Good Writing, at Last!
James J. Cassidy
October 9, 2012
By the time they stopped that night, the rain had abated somewhat. But it did not cease. Likewise, the sun never properly set. Robbed of its glory by the day’s
By the time they stopped that night, the rain had abated somewhat. But it did not cease. Likewise, the sun never properly set. Robbed of its glory by the day’s
In 1739, at the brink of the Great Awakening in Northampton, Jonathan Edwards preached a sermon in which he challenged his congregation with regard to their own commitment to a careful and
By the time they stopped that night, the rain had abated somewhat. But it did not cease. Likewise, the sun never properly set. Robbed of its glory by the day’s
In 1739, at the brink of the Great Awakening in Northampton, Jonathan Edwards preached a sermon in which he challenged his congregation with regard to their own commitment to a careful and
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Miracle of Spring A strange thing has taken place
A labor overnight—
That by the thousands apace
New births brought forth to light.
Till now my yard was winter,
The wind turns south, I wing
Back
Summer1
By Geerhardus Vos Translated by Daniel Ragusa
Though thousands of signs do brim
That he the land has graced,
How shall I ever find him?
Where do his
Autumn1 By Geerhardus Vos Translated by Daniel Ragusa Still lingers golden autumn, still stand harvest colors,
Ripening in field, still roams through woods and gardens
A lovely postlude
I had the privilege of participating in a panel discussion on Danny Olinger’s excellent biography of Geerhardus Vos at the Presbyterian Scholars Conference, held at Harbor House, Wheaton College, on