One Summer Morning 

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  • **With the turning of the summer solstice, we turn our hearts to summer here at the Foundation. This summer, we wish to journey together and set ourselves apart, seeking how the Lord would want to use this special season in our lives for rest, refreshment, and recreation in Him and with our families and friends.  Perhaps we could think of it as a Summer Sabbath.  Through these weekly devotionals, we will bring you to the coast of Magnolia, Massachusetts where Elisabeth and Lars spent so many memorable days, and we will make ourselves at home in Franconia, New Hampshire where Elisabeth delighted in her beloved family summer home, Gale Cottage.  We look forward to a beautiful and blessed Christ-centered summer together, and we begin together in Magnolia. . .

    It was very early. The sun had not risen, and the sea was palest mauve and silver. There was a solitary sailboat with one very tall, slim sail that looked like a shining spear. All was calm, and the little waves curled their white fringes slowly around the black rocks. One lone fisherman stood in his accustomed place near the edge of a great slab of granite. It is our usual habit to rise around five o’clock, and we can count on him to be there every summer morning, waiting, quietly waiting for that big striper that may win the prize offered by the city of Gloucester each year. Occasionally my quiet time is on the balcony and I am moved by a stanza of John Ellerton’s hymn, “The Day Thou Gavest”—“As on each continent and island the dawn brings on another day, the voice of prayer is never silent, nor die the strains of praise away.” Isn’t it a lovely thought that at every moment of every night and day someone is praying? And the prayers of all the saints, we are told in Revelation, ascend to God like incense. Imagine! An angel with a golden censer stands at the altar and the smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, goes up before God from the angel’s hand.

    Lord Jesus, Intercessor, O teach us how to pray: 
    Not wave-like, rising, falling, in fitful clouds of spray. 
    The mighty tides of ocean a deeper secret know, 
    Their currents undefeated move whatever winds may blow. 

    Lord Jesus, Intercessor, Creator of the sea, 
    Teach us the tide’s great secret of quiet urgency. 
    Spindrift of words we ask not. But, Lord, we seek to know 
    The conquering patience of the tides whatever winds may blow.

    Amy Carmichael

    **Excerpt originally published in the July/Aug 1998 Elisabeth Elliot Newsletter.