The Maker of the Universe
His holy fingers made the bough
which grew the thorns that crowned His brow.
The nails that pierced His hands were mined
in secret places He designed.
His holy fingers made the bough
which grew the thorns that crowned His brow.
The nails that pierced His hands were mined
in secret places He designed.
Lord, our troubles
Are so great,
We don’t know what to do;
The price for our
Iniquity
Is finally coming due.
The Source of my delight;
The Song to cheer the night;
The Thought that fills my mind;
The Best of All to find—is Jesus!
Now at the cross
was greater loss
with torture and with pain.
From crown of thorn
to nails and scorn,
would someone please explain?
Teach me, Father, how to go
Softly as the grasses grow…
…Place where passing souls can rest
On the way and be their best.
“M” is for the million things she gave me…
Contributed by Abby from Fan the Flame. “…The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” Proverbs 4:18 You are beckoning Beyond the noise and sheer commotion of freedom to pick a million useful things. You are calling into the weariness that seeks a physical answer believing it will come. You are singing A clear and radiant song so beautiful and ancient…first song speaking into existence. And I come Smooth, cool sand squishing between my toes Anticipation of a promise that began with the first light. I wait Clouds covering first bright glimmer Excitement growing for what will surely become. My soul sings At first just specks of brilliant red and orange hues Alive, young and powerful they grow stronger. My heart rejoices A force so unrelenting pushes forth Past grayness of night and first affront of cloudy cover. My life is renewed As rays break through to combat the shadows of the night A light whose hands raise high in worship You are true …
A-lthough things are not perfect
B-ecause of trial or pain
C-ontinue in thanksgiving
D-o not begin to blame