manly men, and sheep

It was encouraging tonight - especially tonight - to see an auditorium full of men. Assuredly, there were also women present (myself included), but a room almost full of men brings such ... hope. What a future to have so many manly men of God in the same room, thirsting for the words of the Creator / Shepherd, and desiring to be strengthened for better toolship. How encouraging to know that, like Elijah, there are "others out there." Although I am not a man nor am I a pastor, it was a blessing to be a part of such a large group of men seeking Him this evening, and being part of what will be infinitely better some day soon. What a blessing to be a part of the Body, when voices lift souls up to the throneroom, and the one Voice that needs to be heard is heard ever-so-clearly by the ones He has chosen. Praise Him for being such a Creator, and such a shepherd that - foolish though it may appear-  chose to die for the creatures for whom He was caring, or, as Carson so humanly put it:

"I am the Good Shepherd... [Christ] gives His life for the sheep, then comes back from the dead and secures them!" 

Sunday Night - an ode to sheep herders.

Frances Ridley Havergal wrote a poem entitled "Sunday Night" that you really must read. While reading it, think about all the pastors you know that have spoken the truth to you; this is for them.

So I have copied and pasted it here for you, or you can click the above link to find the webpage it was originally found. (well, actually, there was an excerpt in "Lone Point," a novel by GLH.

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REST him, O Father! Thou didst send him forth
With great and gracious messages of love;
But Thy ambassador is weary now,
Worn with the weight of his high embassy.
Now care for him as Thou hast cared for us
In sending him ; and cause him to lie down
In Thy fresh pastures, by Thy streams of peace.
Let Thy left hand be now beneath his head,
And Thine upholding right encircle him,
And, underneath, the Everlasting arms
Be felt in full support. So let him rest,
Hushed like a little child, without one care,
And so give Thy beloved sleep to-night.

Rest him, dear Master! He hath poured for us
The wine of joy, and we have been refreshed.
Now fill his chalice, give him sweet new draughts
Of life and love, with Thine own hand; be Thou
His ministrant to-night; draw very near
In all Thy tenderness and all Thy power.
Oh speak to him! Thou knowest how to speak
A word in season to Thy weary ones,
And he is weary now. Thou lovest him--
Let Thy disciple lean upon Thy breast,
And, leaning, gain new strength to 'rise and shine.'

Rest him, O loving Spirit! Let Thy calm
Fall on his soul to-night. O holy Dove,
Spread Thy bright wing above him, let him rest
Beneath its shadow; let him know afresh
The infinite truth and might of Thy dear name--
'Our Comforter!' As gentlest touch will stay
The strong vibrations of a jarring chord,
So lay Thy hand upon his heart, and still
Each overstraining throb, each pulsing pain.
Then, in the stillness, breathe upon the strings,
And let Thy holy music overflow
With soothing power his listening, resting soul.