Beyond The Sunset

Beyond The Sunset

Beyond the sunset, O blissful morning.
When with our Saviour heaven's begun.
Earth's toiling ended, O glorious dawning
Beyond the sunset when day is done.

Beyond the sunset, no clouds will gather.
No storms will threaten, no fears annoy.
O day of gladness, O day unending.
Beyond the sunset eternal joy.

Beyond the sunset, a hand will guide me,
To God the Father whom I adore.
His glorious presence, His words of welcome,
Will be my portion on that fair shore.

Beyond the sunset, O glad reunion,
With our dear loved ones who've gone before,
In that fair homeland we'll know no parting.
Beyond the sunset forever more.

This is what Blanche Brock said about his hymn, “Beyond the Sunset.” This song was born during a conversation at the dinner table one evening, in 1936, after we diners had watched a very unusual sunset at Winona lake, Indiana, with a blind guest. We went to the dinner table still talking about the impressive spectacle we had witnessed. Our blind guest excitedly remarked that he had never seen a more beautiful sunset. Our blind guest said, “I see through other people’s eyes, and I think I often see more; I see beyond the sunset.” The phrase “beyond the sunset” and the striking inflection of his voice struck me so forcibly, I began singing the first few measures. We then went to the piano and completed the first verse. “You should have a verse about the storm clouds,” our guest urged, and the words for this verse came quickly as well. Recalling how closely our guest had walked with his wife hand in hand together for so many years due to his blindness, the third verse was soon added.

I would like to dedicate this post to my dear friend Lisa and her Family.

I would also like to dedicate this post to Carole who lost her brother also this past summer, and to all those who have lost a loved one at one time or another.

You are in my thoughts and prayers

Love and Hugs

Dianne :)

11:24 PM | Blog it | Inspirational

Autumn Roses In My Garden

 

 

 

Yesterdays Rose Still Blooming In My Garden

 

 

 

The Rose

Some say love, it is a river
that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
and you it's only seed.
It's the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking
that never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
who cannot seem to give,
and the soul afraid of dying
that never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been to long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong,
just remember in the winter
far beneath the winter snows
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose.

~ Bette Midler

 

 

 

If I had a rose for every time I thought of you,

I'd be picking roses for a lifetime.

 

 

I would like to dedicate this blog to my dad who was planted this past spring. He is now a Rose in Bloom, in God’s Garden up above.

In a round and about way my dad gave me a gift which I just received . My dad was not a rich man but was generous with what he had. I was able to choose that gift, and these photos were taken with my new camera. I would not have this camera if it weren’t for my dad. I think he would be very happy to know he contributed to one of my life passions. That being photography. I have a lot to learn, but it is fun learning what I love. I enjoy sharing what I see through my lens. I love trying to capture a glimpse of the Beauty of God’s Creation.

I still have roses in my garden. These are the first pictures I took with my new camera. The top photo was taken in late afternoon , and the second one was taken the next morning. I look forward to taking many more photos , and sharing some of them with you.

God Bless you all , and don’t forget to stop and smell the roses along your path, and have a wonderful week whatever you do or don’t do.

Sincerely Dianne :)

 

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns,
or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.
-  Abraham Lincoln