F W Boreham was an essayist, author and preacher who lived between 1871 and 1959.
He was frequently introduced this way: “His name is on all our lips, his books are on all our shelves and his illustrations are in all our sermons.”
He was frequently introduced this way: “His name is on all our lips, his books are on all our shelves and his illustrations are in all our sermons.”
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Boreham often pleaded to his readers and hearers to aspire to full individual expression. Such a tendency could easily result in self-centredness, however, a balancing strand in the development of this theme by Boreham was the importance of attuning oneself to the crowd...
Eloquent Stones In 1924, Frank Boreham wrote an editorial entitled ‘Crumbling stones’, in which he considered the stones that were part of an architect’s design in an old building. In ...
Geoff Leslie is a pastor of a church on the border of Victoria and New South Wales in Australia. He writes a weekly column for The Barham Bridge newspaper and this week he takes an essay of Boreham's, shortens it, and substitutes his own stories...
Retaining the Nuggets F W Boreham’s repeatedly made the plea to his Australian readers to celebrate their national achievements as a sign of their country’s growth in nationhood. ...
Aussie Soil In his early years Boreham expressed his abhorrence at the thought of dying in Australia and being buried away from British soil. However his gradual love affair with the great brown continent led him to rescind his earlier statement...
In the year 1547, Gonzalo Pizarro found himself confronted by fearful alternatives. He had led the great rebellion in Peru. One can picture him sitting in a tent with two friends. One is the young Cepeda, the other the aged Carbajal. Before them lies a paper. It is an offer of Royal pardon...
My whole earthly fortune, my entire bag and baggage, my complete stock-in-trade, may consist of this tiny drop of ink that now trembles at the point of my pen, and of this sheet of white paper that lies spread out before me as I write. But that matters little...
Mark Twain, in one of his frolics, tells how he and his companions toiled all night up the slopes of one of the mountains of Switzerland in order to see the sunrise from the summit. That gorgeous spectacle was numbered among the wonders of the world...
