I take a baths all the time. I'll put on some music and burn some incense and just sit in the tub and think, Wow, life is great right now.
I take a baths all the time. I'll put on some music and burn some incense and just sit in the tub and think, Wow, life is great right now.
Better do a good deed near at home than go far away to burn incense.
Oh Jesus, they have built these churches for the sake of their own glory, and embellished them with silk and melted gold.... They left the bodies of Thy chosen poor wrapped in tattered raiment in the cold night.... They filled the sky with the smoke of burning candles and incense and left the bodies of Thy faithful worshipers empty of bread.... They raised their voices with hymns of praise, but deafened themselves to the cry and moan of the widows and orphans. Come again, Oh Living Jesus, and drive the vendors of Thy faith from Thy sacred temple, for they have turned it into a dark cave where vipers of hypocrisy and falsehood crawl and abound.
The Holy Night We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horned faces To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonied hearing rung The strange sweet angel-tongue The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and gold These baby hands were impotent to hold So let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One.
So will I build my altar in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields Shall be the incense I will yield to thee.
Love - which is God - will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and He will reward us with fortitude.
The morn is up again, the dewy morn, with breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And glowing into day.
The wisdom, the incense, the brightness!
Christmas in Bethlehem. The ancient dream: a cold, clear night made brilliant by a glorious star, the smell of incense, shepherds and wise men falling to their knees in adoration of the sweet baby, the incarnation of perfect love.
From every place below the skies The grateful song, the fervent prayer, The incense of the heart, may rise To heaven, and find acceptance there.
No ashes are lighter than those of incense, and few things burn out sooner.
... the fools of this world prefer to look for sages far away. They don't believe that the wisdom of their own mind is the sage ... the sutras say, 'Mind is the teaching.' But people of no understanding don't believe in their own mind or that by understanding this teaching they can become a sage. They prefer to look for distant knowledge and long for things in space, buddha-images, light, incense, and colors. They fall prey to falsehood and lose their minds to insanity.
Not on morality, but on cookery, let us build our stronghold there brandishing our frying-pan, as censer, let us offer sweet incense to the Devil, and live at ease on the fat things he has provided for his elect.
The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine.
You might sooner get lightning out of incense smoke than true action or passion out of your modern English religion.
I give to thee great gardens, with trees and vines in the temple of Atuma, I give to thee lands with olive trees in the city of On. I have furnished them with gardeners, and many men to make ready oil of Egypt for kindling the lamps of thy noble temple. I give to thee trees and wood, date palms, incense, and lotus, rushes, grasses, and flowers of every land, to set before thy fair face.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories