Comments about Rev. Joseph Mohr

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WashTimesOpEd: In 1816, near the starving and ruined city of Salzburg, Austria, a 24-year-old priest, the Rev. Joseph Mohr, suffered -- as did his flock -- through the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars.

Karenlynnthomas: Cool story behind Silent Night. My fav Christmas song hands down. Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words in 1816 as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg.

JudsonIStone: Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the lyrics of Silent Night in 1818. Franz Gruber composed the tune for the Christmas Eve premier. Silent night, holy night Son of God, oh, love's pure light Radiant beams from Thy holy face With the dawn of redeeming grace Jesus, Lord at Thy birth

greatplainsumc: Imagine the joy of receiving the unabashed, warm, welcoming embrace of a child. The Rev. Robbie Fall thinks about Jesus' words in Matthew 19:14 in today's devotion:

mgqv320: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

Ieronimus2: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

StanleyRoush: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

americaliterary: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to "Silent Night" as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzb...

mattos3806: Earliest surviving manuscript of "Silent Night," from 1816, in the handwriting of the Rev. Joseph Mohr. (photo: Sal...

scotpaul: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

gmvickery1: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

ROSECORNETT6: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....



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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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