The earth has grown old with its burden of care, But at Christmas it always is young.
Phillips BrooksRead
Where charity stands watching and faith holds wide the door the dark night wakes - the glory breaks, Christmas comes once more.
Interpretation
This quote expresses the idea that charity and faith bring hope and joy, especially during the Christmas season.
Phillips Brooks highlights the significance of charity and faith as guiding lights during trying times. The imagery of charity watching and faith opening the door suggests that these virtues usher in a time of renewal and hope, represented by the arrival of Christmas, which symbolizes joy and compassion amidst darkness.
In practice
This quote can be shared during holiday gatherings to inspire giving and unity.
The earth has grown old with its burden of care, But at Christmas it always is young.
We never become truly spiritual by sitting down and wishing to become so. You must undertake something so great that you cannot accomplish it unaided.
The truest help we can render an afflicted man is not to take his burden from him, but to call out his best energy, that he may be able to bear the burden.
To believe in the God over us and around us and not in the God within us - that would be a powerless and fruitless faith.
To say, 'well done' to any bit of good work is to take hold of the powers which have made the effort and strengthen them beyond our knowledge.
Think of life as a voyage. The truest liver of the truest life is like a voyager who, as he sails, is not indifferent to all the beauty of the sea around him.
Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning and Shame sits with us at night.
Historical capitalism is a materialist civilization.
The savage in man is never quite eradicated.
I stay away from heavy-handed stuff, the good guy and the bad guy. It just doesn't interest me; all it does is create more fences between people, I think.
So the city became the material expression of a particular loss of innocence β not sexual or political innocence but somehow a shared dream of what a city might at its best prove to be β its inhabitants became, and have remained, an embittered and amnesiac race, wounded but unable to connect through memory to the moment of injury, unable to summon the face of their violator.
Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
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