I've come to realize that I can't always be inspired to write things here myself. Today I've had two gems come my way that I've just loved. The first is the third verse of the hymn "The Love of God" by Frederick M. Lehman. We sang it in church this morning and the visual imagery in the lyrics spoke deeply to me:

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

And I'm currently researching Martin Luther for an essay. The man had a way with words, as these samples show:

God creates out of nothing. Therefore, until a man is nothing, God can make nothing out of him.

The truth is mightier than eloquence, the Spirit greater than genius, faith more than education.

Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, aye, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all.

If our Lord is permitted to create nice large pike and good Rhine wine, presumably I may be allowed to eat and drink.