Status Updates From Diary of an Old Soul: 366 W...
Diary of an Old Soul: 366 Writings for Devotional Reflection by
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Emily Stegman
is on page 134 of 184
Another good one from 9/26
I see a little child who's eager hands
search the thick stream that drains the crowded street
For possible things hidden in it's current slow.
Nearby, behind him, a great palace stands,
where Kings might welcome nobles to their feet.
Soft sounds, sweet scents, fair sights there only go -
There the child's father lives, but the child does not know.
— Sep 30, 2026 01:00PM
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I see a little child who's eager hands
search the thick stream that drains the crowded street
For possible things hidden in it's current slow.
Nearby, behind him, a great palace stands,
where Kings might welcome nobles to their feet.
Soft sounds, sweet scents, fair sights there only go -
There the child's father lives, but the child does not know.
Emily Stegman
is finished
Another good one from 9/26
I see a little child who's eager hands
search the thick stream that drains the crowded street
For possible things hidden in it's current slow.
Nearby, behind him, a great palace stands,
where Kings might welcome nobles to their feet.
Soft sounds, sweet scents, fair sights there only go -
There the child's father lives, but the child does not know.
— Sep 30, 2026 01:00PM
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I see a little child who's eager hands
search the thick stream that drains the crowded street
For possible things hidden in it's current slow.
Nearby, behind him, a great palace stands,
where Kings might welcome nobles to their feet.
Soft sounds, sweet scents, fair sights there only go -
There the child's father lives, but the child does not know.
Emily Stegman
is on page 103 of 184
Lord, let my soul o'erburdened then feel thee
Thrilling through all its brain's stupidity.
If I must slumber, heedless of ill harms,
Let it not be but in my Father's arms;
Outside the shelter of his garment's fold,
All is a waste, a terror-haunted wold.—
Lord, keep me. 'Tis thy child that cries. Behold.
— Jul 25, 2026 06:54PM
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Thrilling through all its brain's stupidity.
If I must slumber, heedless of ill harms,
Let it not be but in my Father's arms;
Outside the shelter of his garment's fold,
All is a waste, a terror-haunted wold.—
Lord, keep me. 'Tis thy child that cries. Behold.
Emily Stegman
is on page 98 of 184
July 12 was good!
How suddenly some rapid turn of thought
May throw the life-machine all out of gear,
Clouding the windows with the steam of doubt,
Filling the eyes with dust, with noise the ear!
Who knows not then where dwells the engineer,
Rushes aghast into the pathless night,
And wanders in a land of dreary fright.
— Jul 14, 2026 09:20AM
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How suddenly some rapid turn of thought
May throw the life-machine all out of gear,
Clouding the windows with the steam of doubt,
Filling the eyes with dust, with noise the ear!
Who knows not then where dwells the engineer,
Rushes aghast into the pathless night,
And wanders in a land of dreary fright.
Emily Stegman
is on page 88 of 184
So good!
June 24
Love in the prime not yet I understand—
Scarce know the love that loveth at first hand:
Help me my selfishness to scatter and scout;
Blow on me till my love loves burningly;
Then the great love will burn the mean self out,
And I, in glorious simplicity,
Living by love, shall love unspeakably.
— Jun 25, 2026 12:13PM
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June 24
Love in the prime not yet I understand—
Scarce know the love that loveth at first hand:
Help me my selfishness to scatter and scout;
Blow on me till my love loves burningly;
Then the great love will burn the mean self out,
And I, in glorious simplicity,
Living by love, shall love unspeakably.
