long ago, and we feel this child would fill the vacant place. We would do our best to bring up the lad in the fear of the Lord. Besides, a child so young needs a woman to look after it.”

“Good, Mr. Lovatt; and now, Mr. Dixon.”

“I have only one argument, sir, and it is this,” answered Dixon quietly, as he took the bandage off his left hand, and held up the sadly scarred and injured member.

For a few moments there was quiet in the room, the eyes of some were dimmed. There was something in the sight of that scarred hand which appealed to their sense of justice. He had a claim on the boy by reason of what he has suffered for him. So, when the question was put to the vote, the meeting decided by a majority in favour of William Dixon.

So a new era began for Dixon. Dickey never missed a mother’s care, for Will was both father and mother to the orphan boy, and lavished all the pent-up tenderness of his strong nature upon the child he had saved.

Dickey was a clever boy, and quickly responded to his adopted father’s training; he adored him with all the fervour of his loving little heart. He remembered how “daddy” had saved him from the fire, and had claimed him because of the hand so dreadfully burnt for his sake. It moved Dickey to tears, with kisses on the hand that had been scarred for him.

One summer there was a great exhibition of pictures in the town and Dixon took Dickey to see them. The boy was greatly interested in the pictures and the stories daddy told about some of them. The picture that impressed him most was one of the Lord reproving Thomas; underneath which were the words:

“Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands”- John 20:27.

Dickey read the words and said, “Please, daddy, tell me the story of that picture.” – “No, not that one!” – “Why not that one?”

“Because it’s a story I do not believe.”

“Oh, but that’s nothing”, urged Dickey; “you don’t believe the story of Jack the Giantkiller, yet it’s one of my favourites. Do tell me the story of the picture – please, daddy.” So Dixon told the story, and it interested him greatly.

“It’s like you and me, daddy,” said the boy. “When the Lovatts wanted to get me, you showed them your hand. Perhaps when Thomas saw the scars on the Good Man’s hands he felt that he belonged to Him.”

“I suppose so,” answered Dixon.

“The Good Man looked so sad,“ said Dickey, “I ‘spect He was sorry that Thomas did not believe at first. It was horrid of him not to, wasn’t it, after the Good Man had died for him? “

Dixon did not answer, and Dickey went on, “It would have been horrid of me if I’d contradicted like that when they told me about you and the fire, and said I didn’t believe you had done it; wouldn’t it, daddy?”

“I don’t want to think about him, my boy.”

“But perhaps he loved the Good Man after that, though – like I love you. When I see your poor hand, daddy, I love you more than millions and millions.”

Tired little Dickey fell asleep before he had measured the amount of his grateful affection; but Dixon’s rest was sorely disturbed that night. He could not get out of his thoughts the picture of that tender, sorrowful Face which had looked down on him from the walls of the exhibition. He dreamed of Lovatt and himself contending for the possession of Dickey; but when he showed his scarred hand the boy turned away from him. A bitter sense of injustice surged up in his heart.

He did not yield to this influence at once, but his love for Dickey had softened his heart, and the seed that was dropped in it that day did not fall upon stony ground. Dixon was an honest man, and he could not fail to see that the argument he had employed to make Dickey his own, rose up in judgment against him whilst he denied the claim of those scarred Hands which had been pierced for him; and when he saw the child’s warm hearted gratitude for the deliverance which his adopted father had wrought for him, Dixon felt that he cut a sorry figure beside his boy.

So, after a time, Dixon’s heart became as that of a little child. He found out by reading the Book, that as Dickey belonged to him, so he belonged to the Saviour who had been wounded for his transgressions, and he gave himself up body, soul and spirit – into the keeping of those blessed hands which had once been pierced for him.

“He was despised, and we esteemed Him not…. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities.” – “Who His Own Self bare our sins in His Own body on the tree” – 1 Pet. 2:24.

“The blood of Jesus Christ His son cleanseth us from all sin.” – 1 John 1:7.

“In Whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins.” – Eph. 1:7.

“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” – Acts 4:12.

The Cleansing Wave

The Cleansing Wave

Words & Music: Phoebe Palmer Knapp (1839-1908)

Oh, now I see the cleansing wave!
The fountain deep and wide;
Jesus, my Lord, mighty to save,
Points to His wounded side.

Refrain
The cleansing stream I see! I see!
I plunge, and oh, it cleanseth me!
Oh, praise the Lord! It cleanseth me!
It cleanseth me—yes, cleanseth me.

I rise to walk in heaven’s own light,
Above the world and sin,
With heart made pure and garments white,
And Christ enthroned within.

Refrain
The cleansing stream I see! I see!
I plunge, and oh, it cleanseth me!
Oh, praise the Lord! It cleanseth me!
It cleanseth me—yes, cleanseth me.

Amazing grace! ’tis heaven below
To feel the blood applied,
And Jesus, only Jesus know,
My Jesus crucified.

Refrain

The cleansing stream I see! I see!
I plunge, and oh, it cleanseth me!
Oh, praise the Lord! It cleanseth me!
It cleanseth me—yes, cleanseth me.

The Cleansing Blood

The Cleansing Blood

Author Unknown

One night in a church service a young woman felt the tug of God at her heart. She responded to God’s call and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior. The young woman had a very rough past, involving alcohol, drugs, and prostitution. But, the change in her was evident. As time went on she became a faithful member of the church. She eventually became involved in the ministry, teaching young children. It was not very long until this faithful young woman had caught the eye and heart of the pastor’s son.

The relationship grew and they began to make wedding plans. This is when the problems began. You see, about one half of the church did not think that a woman with a past such as hers was suitable for a pastor’s son.

The church began to argue and fight about the matter. So they decided to have a meeting. As the people made their arguments and tensions increased, the meeting was getting completely out of hand. The young woman became very upset about all the things being brought up about her past. As she began to cry the pastor’s son stood to speak. He could not bear the pain it was causing his wife to be.

He began to speak and his statement was this:

” My fiancee’s past is not what is on trial here. What you are questioning is the ability of the blood of Jesus to wash away sin. Today you have put the blood of Jesus on trial. So, does it wash away sin or not?” The whole church began to weep as they realized that they had been slandering the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Too often, even as Christians, we bring up the past and use it as a weapon against our brothers and sisters. Forgiveness is a very foundational part of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. If the blood of Jesus does not cleanse the other person completely then it cannot cleanse us completely. If that is the case, then we are all in a lot of trouble.

What can wash away my sins, nothing but the blood of Jesus….end of case!!!

Pass this on to everyone that you truly care for at all….we all need this message…. God Forgives.. So Should We.

The Haven of Rest

The Haven of Rest

My soul in sad exile was out on life's sea,
So burdened with sin and distress
'Till I heard a sweet voice, saying, "Make me your choice;"
And I entered the "Haven of Rest!"

Chorus
I've anchored my soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
I'll sail the wide seas no more;
The tempest may sweep over the wild, stormy deep,
In Jesus, I'm safe evermore.

I yielded myself to His tender embrace,
And faith taking hold of the Word,
My fetters fell off, and I anchored my soul;
The "Haven of Rest" is my Lord.

Chorus
I've anchored my soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
I'll sail the wide seas no more;
The tempest may sweep over the wild, stormy deep,
In Jesus, I'm safe evermore.

The song of my soul, since the Lord made me whole,
has been the old story so blest,
Of Jesus, who'll save who-so-ever will have
A home in the "Haven of Rest!"

Chorus
I've anchored my soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
I'll sail the wide seas no more;
he tempest may sweep over the wild, stormy deep,
In Jesus, I'm safe evermore.

How precious the thought that we all may recline,
Like John the beloved and blest,
On Jesus' strong arm, where no tempest can harm,
Secure in the "Haven of Rest!"

Chorus
I've anchored my soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
I'll sail the wide seas no more;
The tempest may sweep over the wild, stormy deep,
In Jesus, I'm safe evermore.

Oh, come to the Savior, He patiently waits
To save by His power divine;
Come, anchor your soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
And say, "My Beloved is mine."

Chorus
I've anchored my soul in the "Haven of Rest,"
I'll sail the wide seas no more;
The tempest may sweep over the wild, stormy deep,
In Jesus, I'm safe evermore.

by Henry L. Gilmour and George D. Moore

The Sparrow Has Flown Home

The Sparrow Has Flown Home

She’s just a little sparrow,
A weakened vessel made of clay;
Yearning for the day break,
When the shadows will flee away.

Looking for the Sun of Righteousness
To arise with healing in His wings.
As the Saviour waits with open arms,
This little sparrow begins to sing.

Her Heavenly Father numbers each little hair;
Not one of them can come to lasting harm.
Not a sparrow can fall apart from His will –
She is safely resting in His everlasting arms.

Precious in the sight of the Lord
Is the death of one of His own.
Her Father waits to receive His child –
Into the loving arms of Jesus she has flown.

Now she is flying near God’s Heavenly altar,
Forever to worship before His throne;
Dwelling in the Lord’s presence –
This little sparrow has flown home.

Jerry Bouey
August 30th/04

This poem dedicated to my mother-in-law,
Carol Ann Trenholm,
who died of cancer, August 26, 2004, and loved Jerry’s poetry.

Her memorial page can be seen here:

Carol’s Memorial Page

Daily Blessings



    The link to the Daily Blessing provider is given for credit purposes only. I cannot endorse all content on their website. - Angela

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