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The Palm Tree Blessing by W. E. Shepard
The Palm Tree Blessing by W. E. Shepard
It is certainly one of the most beautiful trees in nature. That is why so many are used in decorating the premises. People do not plant scrub oaks in their gardens, but they plant nature's beauties.
In the palm tree realm we have a large variety, of different sizes, such as date, fan, and cocoa nut, and in them all it seems that God laid Himself out to make something charming to behold.
When He compared the saint with the palm tree, it signified that there is something in him that is beautiful. One may be counted homely, or disfigured by some mark of nature or accident; but in spite of all he can have God's beauty shining out from his face and life. It matters not how he may be marked with some naturally undesirable feature, in spite of all, the palm tree saint has the effulgence of the upper-world glory, which over tops it all, and there shines forth real, heavenly beauty. So there is hope for all.
That beautiful daughter of King David, and sister to Absalom, who was the finest looking man of his day, was called Tamar, which is the Hebrew word for palm. Doubtless she was called Tamar on account of her beauty. Absalom named his daughter Tamar for this same reason: "And unto Absalom there was born three sons and one daughter, whose name was Tamar: she was a woman of a fair countenance."
Moses was so close to God and heaven during those days on the mount, that his face literally shone. And just in proportion as people today get close to the upper world, will God cover them with His celestial cosmetics. This far surpasses the paint and powder and Circassian cream of a frivolous and fashion-loving world. If people only knew it, the more of these-and of dead birds, rag posies, and glittering gewgaws-they put on, the more unbecoming they appear, and the more any natural beauty they chance to have is covered up. Whenever a woman besmears her face with paint and powder, hoping to cover up what she may think to be unseemly, she might as well carry a placard bearing this inscription:
To whom it may concern: This is to certify that I am homely, and am trying to cover up the fact by the use of paint and powder, thus hoping to deceive the public.
SIGNED-O. C. PRIDE.
"The King's daughter is all glorious within." And because of this it works out, and so, with God's glory upon one, surely there is no need of the world's adornments to supplement God's handiwork. "The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit" is the adorning which all should seek, and all may obtain.
The climax of trinket wearing is to be found in the heathen world. There they deck themselves literally from head to heel. They puncture ears, lips, and nose to find more room for their jewelry. God's arraignment of His people in the third chapter of Isaiah for patterning after the heathen customs is appalling, and we wonder that the translators of the Bible had the ingenuity to ferret out all the different kinds of trumpery in that dead language and find their proper expression in English. When the writer was a boy going to a country school, he was told by the teacher that barbarians wore jewelry, and in proportion as people did the same today they were barbarian. We once stepped into a restaurant in the city of Omaha, and noticed a woman seated at one of the tables. The sight of her hand eclipsed anything we had ever seen. There were rings galore. We do not remember the number on her fingers, but she had so many, it looked as if she had not room enough on her fingers, so she actually had one on her thumb. Doubtless she thought this added to her beauty. We once saw a fortune teller with large rings in her ears, three chains around her neck, seven rings on her fingers and eight bracelets on the wrists.
How different is all this from the beauty which the Holy Spirit gives! We have seen the faces of some saints that verily shone with the brightness of the indwelling Christ within. Sometimes in deathbed scenes God has lifted the curtain just enough to let a little of heaven's halo fall across the features, and how it lighted up the face and made it radiant with a glory which at once was known to be unearthly. God surely knows how to beautify His people.
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Season 1: Esther Davenier has spent her life proving she belongs-first to the elite family who raised her, then to a society that values bloodlines over loyalty. But when a long-lost "real" daughter is found, Esther is discarded like yesterday's scandal-her name erased, her face mocked, her engagement stolen. They thought they could bury her. But Esther doesn't go quietly. Armed with multiple powerful hidden identities and a dangerous new ally-CEO Evander Westvale, the man they said she could never have-Esther steps back into the limelight not to reclaim what was stolen, but to take what was never offered. Now she's more than ready to turn the game upside down. Season 2: When the powerful Davenier family reunites, Victor Davenier moves the Victory Group back to their homeland to spend more time with his daughter-Esther Davenier. Because of this, Roger Davenier, Esther's twin brother, finds himself buried in responsibilities, leaving no time for love-until a beautiful secretary, Alexandra, walks into his life uninvited and slowly pulls him closer. But Alexandra is caught between a protective mother hiding a dark past, a jealous rival determined to humiliate her, and a powerful client who sees her as more than just a secretary. Drawn into a dangerous game of power, desire, and betrayal, she must find her strength to survive. And Roger? He's no longer sure if he's protecting his secretary... or falling hopelessly in love with her.
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
Vivianna's husband married her for her inheritance, and after he took everything she had, he sent her to a gigolo's bed and took pictures. He threatened her to divorce with those pictures and forced her out of her house without a penny. She left her home country in disgrace. Four years later, she returned home as a Chief Jewelry Designer, and had a three-year-old son. Her genius boy told her after he got off the plane, "I'll get the richest man in the world to be my daddy and back you up!" She took it as a joke, yet two days later, her assistant told her that her son was stolen by the most powerful man in the world, and invited her to dinner?! When meeting, that man held her little boy and told her domineeringly, "He called me dad. Hum... not bad."
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