“Into all our lives, in many simple, familiar, homely ways, God infuses this element of joy from the surprises of life, which unexpectedly brighten our days and fill our eyes with light. He drops this added sweetness into His children’s cup, and makes it to run over. The success we were not counting on, the blessing we were not trying after, the strain of music in the midst of drudgery, the beautiful morning picture or sunset glory thrown in as we pass to or from our daily business, the unsought word of encouragement or expression of sympathy, the sentence that meant for us more than the writer or speaker thought, – these and a hundred others that everyone’s experience can supply are instances of what I mean. You may call it accident or chance – it often is; you may call it human goodness – it often is; but always, always call it God’s love, for that is always in it. These are the overflowing riches of His grace, these are His free gifts.”
Samuel Longfellow, (1819 – 1892) brother of the Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Love is a morning sunrise; Love is the rain that falls;
Love is an evening sunset, A stranger who calls.Love is an April shower, The warmth of a summer day.
Love is the hidden sunshine That chases tears away.Love is a bolt of lightning Slashing across the sky.
Love is the tender warmth I see within your eye.Green as the grass that’s growing, Blue as the sky above,
Soft as the wind that’s blowing, All these things are love.“What love is”. One of Roger Whittaker’s songs. (1936 – )
