This is the poem my 7yo is learning this week - I need to learn this lesson, too!!

A little bird, with feathers brown,
Sat singing on a tree;
The song was very soft and low,
But sweet as it could be.

And all the people passing by
Looked up to see the bird
Whose singing was the sweetest thing
That ever they had heard.

But all the bright eyes looked in vain;
For birdie was so small,
And, with a modest dark brown coat,
He made no show at all.

"Dear Papa," little Gracie said,
"Where can this birdie be?
If I could only sing like that,
I'd sit where folks could see."

"I hope my little girl will learn
A lesson from that bird;
And try to do what good she can -
Not  to be seen nor heard.

"This birdie is content to sit
Unnoticed by the way,
And sweetly sing his Maker's praise,
From dawn to close of day.

"so live, my child, to do some good,
Let life be short or long;
Though people may forget your looks,
They'll not forget your song."

(I cannot find an author for this poem.  If anyone else knows who the author may be, please let me know so I can add the name here.  Thanks!).

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost

(Painting by Robert Duncan)

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was filled with sorrow at the tragic death of his wife in a fire in 1861. The Civil War broke out that same year, and it seemed this was an additional punishment. Two years later, Longfellow was again saddened to hear the his own son had been seriously wounded as a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac.

Sitting down to his desk, one Christmas Day, he heard the church bells ringing, and ringing. It was in this setting he wrote:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
There is no peace on earth I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep,
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.

At this Chirstmas time whether you are in sorrow or in joy you can know that God is not dead, not doth he sleep. He knows your every need and longs to comfort you and be that special friend you need. Seek Him this year instead of the outward manifestations of the season. He will give life real meaning and your heart real peace, the peace that passes all understanding.

From : Pastor Tim's Clean Laugh Site