For the rain, for again.
I wonder about here and now and how
And sometimes why.
Thank You for not answering just yet
Teaching me that patience can often
Be the reply to many a prayer whispered
In hope that You do hear.
Thank you for the many shades of men.
This one colour is made all the more vivid
By their brilliant reflection of Your
Goodness and grace.
Thank you for desire and want
For in them we learn to come to Your table
And eat of Your bounty and drink
from Your cup that never runs dry.
Thank You for turning a blind eye
While shielding me with Your strong arm,
And for binding tears and burns inflicted
By me and mine.
Thank You for endings and half-ways
Because though some see a thing gone
You put in my heart a traveler’s song
That says “the road is a journey’s home”
P.S: without You, I am empty space in a hidden place.
In these days of talk of recession, debt, surge in commodity prices, there is someone that can ensure that our wealth isn’t eaten by moths. I Stumbled upon this revised version of our favorite psalm and revised it a bit more. Read and prosper.
The Lord is my banker; my credit is good.
He maketh me to lie down in the consciousness of omnipresent abundance;
He giveth me the key to his strongbox.
He restoreth my faith in His riches;
He guideth me in the path of prosperity for His name’s sake
Yea, though I walk through rumors of National debt,
I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me;
Thy ideas of life, they secure me.
Thou preparest a way for me in the presence of the collector;
Thou fillest my wallet with plenty; my measure runneth over.
Surely, goodness and plenty will follow me all the days of my life,
And I shall do business in the name of the Lord forever.
God of all the earth
And the worlds that are to come,
Keeper of the fire in this hearth
Quencher of the sun.
You, the maker of heaven and earth,
You, the taker of heaven and earth
When all we hold dear is nowhere to be seen.
Then to you i go to glean meaning from the
Fields of leftovers and dried out flowers.
A lot of the times I do not understand you,
Open my eyes O Lord that I may see your heart
And have one thing with which to parry the taunts
And quiet the haunts of this old heart.
You are my mother tongue
and my father’s song when he dressed for war.
You are the reach of my hands
And the crowd in the stands when I am alone
Before your throne nothing can be named
Save for your name again, again.