Man’s finest hours – mortal’s best emerge all bruised and torn, quite unaware God’s perfect rest: endeavor, human-born. Yet, other souls, in humble trust wait upon God’s power, to rise blood-bought victorious above the cruelest hour. To never strive (tho’ told we should), our thoughts…
In the shadows of the night where I drew back from the light; in the place where I’d go so my crimes wouldn’t show; in the shame of the sin that I continued in; in the last place on earth with this child of no…
Lord, it’s been quite the journey. So I ask You: is there no end to all the strife and struggle with each and every step at each and every bend? True. You caught me as I stumbled over the worst of cracks and rocks. Yes.
By divine grace it’s our honour to worship at The Cross: we know how God saved thru His Son, with our gain Satan’s loss. No longer can the devil count as his our mind and soul: whenever he appears to us, it’s in a beggar’s…
January snaps, bites and stings. Gloomy February burdens the soul in pain. Praise God! He sends March winds to bend the trees and sweep the earth, and clear the way for April’s springtime rain. May’s sweet breath heralds summer warmth. Gentle June fits easy into…
Carefully I’d preserve my ‘self’ to protect it from life’s pain; I’d shelter it and shield it some from all unpleasant strain. Yet, clearly shown by our dear LORD, Whose Self was sacrificed for all (not Israel alone); self’s ‘death’ is highly priced. Still, I’d…
I am sheltered in His shadow, rescued from raging storm; my haven and seclusion where I transcend human life: reborn. I am sheltered in His shadow, watched over tenderly; He asks nothing for Himself, yet, all that God has, He gives freely. I am sheltered…
In the vastness of blue skies wildly billows the air; through a roof that is missing, we focus our ‘prayer’ on dark menacing clouds. Yet, we can’t help but stare as silver linings - earthbound, find their home in our hair. Blessed are the women…
Somewhere deep inside me I know what I must do. Somewhere deep inside me I would do it too. Yet, deeper…deepest, I am brokenhearted; worn out and oh so weary: every step I take, weighted; every thought I think, dreary. God’s touch I barely feel.
As do songbirds, children come to us for just awhile and we thrill to hear each sweet song; as do rosebuds, little ones need time and more to blossom beautiful and strong. This is why we fear the dark and dreadful days, when our songbirds…