Policeman’s Prayer
When I start my tour of duty God,
Wherever crime may be,
as I walk the darkened streets alone,
Let me be close to thee.
Please give me understanding
with both the young and old.
Let me listen with attention
until their story’s told.
Let me never make a judgment
in a rash or callous way,
but let me hold my patience
let each man have his say.
Lord if some dark and dreary night,
I must give my life,
Lord, with your everlasting love
protect my children and my wife.
by Author Unknown
When I start my tour of duty God,
Wherever crime may be,
as I walk the darkened streets alone,
Let me be close to thee.
Please give me understanding
with both the young and old.
Let me listen with attention
until their story’s told.
Let me never make a judgment
in a rash or callous way,
but let me hold my patience
let each man have his say.
Lord if some dark and dreary night,
I must give my life,
Lord, with your everlasting love
protect my children and my wife.
by Author Unknown
The Old Fisherman
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. “Why, he’s hardly taller than my eight-year-old,” I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, “Good evening. I’ve come to see if you’ve a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there’s no bus ’til morning.”
He told me he’d been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. “I guess it’s my face . . . I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . .”
For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: “I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.”
I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. “No thank you. I have plenty.” And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn’t take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.
He didn’t tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children’s room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, “Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won’t put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.” He paused a moment and then added, “Your children made me feel at home.
Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don’t seem to mind.” I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they’d be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. “Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!”
Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness’ would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, “If this were my plant, I’d put it in the loveliest container I had!”
My friend changed my mind. “I ran short of pots,” she explained, “and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn’t mind starting out in this old pail. It’s just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.”
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. “He won’t mind starting in this small body.” All this happened long ago - and now, in God’s garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.
by Mary Bartels
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. “Why, he’s hardly taller than my eight-year-old,” I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, “Good evening. I’ve come to see if you’ve a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there’s no bus ’til morning.”
He told me he’d been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. “I guess it’s my face . . . I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . .”
For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: “I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.”
I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. “No thank you. I have plenty.” And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn’t take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.
He didn’t tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children’s room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, “Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won’t put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.” He paused a moment and then added, “Your children made me feel at home.
Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don’t seem to mind.” I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they’d be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. “Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!”
Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness’ would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, “If this were my plant, I’d put it in the loveliest container I had!”
My friend changed my mind. “I ran short of pots,” she explained, “and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn’t mind starting out in this old pail. It’s just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.”
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. “He won’t mind starting in this small body.” All this happened long ago - and now, in God’s garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.
by Mary Bartels
The Giveaway
Saint Brigid was
A problem child.
Although a lass
Demure and mild,
And one who strove
To please her dad,
Saint Brigid drove
The family mad.
For here’s the fault in Brigid lay:
She would give everything away.
To any soul
Whose luck was out
She’d give her bowl
Of stirabout;
She’d give her shawl,
Divide her purse
With one or all.
And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
She’d borrow from a relative.
Her father’s gold,
Her grandsire’s dinner,
She’d hand to cold
And hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
No matter whose;
Take from her feet
The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
Fetch forth her sister’s and her mother’s.
She could not quit.
She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
The parlor rug,
Her little
Niece’s christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
And then the mattress of her aunt.
An easy touch
For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
And grew so holy
That when she died
Of years and fame,
The countryside
Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
With generous girls named Bride or Brigid.
Well, one must love her.
Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
Givingness,
There’s no denial
She must have been
A sort of trial
Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
Who had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
Saint Brigid? Or her near and dear?
by Phyllis McGinley: “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954)
Note: The subject of the poem is Bridget of Kildare (C.E. 450 - C.E. 523), a Christian lass doing the Lord’s work among the Druids in Ireland.
Phyllis McGinley was born on 21 March 1905 in Ontario, Oregon, United States of America. She became writer of children’s books and a poet. Her works include “Glass Houses” (1946), “A Short Walk from the Station (1951), and “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954). Phyllis McGinley passed on at 72 years of age on 22 February 1978 in New York City, New York, United States of America.
Saint Brigid was
A problem child.
Although a lass
Demure and mild,
And one who strove
To please her dad,
Saint Brigid drove
The family mad.
For here’s the fault in Brigid lay:
She would give everything away.
To any soul
Whose luck was out
She’d give her bowl
Of stirabout;
She’d give her shawl,
Divide her purse
With one or all.
And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
She’d borrow from a relative.
Her father’s gold,
Her grandsire’s dinner,
She’d hand to cold
And hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
No matter whose;
Take from her feet
The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
Fetch forth her sister’s and her mother’s.
She could not quit.
She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
The parlor rug,
Her little
Niece’s christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
And then the mattress of her aunt.
An easy touch
For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
And grew so holy
That when she died
Of years and fame,
The countryside
Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
With generous girls named Bride or Brigid.
Well, one must love her.
Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
Givingness,
There’s no denial
She must have been
A sort of trial
Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
Who had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
Saint Brigid? Or her near and dear?
by Phyllis McGinley: “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954)
Note: The subject of the poem is Bridget of Kildare (C.E. 450 - C.E. 523), a Christian lass doing the Lord’s work among the Druids in Ireland.
Phyllis McGinley was born on 21 March 1905 in Ontario, Oregon, United States of America. She became writer of children’s books and a poet. Her works include “Glass Houses” (1946), “A Short Walk from the Station (1951), and “The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley” (1954). Phyllis McGinley passed on at 72 years of age on 22 February 1978 in New York City, New York, United States of America.
Prayer
Prayer is the dew of faith,
Its raindrop, night and day,
That guards its vital power from death
When cherished hopes decay,
And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
A bright, perennial evergreen.
Good works, of faith the fruit,
Should ripen year by year,
Of health and soundness at the root
And evidence sincere.
Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
And make our faith no barren tree.
by Lydia H. Sigourney
Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney was born on 1 September 1791 in Norwich, Connecticut, United States of America. She ran a school for girls and young ladies, and wrote 59 books of poetry and prose and more than 2,000 articles for periodicals. Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney passed on at 73 years of age on 10 June 1865 in Hartford, Connecticut, United States of America.
Prayer is the dew of faith,
Its raindrop, night and day,
That guards its vital power from death
When cherished hopes decay,
And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
A bright, perennial evergreen.
Good works, of faith the fruit,
Should ripen year by year,
Of health and soundness at the root
And evidence sincere.
Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
And make our faith no barren tree.
by Lydia H. Sigourney
Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney was born on 1 September 1791 in Norwich, Connecticut, United States of America. She ran a school for girls and young ladies, and wrote 59 books of poetry and prose and more than 2,000 articles for periodicals. Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney passed on at 73 years of age on 10 June 1865 in Hartford, Connecticut, United States of America.
Policeman’s Prayer
Lord, I ask for courage, courage to face and conquer my own fears, courage to take me where others will not go. I ask for strength, strength of body to protect others, strength of spirit to lead others. I ask for dedication, dedication to my job to do it well, dedication to my community to keep it safe. Give me, Lord, concern, concern for all those who entrust me, and compassion for those who need me, and please, Lord, through it all, be at my side.
by Author Unknown
Lord, I ask for courage, courage to face and conquer my own fears, courage to take me where others will not go. I ask for strength, strength of body to protect others, strength of spirit to lead others. I ask for dedication, dedication to my job to do it well, dedication to my community to keep it safe. Give me, Lord, concern, concern for all those who entrust me, and compassion for those who need me, and please, Lord, through it all, be at my side.
by Author Unknown
When I Read the Bible Through
I supposed I knew my Bible
Reading piecemeal, hit and miss,
Now a bit of John or Matthew,
Now a snatch of Genesis,
Certain chapters of Isaiah
Certain Psalms (the twenty-third!);
Twelfth of Romans, First of Proverbs -
Yes, I thought I knew the Word!
But I found that thorough reading
Was a different thing to do,
And the way was unfamiliar
When I read the Bible through.
Oh, the massive, mighty volume!
Oh, the treasures manifold!
Oh, the beauty of the wisdom
And the grace it proved to hold!
As the story of the Hebrews
Swept in majesty along,
As it leaped in waves prophetic,
As it burst to sacred song,
As it gleamed with Christly omens,
The Old Testament was new,
Strong with cumulative power,
When I read the Bible through.
Ah! Imperial Jeremiah,
With his keen, coruscant mind;
And the blunt old Nehemiah,
And Ezekiel refined!
Newly came the Minor Prophets
Each with his distinctive robe,
Newly came the Song idyllic,
And the tragedy of Job;
Deuteronomy, the regal,
To a towering mountain grew,
With its comrade peaks around it,
When I read the Bible through.
What a radiant procession
As the pages rise and fall,
James the sturdy, John the tender
O the myriad-minded Paul!
Vast apocalyptic glories
Wheel and thunder, flash and flame,
While the church triumphant raises
One incomparable Name.
Ah, the story of the Saviour
Never glows supremely true
Till you read it whole and swiftly,
Till you read the Bible through.
You who like to play at Bible,
Dip and dabble, here and there,
Just before you kneel, aweary,
And yawn thro’ a hurried prayer;
You who treat the Crown of Writings
As you treat no other book -
Just a paragraph disjointed,
Just a crude, impatient look -
Try a worthier procedure,
Try a broad and steady view;
You will kneel in very rapture
When you read the Bible through!
by Amos R. Wells
Amos Russel Wells was born on 23 December 1862 in Glens Falls, Warren County, New York, United States of America. He became a college professor, an editor, a poet, and a writer. Amos Russel Wells passed on at 70 years of age on 6 March 1933 in Newton, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, United States of America.
I supposed I knew my Bible
Reading piecemeal, hit and miss,
Now a bit of John or Matthew,
Now a snatch of Genesis,
Certain chapters of Isaiah
Certain Psalms (the twenty-third!);
Twelfth of Romans, First of Proverbs -
Yes, I thought I knew the Word!
But I found that thorough reading
Was a different thing to do,
And the way was unfamiliar
When I read the Bible through.
Oh, the massive, mighty volume!
Oh, the treasures manifold!
Oh, the beauty of the wisdom
And the grace it proved to hold!
As the story of the Hebrews
Swept in majesty along,
As it leaped in waves prophetic,
As it burst to sacred song,
As it gleamed with Christly omens,
The Old Testament was new,
Strong with cumulative power,
When I read the Bible through.
Ah! Imperial Jeremiah,
With his keen, coruscant mind;
And the blunt old Nehemiah,
And Ezekiel refined!
Newly came the Minor Prophets
Each with his distinctive robe,
Newly came the Song idyllic,
And the tragedy of Job;
Deuteronomy, the regal,
To a towering mountain grew,
With its comrade peaks around it,
When I read the Bible through.
What a radiant procession
As the pages rise and fall,
James the sturdy, John the tender
O the myriad-minded Paul!
Vast apocalyptic glories
Wheel and thunder, flash and flame,
While the church triumphant raises
One incomparable Name.
Ah, the story of the Saviour
Never glows supremely true
Till you read it whole and swiftly,
Till you read the Bible through.
You who like to play at Bible,
Dip and dabble, here and there,
Just before you kneel, aweary,
And yawn thro’ a hurried prayer;
You who treat the Crown of Writings
As you treat no other book -
Just a paragraph disjointed,
Just a crude, impatient look -
Try a worthier procedure,
Try a broad and steady view;
You will kneel in very rapture
When you read the Bible through!
by Amos R. Wells
Amos Russel Wells was born on 23 December 1862 in Glens Falls, Warren County, New York, United States of America. He became a college professor, an editor, a poet, and a writer. Amos Russel Wells passed on at 70 years of age on 6 March 1933 in Newton, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, United States of America.
Prayer
I know not by what methods rare,
But this I know, God answers prayer.
I know that He has given His Word,
Which tells me prayer is always heard
And will be answered, soon or late.
And so I pray and calmly wait.
I know not if the blessing sought
Will come in just the way I thought;
But leave my prayers with Him alone,
Whose will is wiser than my own,
Assured that He will grant my quest,
Or send some answer far more blest.
by Eliza M. Hickok: as published in James Gilchrist Lawson, editor: “Best Loved Religious Poems” (1933), page 160
Eliza M. Hickok was a minister in the Universalist Unitarian Church, a poet, a hymnist, and the author of the book, “Star Gleams” (1 January 1882).
I know not by what methods rare,
But this I know, God answers prayer.
I know that He has given His Word,
Which tells me prayer is always heard
And will be answered, soon or late.
And so I pray and calmly wait.
I know not if the blessing sought
Will come in just the way I thought;
But leave my prayers with Him alone,
Whose will is wiser than my own,
Assured that He will grant my quest,
Or send some answer far more blest.
by Eliza M. Hickok: as published in James Gilchrist Lawson, editor: “Best Loved Religious Poems” (1933), page 160
Eliza M. Hickok was a minister in the Universalist Unitarian Church, a poet, a hymnist, and the author of the book, “Star Gleams” (1 January 1882).
Everything That You Need
In Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, He is God and Messiah.
In the spirit-filled book of Acts, He is the reigning fire from Heaven.
In Romans, He is the grace of God.
Corinthians, the Power of Love.
Galatians, Freedom from the curse of sin.
Ephesians, our Glorious Treasure.
Philippians, the Servant’s Heart.
Colossians, He is God and the Trinity.
Thessalonians, our calling King.
In Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, He is our mediator and our faithful pastor.
In Hebrews, the Everlasting Courage.
In James, the One who heals the sick.
In 1st and 2nd Peter, our Faithful Shepherd.
In John and Jude, He is the bridegroom coming to his bride.
And in the Revelation, in the very end, when it’s all over, said and done, when time is no more, He is and will always be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, Son of Man, Lamb of God, The Great I Am, Alpha and Omega, God and Savior.
He is Jesus Christ the Lord.
He is everything that you need.
by Author Unknown
In Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, He is God and Messiah.
In the spirit-filled book of Acts, He is the reigning fire from Heaven.
In Romans, He is the grace of God.
Corinthians, the Power of Love.
Galatians, Freedom from the curse of sin.
Ephesians, our Glorious Treasure.
Philippians, the Servant’s Heart.
Colossians, He is God and the Trinity.
Thessalonians, our calling King.
In Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, He is our mediator and our faithful pastor.
In Hebrews, the Everlasting Courage.
In James, the One who heals the sick.
In 1st and 2nd Peter, our Faithful Shepherd.
In John and Jude, He is the bridegroom coming to his bride.
And in the Revelation, in the very end, when it’s all over, said and done, when time is no more, He is and will always be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, Son of Man, Lamb of God, The Great I Am, Alpha and Omega, God and Savior.
He is Jesus Christ the Lord.
He is everything that you need.
by Author Unknown
Cleaning House
Last week I threw out worrying,
It was getting old and in the way.
It kept me from being me;
I couldn’t do things my way.
I threw out those limiting thoughts;
They were just crowding me out.
Made room for my new growth,
Got rid of my “Old Dreams and Doubt.”
I threw out a book on “My Past”
(Didn’t have time to read it anyway.)
Replaced it with “New Goals,”
Started reading it today.
I threw out childhood toys
(Remember how I treasured them so?)
Got me a “New Philosophy,” too,
Threw out the one from long ago.
Brought in some new books too,
Called “I Can,” “I Will,” and “I Must.”
Threw out “I Might,” “I Think,” and “I Ought.”
Wow, you should’ve seen the dust.
I ran across an Old Friend,
Haven’t seen him in a while.
I believe his name is God,
Yes, I really like His style.
He helped me to do some cleaning
And added some things Himself.
Like “Prayer,” “Hope,” and “Faith,”
Yes, I placed them right on the shelf.
I picked up this special thing
And placed it at the front door.
I found it - it’s called “Peace.”
Nothing gets me down anymore.
Yes, I’ve got my house looking nice.
Looks good around the place.
For things like “Worry” and “Trouble,”
There just isn’t any place.
It’s good to do a little house cleaning,
Get rid of the old things on the shelf.
It sure makes things brighter;
Maybe you should “Try It Yourself.”
by Author Unknown
Last week I threw out worrying,
It was getting old and in the way.
It kept me from being me;
I couldn’t do things my way.
I threw out those limiting thoughts;
They were just crowding me out.
Made room for my new growth,
Got rid of my “Old Dreams and Doubt.”
I threw out a book on “My Past”
(Didn’t have time to read it anyway.)
Replaced it with “New Goals,”
Started reading it today.
I threw out childhood toys
(Remember how I treasured them so?)
Got me a “New Philosophy,” too,
Threw out the one from long ago.
Brought in some new books too,
Called “I Can,” “I Will,” and “I Must.”
Threw out “I Might,” “I Think,” and “I Ought.”
Wow, you should’ve seen the dust.
I ran across an Old Friend,
Haven’t seen him in a while.
I believe his name is God,
Yes, I really like His style.
He helped me to do some cleaning
And added some things Himself.
Like “Prayer,” “Hope,” and “Faith,”
Yes, I placed them right on the shelf.
I picked up this special thing
And placed it at the front door.
I found it - it’s called “Peace.”
Nothing gets me down anymore.
Yes, I’ve got my house looking nice.
Looks good around the place.
For things like “Worry” and “Trouble,”
There just isn’t any place.
It’s good to do a little house cleaning,
Get rid of the old things on the shelf.
It sure makes things brighter;
Maybe you should “Try It Yourself.”
by Author Unknown
Dearest Friend,
I have many favorite Bible verses that encourage and inspire me. I hope you do also. No matter what season of the year or of our lives, we can all use some encouragement now and then. I hope these verses will bless you this coming year and always.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” -Joshua, chapter 1, verse 9
“Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the Lord is finished.” -1st Chronicles, chapter 28, verse 20
“With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.” -Psalms, Psalm 18, verse 29
“For He will command His angels concerning you in all your ways.” -Psalms, Psalm 91, verse 11
“Those who renew their hopes in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” -Isiah, chapter 40, verse 31
“Do not let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Jesus . . . My father’s house has many rooms. I (Jesus) will come back and take you to be with Him.” -John, chapter 14, verses 1 through 4
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” And verse 28, “It is good to be near God.” -Psalms, Psalm 73, verse 26
When I feel insufficient and weak I must remember . . . Jesus says to you, My grace is sufficient for you.” -1st Corinthians, chapter 12, verse 9
May you know every day of this year that you are blessed, loved, and new!
Love in Christ,
-Noel (December 2013)
I have many favorite Bible verses that encourage and inspire me. I hope you do also. No matter what season of the year or of our lives, we can all use some encouragement now and then. I hope these verses will bless you this coming year and always.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” -Joshua, chapter 1, verse 9
“Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the Lord is finished.” -1st Chronicles, chapter 28, verse 20
“With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.” -Psalms, Psalm 18, verse 29
“For He will command His angels concerning you in all your ways.” -Psalms, Psalm 91, verse 11
“Those who renew their hopes in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” -Isiah, chapter 40, verse 31
“Do not let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Jesus . . . My father’s house has many rooms. I (Jesus) will come back and take you to be with Him.” -John, chapter 14, verses 1 through 4
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” And verse 28, “It is good to be near God.” -Psalms, Psalm 73, verse 26
When I feel insufficient and weak I must remember . . . Jesus says to you, My grace is sufficient for you.” -1st Corinthians, chapter 12, verse 9
May you know every day of this year that you are blessed, loved, and new!
Love in Christ,
-Noel (December 2013)
