Verses For Strength Quotes

A daily dose of daydreaming heals the heart, soothes the soul, and strengthens the imagination.

Having solved all the major mathematical, physical, chemical, biological, sociological, philosophical, etymological, meteorological and psychological problems of the Universe except for his own, three times over, [Marvin] was severely stuck for something to do, and had taken up composing short dolorous ditties of no tone, or indeed tune. The latest one was a lullaby. Marvin droned, Now the world has gone to bed, Darkness won't engulf my head, I can see in infrared, How I hate the night. He paused to gather the artistic and emotional strength to tackle the next verse. Now I lay me down to sleep, Try to count electric sheep, Sweet dream wishes you can keep, How I hate the night.

Come, sir, come, I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love. Look, here I have you, thus I let you go, And give you to the gods.

Life has moments that feel as if the sun has blackened to tar and the entire world turned to ice.  It feels as if Hades and his vile demons have risen from the depths of Tartarus solely for the purpose of banding to personally torture you, and that their genuine intent of mental, emotional, and spiritual anguish is tearing you to shreds.  Your heart weighs as heavily as leaden legs which you would drag yourself forward with if not for the quicksand that pulls you down inch by inch, paralyzing your will and threatening oblivion.  And all the while fire and brimstone pour from the sky, pelting only you.   Truly, that is what it feels like. But that feeling is a trial that won't last forever.  Never give up.

Outside, the natural world was enjoying a moment of total strength.

You invented me. There is no such earthly being, Such an earthly being there could never be. A doctor cannot cure, a poet cannot comfort— A shadowy apparition haunts you night and day. We met in an unbelievable year, When the world's strength was at an ebb, Everything withered by adversity, And only the graves were fresh. Without streetlights, the Neva's waves were black as pitch, Thick night enclosed me like a wall ... That's when my voice called out to you! Why it did—I still don't understand. And you came to me, as if guided by a star That tragic autumn, stepping Into that irrevocably ruined house, From whence had flown a flock of burnt verse.

Love—such a keen mystery prone to pierce and shatter the delicate heart.  Yet it possesses more strength, power, and influence than any other magic known to man. 

I am a work in progress Dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding Offering me intricate patterns of questions Rhythms that never come clean And strengths that you still haven't seen

People love superheroes.  It's true we're  impressed by their bravery and fortitude, their supernatural gifts and physical brawn.  But the fact is, villains possess these same qualities.  So why our admiration for the hero and not the nemesis?  Because of virtue.   A superhero gives everything to defend what's good and right without seeking praise or reward.  Think about it.  All the great heroes give without taking, help without grumbling, sacrifice without asking recompense.  A superhero's real strength, what we absolutely fall in love with, is his finer virtue.

There is strength in numbers, yes, but even more so in collective good will. For those endeavors are supported by mighty forces unseen.

Of what is lost, irretrievably lost, all I wish to recover is the daily availability of my writing, lines capable of grasping me by the hair and lifting me up when I'm at the end of my strength. (Significant, said the foreigner.) Odes to the human and the divine. Let my writing be like the verses of by Leopardi that Daniel Biga recited on a Nordic bridge to gird himself with courage.

You cannot be open to fully feel love And all its beauty Until you can be open to fully feel pain In all its sorrow In the strength of my heart I saw the fragility of yours

This is life. Learning to love through loss. Seeking warm pockets in the bitter cold. Finding the worth of a smile on a cloudy day. Carrying the weight of the world on weary shoulders—mistakes, sins, injustices—added upon daily. Enduring burdens that spur greater strength. This is life. Sorting through layers of expressions staring you straight in the eye. A battle to be right when wrong, to be good when bad, to be content when in need, and to laugh when tearing up. This is life. Valuing things of no worth. Reevaluating dreams. Laboring ceaselessly against the current. Seeing less, wanting more, having enough. This is life. Chasing the moon when the sun would extend its warmth. Slapping the hand that would offer a gentle caress. Cowering at personal, monstrous shadows. Giving and taking in unbalanced weights. Diminishing the majesty of mountains in order to form our own lowly hills. Hoping for more than we deserve. This is life. Hurting. Despairing. Losing. Weeping. Suffering. Laboring. Sinking. Mourning. Appreciating with greater capacity and sincerity a learned knowledge that these adversities do have their opposites. This is life. A taste. A revelation. A banishment. A mercy. A test. An experience. A turbulent sea-voyage that shall assuredly reach the unseen shore, making seasoned sailors of us all. This is life.

PRO24.10 If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small.

Feeling Dante’s silent presence there emboldened the strength inside her. He had always done that, since the day beside her hospital bed to this precise moment when he was pissed at her – he made her stronger, made her feel safer, made her feel supported. He was one of the biggest reasons she was as sane as she was, that she had held onto life through the worst of her trauma, that she had healed. He called her his lighthouse but he had always been hers, standing tall through the worst of the stormy nights, lighting up the dark, letting her know that shore was close

Already the people murmur that I am your enemy because they say that in verse I give the world your me. They lie, Julia de Burgos. They lie, Julia de Burgos. Who rises in my verses is not your voice. It is my voice because you are the dressing and the essence is me; and the most profound abyss is spread between us. You are the cold doll of social lies, and me, the virile starburst of the human truth. You, honey of courtesan hypocrisies; not me; in all my poems I undress my heart. You are like your world, selfish; not me who gambles everything betting on what I am. You are only the ponderous lady very lady; not me; I am life, strength, woman. You belong to your husband, your master; not me; I belong to nobody, or all, because to all, to all I give myself in my clean feeling and in my thought. You curl your hair and paint yourself; not me; the wind curls my hair, the sun paints me. You are a housewife, resigned, submissive, tied to the prejudices of men; not me; unbridled, I am a runaway Rocinante snorting horizons of God's justice. You in yourself have no say; everyone governs you; your husband, your parents, your family, the priest, the dressmaker, the theatre, the dance hall, the auto, the fine furnishings, the feast, champagne, heaven and hell, and the social, "what will they say." Not in me, in me only my heart governs, only my thought; who governs in me is me. You, flower of aristocracy; and me, flower of the people. You in you have everything and you owe it to everyone, while me, my nothing I owe to nobody. You nailed to the static ancestral dividend, and me, a one in the numerical social divider, we are the duel to death who fatally approaches. When the multitudes run rioting leaving behind ashes of burned injustices, and with the torch of the seven virtues, the multitudes run after the seven sins, against you and against everything unjust and inhuman, I will be in their midst with the torch in my hand.

Faith helps you to over come all the troubles, If you faith, troubles will blow out like bubbles. So let faith become your strength, As faith will help you to walk the length.

God give me patience to reconcile with what I am not able to change. Give me strength to change what I can. And give me wisdom to distinguish one from another.

OH! why those narrow rules extol? These but restrain from ill, True virtue lies in strength of soul And energy of will.

Best not to take, yet doubt its strength, A leash with Demons at its length.

ISA40.29 He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

PSA18.32 It is God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect.

PSA46.1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

PSA19.14 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.

Philippians 4:13: I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing Alive enough to have strength to die;

I've tried to keep pleasant," Mabel went on. "You don't know how I've tried. I have that verse pinned up on my dresser, about The man worth while is the man who can smile, When everything goes dead wrong." "Take it down," Mother said cheerfully. "If there's a verse in the world that has been worked overtime, it's that one. I can't think of anything more inane than to smile when everything goes dead wrong, unless it is to cry when everything is passably right. That verse always seemed to me to be a surface sort of affair. Take it down and substitute 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.' That goes to the heart of things--when you feel that strength, then the dead-wrong things begin to miraculously right themselves.

Sonnet: Political Greatness Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame, Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts, Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame; Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts, History is but the shadow of their shame, Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts As to oblivion their blind millions fleet, Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit By force or custom? Man who man would be, Must rule the empire of himself; in it Must be supreme, establishing his throne On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.

Кто уцелел — умрёт, кто мёртв — воспрянет. И вот потомки, вспомнив старину: — Где были вы? — Вопрос как громом грянет, Ответ как громом грянет: — На Дону! — Что делали? — Да принимали муки, Потом устали и легли на сон. И в словаре задумчивые внуки За словом: «долг» напишут слово: «Дон». 30 марта 1918 Those spared - will die, those fallen - rise from under. Then come the sons, remembering days far gone: - And where were you? - the words will roll like thunder, The answer roll like thunder: - On the Don! - What did you do? - We bore with grief and cruelty, Then laid us down to sleep, our last strength gone. And in the dictionary, over Duty, The grandsons, looking back, will write: the Don.

You're not pushing but I'm falling you're soaring and I'm stalling and it's not a secret that my strength is your weakness   the beauty you have inside shines out through your eyes you wear your heart on your sleeve your wings flutter and you leave   and when you fly can I be your blue sky when your heart beats alone let my arms be your home if I say it first will you say it second if I give you this verse will you feel protected   I need you could you need me too...” He

PSA27.1 The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?  PSA27.2 When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.

His unstoppable curiosity triumphed, and Leonardo went into the cave. There he discovered, embedded in the wall, a fossil whale. “Oh mighty and once-living instrument of nature,” he wrote, “your vast strength was to no avail.”26 Some scholars have assumed that he was describing a fantasy hike or riffing on some verses by Seneca. But his notebook page and those surrounding it are filled with descriptions of layers of fossil shells, and many fossilized whale bones have in fact been discovered in Tuscany.27 The whale fossil triggered

And the truth is I am not strong enough to tread water in the salty abyss as I watch the ship sail away. I am weak-hearted. I can't hold my breath for long. I don't know how to stay afloat while searching for shallower waters. I only know how to hope that my drowning will be quick.

That isn’t what God is for, but there are times when that’s what prayer is for. And there are times when that’s what these verses are for. God is Change, and in the end, God prevails. But there’s hope in understanding the nature of God—not punishing or jealous, but infinitely malleable. There’s comfort in realizing that everyone and everything yields to God. There’s power in knowing that God can be focused, diverted, shaped by anyone at all. But there’s no power in having strength and brains, and yet waiting for God to fix things for you or take revenge for you.

It is unhealthy to try to be Superman, standing with solitary strength facing our battles alone. We all need help. We need friends. We need advice. We need support and assistance. We need hugs, smiles, love, and encouragement. We are human, and that is how humans thrive—by working together.

Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight … touch the mountains and they shall smoke … He had memorized that verse years before, Psalm 144, knew somehow, strangely, that it was for him, that God had put those words there as a sign, words to guide him to his duty.

PSA46.1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. PSA46.2 Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;  PSA46.3 Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.

During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching oven me so long. Ya Allah show me some sign, some small mark of your favour, that I may find in myself the strength to cure my ills. O God most beneficent most merciful, be with me in this my time of need, my most grievous need. Then it occurred to him that he was being punished, and for a time that made it possible to suffer the pain, but after a time he got angry. Enough, God, his unspoken words demanded, why must I die when I have not killed, are you vengeance or are you love? The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded, and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to _thin air_, that there was nobody there at all, and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life, and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be. But he felt nothing, nothing nothing, and then one day he found that he no longer needed there to be anything to feel. On that day of metamorphosis the illness changed and his recovery began. And to prove to himself the non-existence of God, he now stood in the dining-hall of the city's most famous hotel, with pigs falling out of his face.

ACT9.21 But all that heard him were amazed, and said; Is not this he that destroyed them which called on this name in Jerusalem, and came hither for that intent, that he might bring them bound unto the chief priests?  ACT9.22 But Saul increased the more in strength, and confounded the Jews which dwelt at Damascus, proving that this is very Christ.

Survive, because of the fire that burns within It sits inside you and melts through pain And lights the shadows with embers of love Survive because your heart makes you great It beats the rhythm to your bones And sings lullabies to your soul Survive because your strength lies in all you overcome It shakes you to lift you and take you bravely home

What the songs do,’ Shirley confides, ‘is take me into that world [of the past]; they take you back centuries. In a twelve-verse song, you can be transported, and I think that’s such a strength in a song, that it can take you on a journey. Sometimes you don’t even know what sort of journey you’ve gone on, because a lot of the meanings have eroded over the years, and you just get glimpses of lives. Not through the words of a great playwright or poet or author, but just through the minds and mirrors of ordinary people. I think one of the reasons the country’s in such trouble is that nobody’s connected to it, to their ancestors or what’s gone before. And if other people’s lives aren’t important, I don’t know how your own can be.

[From Sid Vicious's letter to Nancy Spungen's mother Deborah] P.S. Thank you, Debbie, for understanding that I have to die. Everyone else just thinks that I'm being weak. All I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say you must have really loved her.' So they think that I don't still love her? At least when I die, we will be together again. I feel like a lost child, so alone. The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn't have nightmares and I just can't sleep without my my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me. My heart. Debbie, please come and see me. You are the only person who knows what I am going through. If you don’t want to, could you please phone me again, and write. I love you. I was staggered by Sid's letter. The depth of his emotion, his sensitivity and intelligence were far greater than I could have imagined. Here he was, her accused murderer, and he was reaching out to me, professing his love for me. His anguish was my anguish. He was feeling my loss, my pain - so much so that he was evidently contemplating suicide. He felt that I would understand that. Why had he said that? I fought my sympathetic reaction to his letter. I could not respond to it, could not be drawn into his life. He had told the police he had murdered my daughter. Maybe he had loved her. Maybe she had loved him. I couldn't become involved with him. I was in too much pain. I couldn't share his pain. I hadn't enough strength. I began to stuff the letter back in its envelope when I came upon a separate sheet of paper. I unfolded it. It was the poem he'd written about Nancy. NANCY You were my little baby girl And I shared all your fears. Such joy to hold you in my arms And kiss away your tears. But now you’re gone there’s only pain And nothing I can do. And I don’t want to live this life If I can’t live for you. To my beautiful baby girl. Our love will never die. I felt my throat tighten. My eyes burned, and I began to weep on the inside. I was so confused. Here, in a few verses, were the last twenty years of my life. I could have written that poem. The feelings, the pain, were mine. But I hadn't written it. Sid Vicious had written it, the punk monster, the man who had told the police he was 'a dog, a dirty dog.' The man I feared. The man I should have hated, but somehow couldn't.

These (Shakespeare, Milton, and Victor Hugo) not only knit and knot the logical texture of the style with all the dexterity and strength of prose; they not only fill up the pattern of the verse with infinite variety and sober wit; but they give us, besides, a rare and special pleasure, by the art, comparable to that of counterpoint, with which they follow at the same time, and now contrast, and now combine, the double pattern of the texture and the verse.  Here the sounding line concludes; a little further on, the well-knit sentence; and yet a little further, and both will reach their solution on the same ringing syllable.  The best that can be offered by the best writer of prose is to show us the development of the idea and the stylistic pattern proceed hand in hand, sometimes by an obvious and triumphant effort, sometimes with a great air of ease and nature.  The writer of verse, by virtue of conquering another difficulty, delights us with a new series of triumphs.  He follows three purposes where his rival followed only two; and the change is of precisely the same nature as that from melody to harmony. -ON SOME TECHNICAL ELEMENTS OF STYLE IN LITERATURE

God I am a sinner.  I have done so many wrongs, in my life.  I have wronged many people, unaware. I have hurt so many people, it wasn’t my intention.  I have made so many mistakes , without thinking. I am no saint, and I am not perfect. I have fallen into temptation many times. Father forgive me. Take away the pain, I have caused to others. Give me the pure heart to love and forgive everyone and may your love be found in me. Please help me with the sins, that I am battling to overcome. Give me strength to fight my demons and dark pleasures. Guide me to path of righteousness. Let me not be judgmental towards others. Let me not curse or speak foul of anyone. There is no person who should shed a tear, because of me. There is no person who should be heart broken , because of me. In Jesus name Amen.  Matthew 26:41 | 1 John 5:16 | 2 Chronicles 7:14-15

Tough times are kept for the most angelic souls Pushed to their greatness by a universe That loves them with a fiery rush of love Through the essence of God in showers of the divine Something that can never be extinguished Broken or untied Star-lit souls with tenacious hearts The ones that blossom while healing their scars Tough times there are But fade they will And you will go on To rise more wonderfully than ever before

Then one night, he came to me in a dream, Sasha: Mayakovsky himself. He quoted some lines of verse—beautiful, haunting lines that I had never heard before—about the bark of a birch tree glinting in the winter sun. Then he loaded his revolver with an exclamation point and put the barrel to his chest. When I awoke, I suddenly understood that this propensity for self-destruction was not an abomination, not something to be ashamed of or abhorred; it was our greatest strength. We turn the gun on ourselves not because we are more indifferent and less cultured than the British, or the French, or the Italians. On the contrary. We are prepared to destroy that which we have created because we believe more than any of them in the power of the picture, thepoem, the prayer, or the person.” Mishka shook his head. “Mark my words, my friend: We have not burned Moscow to the ground for the last time.

A gentle, quiet young man who might sit languid at her feet and read his verses to her or who might paint or draw her portrait. He would hold her hand and whisper how beautiful she was, how precious to him. Of course you mustn't play the pianoforte, he would say. Only silly females who have no higher accomplishments squander their strength on such an empty pastime. Dancing? No, that is far too fatiguing. May I sit beside you and fan you while you read?

Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me: for the one, I have neither words nor measure, and for the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken. I should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee that I shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places: for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.

The first verse was a celebration of night--a ballad of dancing shadows and creeping mist and all the tiny, soothing shifts that let the world slip into restful slumber. But as the lyrics carried on, they curved to an ode to darkness itself. A reminder that there was purpose and power, even in the blackest places. Even to the shadows within herself. The anger. And doubts. And sadness. The memories that were too painful to replay. All rang with vulnerability and strength. And with each new beat--each new pulse--the monster changed shape. Until it wasn't a monster at all.

Those who, from the start, are the unfortunate, the downtrodden, the broken – these are the ones, the weakest, who most undermine life amongst men, who introduce the deadliest poison and scepticism into our trust in life, in man, in ourselves. Where can we escape the surreptitious glance imparting a deep sadness, the backward glance of the born misfit revealing how such a man communes with himself, – that glance which is a sigh. ‘If only I were some other person!’ is what this glance sighs: ‘but there’s no hope of that. I am who I am: how could I get away from myself ? And oh – I’m fed up with myself!’ . . . In such a soil of self-contempt, such a veritable swamp, every kind of weed and poisonous plant grows, all of them so small, hidden, dissembling and sugary. Here, the worms of revenge and rancour teem all round; here, the air stinks of things unrevealed and unconfessed; here, the web of the most wicked conspiracy is continually being spun, – the conspiracy of those who suffer against those who are successful and victorious, here, the sight of the victorious man is hated. And what mendacity to avoid admitting this hatred as hatred! What expenditure of big words and gestures, what an art of ‘righteous’ slander! These failures: what noble eloquence flows from their lips! How much sugared, slimy, humble humility swims in their eyes! What do they really want? At any rate, to represent justice, love, wisdom, superiority, that is the ambition of these who are ‘the lowest’, these sick people! And how skilful such an ambition makes them! In particular, we have to admire the counterfeiter’s skill with which the stamp of virtue, the ding-a-ling golden ring of virtue is now imitated. They have taken out a lease on virtue to keep it just for themselves, these weak and incurably sick people, there is no doubt about it: ‘Only we are good and just’ is what they say, ‘only we are the homines bonæ voluntatis’. They promenade in our midst like living reproaches, like warnings to us, – as though health, success, strength, pride and the feeling of power were in themselves depravities for which penance, bitter penance will one day be exacted: oh, how ready they themselves are, in the last resort, to make others penitent, how they thirst to be hangmen! Amongst them we find plenty of vengeance-seekers disguised as judges, with the word justice continually in their mouth like poisonous spittle, pursing their lips and always at the ready to spit at anybody who does not look discontented and who cheerfully goes his own way. Among their number there is no lack of that most disgusting type of dandy, the lying freaks who want to impersonate ‘beautiful souls’ and put their wrecked sensuality on the market, swaddled in verses and other nappies, as ‘purity of the heart’: the type of moral onanists and ‘self-gratifiers.’ The will of the sick to appear superior in any way, their instinct for secret paths, which lead to tyranny over the healthy, – where can it not be found, this will to power of precisely the weakest!

Ode to the West Wind I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear! II Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky’s commotion, Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine aëry surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith’s height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear! III Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull’d by the coil of his crystàlline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae’s bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave’s intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear! IV If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seem’d a vision; I would ne’er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chain’d and bow’d One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. V Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like wither’d leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Every time Leon had to tell her everything that he had done since their last meeting. She asked him for some verses - some verses for herself, a "love poem" in honour of her. But he never succeeded in getting a rhyme for the second verse; and at last ended by copying for her a sonnet in a "Keepsake". This was less from vanity than from the one desire of pleasing her. He did not question her ideas; he accepted all her tastes; he was rather becoming her mistress than she his. She had tender words and kisses that thrilled his soul. Where could she have learned this corruption almost incorporeal in the strength of its profundity and dissimulation?

In 40:31 he says to wait for God because God will renew their strength as they wait for Him. The word wait is the Hebrew word qavah, which means 'to bind together, to be joined, to meet, to expect, to be confident, trust, endure.' If we read this verse with all those definitions included, it would say, 'Those who are bound together with the Lord, joined with the Lord, who meet with the Lord, who confidently expect and trust and endure... will renew their strength.' The image here is more than just an expression of time; it's an expression of unity. It's about relationship--knowing Him, trusting His character. When we live in that space, He strengthens us for whatever we're enduring.

The word translated “favor” in Genesis 6:8 is the Hebrew hen, which also means “grace.” With that in mind, there are two ways that this pivotal moment of the biblical narrative could be taken. The first is that Noah, because he was righteous and blameless in his own strength, attracted God’s attention and found divine favor. The second is that Noah was given grace on God’s free initiative, not because of any good behavior or spark of potential on Noah’s part, and that as a result of receiving grace he is righteous and blameless. Both the fuller context of a biblical understanding of God’s undeserved grace and the order of the propositions in verses 8 and 9 militate in favor of the latter interpretation.

Allah (glorified is He) tells us in a very profound ayah (verse): “Verily with hardship comes ease.” (Qur’an, 94:5). Growing up I think I understood this ayah wrongly. I used to think it meant: after hardship comes ease. In other words, I thought life was made up of good times and bad times. After the bad times, come the good times. I thought this as if life was either all good or all bad. But that is not what the ayah is saying. The ayah is saying WITH hardship comes ease. The ease is at the same time as the hardship. This means that nothing in this life is ever all bad (or all good). In every bad situation we’re in, there is always something to be grateful for. With hardship, Allah also gives us the strength and patience to bear it.

This famous passage from “The Golden Verses,” which Epictetus quoted to his students, describes the evening meditation: Allow not sleep to close your wearied eyes, Until you have reckoned up each daytime deed: “Where did I go wrong? What did I do? And what duty’s left undone?” From first to last review your acts and then Reprove yourself for wretched acts, but rejoice in those done well.27 You can ask yourself these three very simple questions: 1. What did you do badly? Did you allow yourself to be ruled by irrational fears or unhealthy desires? Did you act badly or allow yourself to indulge in irrational thoughts? 2. What did you do well? Did you make progress by acting wisely? Praise yourself and reinforce what you want to repeat. 3. What could you do differently? Did you omit any opportunities to exercise virtue or strength of character? How could you have handled things better?

Doggerel by a Senior Citizen (for Robert Lederer) Our earth in 1969 Is not the planet I call mine, The world, I mean, that gives me strength To hold off chaos at arm’s length. My Eden landscapes and their climes Are constructs from Edwardian times, When bath-rooms took up lots of space, And, before eating, one said Grace. The automobile, the aeroplane, Are useful gadgets, but profane: The enginry of which I dream Is moved by water or by steam. Reason requires that I approve The light-bulb which I cannot love: To me more reverence-commanding A fish-tail burner on the landing. My family ghosts I fought and routed, Their values, though, I never doubted: I thought the Protestant Work-Ethic Both practical and sympathetic. When couples played or sang duets, It was immoral to have debts: I shall continue till I die To pay in cash for what I buy. The Book of Common Prayer we knew Was that of 1662: Though with-it sermons may be well, Liturgical reforms are hell. Sex was of course —it always is— The most enticing of mysteries, But news-stands did not then supply Manichean pornography. Then Speech was mannerly, an Art, Like learning not to belch or fart: I cannot settle which is worse, The Anti-Novel or Free Verse. Nor are those Ph.D’s my kith, Who dig the symbol and the myth: I count myself a man of letters Who writes, or hopes to, for his betters. Dare any call Permissiveness An educational success? Saner those class-rooms which I sat in, Compelled to study Greek and Latin. Though I suspect the term is crap, There is a Generation Gap, Who is to blame? Those, old or young, Who will not learn their Mother-Tongue. But Love, at least, is not a state Either en vogue or out-of-date, And I’ve true friends, I will allow, To talk and eat with here and now. Me alienated? Bosh! It’s just As a sworn citizen who must Skirmish with it that I feel Most at home with what is Real.

Seven P.M. Half an hour to go until we started the laborious task of getting kitted up again. It would take us at least an hour. By the end no part of our bodies or faces would be visible. We would be transformed into cocooned figures, huddled, awaiting our fate. I reached into the top pouch of my backpack and pulled out a few crumpled pages wrapped in plastic. I had brought them just for this moment. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall. But those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:29-31. I felt that this was all I really had up here. There’s no one else with enough extra strength to keep you safe. It really is just you and your Maker. No pretense, no fluff--no plan B. Over the next twenty-four hours, there would be a one in six chance of dying. That focuses the mind. And the bigger picture becomes important. It was time to look death in the eye. Time to acknowledge that fear, hold the hand of the Almighty, and climb on. And those simple Bible verses would ring round my head for the next night and day, as we pushed on ever higher.

The flesh was to be eaten. It is not enough even that we believe on Christ for the forgiveness of sin; we must by faith be constantly receiving spiritual strength and nourishment from him through his word. Said Christ, “Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, hath eternal life.” John 6:53, 54. And to explain his meaning he said, “The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.” Verse 63. Jesus [278] accepted his Father’s law, wrought out its principles in his life, manifested its spirit, and showed its beneficent power in the heart. Says John, “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.” John 1:14. The followers of Christ must be partakers of his experience. They must receive and assimilate the word of God so that it shall become the motive power of life and action. By the power of Christ they must be changed into his likeness, and reflect the divine attributes. They must eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Son of God, or there is no life in them. The spirit and work of Christ must become the spirit and work of his disciples.

Neither Jesus nor Paul nor John point to activity in the church or miracles as evidence of regeneration. They rather point to character traits in life. In fact, immediately after the verses quoted above Jesus warns that on the day of judgment many will say to him, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?” But he will declare to them, “I never knew you; depart from me, you evildoers” (Matt. 7:22–23). Prophecy, exorcism, and many miracles and mighty works in Jesus’ name (to say nothing of other kinds of intensive church activity in the strength of the flesh over perhaps decades of a person’s life) do not provide convincing evidence that a person is truly born again. Apparently all these can be produced in the natural man or woman’s own strength, or even with the help of the evil one. But genuine love for God and his people, heartfelt obedience to his commands, and the Christlike character traits that Paul calls the fruit of the Spirit, demonstrated consistently over a period of time in a person’s life, simply cannot be produced by Satan or by the natural man or woman working in his or her own strength. These can only come about by the Spirit of God working within and giving us new life.

Lies flee in the presence of truth. And the Devil turns powerless when our minds turn to our all-powerful God. Here’s where I become quite fascinated. Jesus had access to thousands of scriptures from the Old Testament. He knew them. He could have used any of them. But He chose three specific ones. I’ve decided I want these three to be at the top of my mind. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Empty Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD. (Deuteronomy 8:3) My soul was hand designed to be richly satisfied in deep places by the Word of God. When I go without the nourishment of truth, I will crave filling my spiritual hunger with temporary physical pleasures, thinking they will somehow treat the loneliness inside. These physical pleasures can’t fill me, but they can numb me. Numb souls are never growing souls. They wake up one day feeling so very distant from God and wondering how in the world they got there. Since Satan’s goal is to separate us from the Lord, this is exactly where he wants us to stay. But the minute we turn to His Word is the minute the gap between us and God is closed. He is always near. His Word is full and fully able to reach those deep places inside us desperate for truth. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Deprived “Fear the LORD your God, serve him only and take your oaths in his name” (Deuteronomy 6:13). Another version of this verse says, “Worship Him, your True God, and serve Him.” (THE VOICE) When we worship God, we reverence Him above all else. A great question to ask: Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? What is holding my attention the most is what I’m truly worshipping. Sacred worship is all about God. Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? Secret worship is all about something in this world that seems so attractive on the outside but will devour you on the inside. Pornography, sex outside of marriage, trading your character to claw your way to a position of power, fueling your sense of worth with your child’s successes, and spending outside of your means to constantly dress your life in the next new thing—all things we do to counteract feelings of being left out of and not invited to the good things God has given others—these are just some of the ways lust sneaks in and wreaks havoc. Two words that characterize misplaced worship or lust are secret excess. God says if we will direct our worship to Him, He will give us strength to turn from the mistakes of yesterday and provide portions for our needs of today. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (PSALM 73:25–26) And I Certainly Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Rejected Do not put the LORD your God to the test. (Deuteronomy 6:16)

Серафимы I Резнею кровавой на время насытясь, Устали и слуги, и доблестный витязь И входят под своды обители Божьей, Где теплятся свечи Господних подножий. И с кроткой улыбкой со стен базилики Глядят серафимов блаженные лики. II Палач утомленный уснул на мгновенье. Подвешенной жертвы растет исступленье. На дыбе трепещет избитое тело, Медлительным пыткам не видно предела. А там, над землею, над тьмою кромешной, Парят серафимы с улыбкой безгрешной. III В глубоком «in pace», без воли и силы, Монахиня бьется о камни могилы. В холодную яму, где крысы и плесень, Доносится отзвук божественных песен. То – с гулом органа, в куреньях незримы, «Осанна! Осанна!» поют серафимы. The Seraphim I Gorged for a time with bloody slaughter, both servants and valorous hero are weary and enter the dome of God's dwelling, where candles glimmer at the Master's feet, and from the basilica's walls, with gentle smiles, gaze the blissful faces of the Seraphim. II The weary executioner has dozed for an instant. The hung victim's frenzy grows. A beaten body quivers on the rack, no limit to these slow tortures is seen. But there, above the earth, above this pitch darkness, soar the Seraphim with innocent smiles. III With deep "in pace" lacking strength and will, a nun beats against the stones of a grave. The echo of heavenly songs is heard in that cold pit, with rats and mould. But beyond - with the organ's roar, unseen in clouds of incense, "Hosanna, Hosanna!" sing the Seraphim.

VW Valley is one of the final mountains one climbs on Selection--but it’s among the worst. VW stands for Voluntary Withdrawal, and when you see the mountain you can understand why people have often quit here. Steep, windswept, and boggy--and at mile thirty it is the point where many recruits quit and remove themselves from the course--broken by the sheer distance, weight, and speed. But not me. Not now. On my backside, I slid down the first steep reentrant leading into the bowl of the valley. I was using the butt of my weapon to steer me as I glissaded down the snow, and I finally slowed at the bottom, near an iced-over stream. I crossed it and started straight up the face with Trucker behind me. On and on and on--until finally at the crest I collapsed and waited for him. Trux’s feet were both badly swollen. Later on he discovered that he’d broken both of his big toes somewhere around this point. It was purely from the incessant pounding his feet were taking. He was in agony. I heard him muttering under his breath. He was mumbling Bible verses to himself. We had often both quietly prayed together before the big marches. Now we needed that help more than ever. “I am holding you by your right hand…Do not be afraid. I am here to help you.” Isaiah, 41:13. If ever I needed to hear such words it was now. It is easy to be cynical and to think you do not need help when all is going your way; but if Selection taught me anything it is that we all have our limits. To push beyond those limits sometimes requires something beyond just ourselves. That is what my faith has given me--a secret strength and help when I have needed it most.

Making A Connection With The Word Of God Now that we’ve discussed the various methods of memorizing, we will move on to what is necessary to prepare for the memorization session itself. When you’re preparing to memorize the first thing that you need to do is read the text to make sure you understand it. It is easier to retain and recall what you memorized if you have full comprehension of what the scriptures are saying. Therefore it is always good to read the scriptures first. When you memorize focus on the meaning of the scripture that it may remain true to you. When you read the word of God certain things will jump out at you. This is God speaking to you through the pages. By memorizing what speaks out to you, you have a heartfelt association linked to the memory. Similar to peg and memorization by association, having a deep heartfelt connection to what you memorize gives your mind something extra to grab onto. It is infinitely more powerful to have a personal heart felt attachment to the verses in order to be able to recall it at the most practical or emotional times. Whereas other methods require a silly mental image or the smell of bacon to associate a verse with which has no emotional connection with you. If we are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength then we also should love His word by which we are saved. If then we love His word we will have the heartfelt connection necessary to practically apply the scriptures in a daily walk with Him. However if we do not have a heartfelt connection with the word of God, then we will not apply it at the appropriate times and thus our walks with God will be hindered. Rather than using the other seemingly ridiculous memorizing methods that are out there it is better to focus on the meaning while retaining it for later use. Seeing that it has a special place in your heart you will be able to more accurately recall it at the most necessary times. This is why I teach that you should only memorize what is jumping out at you from the pages. When this happens God is speaking to you through the pages for your daily walk. He uses life experiences mixed with teaching from His “text book” (the bible) to teach you. If then God uses this method to help you retain the scripture and the meaning behind it, shouldn't we also apply it when memorizing? Whatever God is teaching you at the time, He will compare the scriptures to your experiences in life that you’re currently going through. Even as it is written, “These things we also speak, not in words which man's wisdom teaches but which the Holy Spirit teaches, comparing spiritual things with spiritual.” 1Co 2:13  Understanding this it is good to memorize the subject He is giving us to learn. It will have practical, heartfelt meaning for you and for what you’re going through now. As a result because the meaning was associated with your heart, every time you need to recall this scripture accurately it will pop back up in your mind. A walk with God in His Spirit and His word must be heartfelt. Therefore Beloved, take the time to memorize what God is teaching you. Whatever is speaking true to the current situations of your life, memorize. These current situations God will use for lessons for growth, a troubling situation to overcome, or maybe a doctrinal dispute. If you’re learning new lessons then it’s good to remember these things as a good student of God. If it’s something to overcome always memorize what God has encouraged you with.

ISA40.31 But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up

Jesus reminds us in Luke 16:10, "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much" (NIV). Obedience-both in big ways and small ones-matters if we want to live a life of strength and purpose.

Our strength to conquer is found in pressing forward with God. The Lord told Jeremiah in the final verse of chapter one that the people would fight against him, but they would not prevail for one simple reason: “I am with you.

The Proverbs 31 woman is hardworking, a savvy businesswoman, a loving homemaker, a wise mother, and praised by her husband and children. It’s easy to read the first twenty-nine verses and think, I will never measure up to that! Read verse 30, though, and you see the truth: “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.” The reason the Proverbs 31 woman was able to develop these characteristics over the course of her lifetime was because her strength was not her own. The only thing that was perfect about her was God’s transformative power.

This verse just came to my mind yesterday while sitting in the train... ‘Pursue … overtake … and … recover all.’ 1 Samuel 30:8 When King David and his men returned home from battle, they discovered that the Amalekites had burned their homes to the ground and taken their families prisoner. They were devastated. They wept until they’d no tears left. Then God spoke to them and said, ‘Pursue … overtake … and … recover all.’ And with His help they did! So no matter how bad your situation looks right now, don’t give up. Cry if you have to, then dry your tears and go out in God’s strength and take back what the Enemy has stolen from you. If necessary, take it an inch at a time, drawing on His strength and not your own. Paul writes: ‘Let us not lose heart and grow weary and faint in acting nobly and doing right, for in due time and at the appointed season we shall reap, if we do not loosen and relax our courage and faint’ (Galatians 6:9 AMP Classic Edition). God won’t quit on you, so don’t quit on Him! He has promised in His Word: ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD your God’ (Isaiah 43:2-3 NIV 2011 Edition). Don’t give up - go through! It’s easy to quit, but it takes faith to go through. When your faith honours God, He honours your faith! And with Him on your side you’ll come out stronger than you were when you went in. So the word for you today is: ‘Pursue … overtake … and … recover all.

A good author is he who isn’t afraid to speak his mind; he who dictates the art of the verse. A scribbler who merely keeps quiet and enjoys being lauded is nothing but a reader with nothing of importance to do. He whose written word trickles from his wounds into the world and onto paper is not afraid to both praise and criticize, this is what he strives towards.

Eventually, he felt an overwhelming urge to meld his voice with the notes, and he began to play his ballad for the wind. Jack sang his verses, his fingers strumming with confidence. He sang to the southern wind with its promise of strength in battle. He sang to the western wind with its promise of healing. He sang to the northern wind with its promise of vindication. The notes rose and fell, undulating like the hills far beneath him. But while the wind carried his music and his voice, the folk of the air didn’t answer. What if they refuse to come? Jack wondered, with a pulse of worry. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Adaira rose to her feet. The wind seemed to be waiting for her to move. To stand and meet it. She stood planted on the rock as Jack continued to play, shielded by Orenna’s essence. Twice, he had played for the spirits and had nearly forgotten he was a man, that he was not a part of them. But this time he held firmly to himself as he watched the folk answer. The southern wind manifested first. They arrived with a sigh and formed themselves from the gust, individualizing into men and women with hair like fire—red and amber with a trace of blue. Great feathered wings bloomed from their backs like those of a bird, and each beat of their pinions emitted a wash of warmth and longing. Jack could taste the nostalgia they offered; he drank it like a bittersweet wine, like the memories of a summer long ago. The east wind was the next to arrive. They manifested in a flurry of leaves, their hair like molten gold. Their wings were fashioned like those of a bat, long and pronged and the shade of dusk. They carried the fragrance of rain in their wings. The west wind spun themselves out of whispers, with hair the shade of midnight, long and jeweled with stars. Their wings were like those of a moth, patterned with moons, beating softly and evoking both beauty and dread as Jack beheld them. The air shimmered at their edges like a dream, as if they might melt at any moment, and their skin smelled of smoke and cloves as they hovered in place, unable to depart as Jack’s music captivated them. Half of the spirits watched him, entranced by his ballad. But half of them watched Adaira, their eyes wide and brimming with light. “It’s her,” some of them whispered. Jack missed a note. He quickly regained his place, pushing his concern aside. It felt like his nails were creating sparks on the brass strings. He sang the verse for the northern wind again. The sky darkened. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the north reluctantly answered Jack’s summoning. The air plunged cold and bitter as the strongest of the winds manifested from wisps of clouds and stinging gales. It answered the music, fragmenting into men and women with flaxen hair, dressed in leather and links of silver webs. Their wings were translucent and veined, reminiscent of a dragonfly’s, boasting every color found beneath the sun. They came reluctantly, defiantly. Their eyes bore into him like needles. Jack was alarmed by their reaction to him. Some of them hissed through their sharp teeth, while others cowered as if awaiting a death blow. His ballad came to its end, and the absence of his voice and music sharpened the terror of the moment. Adaira continued to stand before an audience of manifested spirits, and Jack was stunned by the sight of them. To know that they had rushed alongside him as he walked the east. That he had felt their fingers in his hair, felt them kiss his mouth and steal words from his lips, carrying his voice in their hands. And his music had just summoned them. His voice and song now held them captive, beholden to him. He studied the horde. Some of the spirits looked amused, others shocked. Some were afraid, and some were angry.

When we determine in our hearts to be thankful—in all circumstances—we open the door to God’s unexpected blessing and provision.

We need more than “pink fluff” theology of out-of-context Bible verses, compliments to our personalities that never challenge us to grow, and topical messages about womanhood and identity. We are tired of the Bible being watered down and made palatable. We need and want truth, because only truth will set us free.

Take heed, my sweet, For you shall rue The day you found In me a foe; And what, you ask, Is my revenge? You will not understand, But I will tell: To think you know When you know not; To think you see When you are blind; No might can break, No wit cast off, This curse with which I bind thee; Your cunning plans, Your strength of will, Alike shall fail To free thee. It can be broken, yes; The way of that is hid; You never shall break free, As none before you did. A lowly thing, A gentle thing, May break the spell at last; But hope is vain That wastes itself On such a hopeless task.

During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching over me so long. Ya Allah show me some sign, some small mark of your favour, that I may find in myself the strength to cure my ills. O God most beneficent most merciful, be with me in this my time of need, my most grievous need. Then it occurred to him that he was being punished, and for a time that made it possible to suffer the pain, but after a time he got angry. Enough, God, his unspoken words demanded, why must I die when I have not killed, are you vengeance or are you love? The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded, and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to thin air, that there was nobody there at all, and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life, and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be. But he felt nothing, nothing nothing, and then one day he found that he no longer needed there to be anything to feel. On that day of metamorphosis the illness changed and his recovery began. And to prove to himself the non-existence of God, he now stood in the dining-hall of the city’s most famous hotel, with pigs falling out of his face. He looked up from his plate to find a woman watching him. Her hair was so fair that it was almost white, and her skin possessed the colour and translucency of mountain ice. She laughed at him and turned away. ‘Don’t you get it?’ he shouted after her, spewing sausage fragments from the corners of his mouth. ‘No thunderbolt. That’s the point.’ She came back to stand in front of him. ‘You’re alive,’ she told him. ‘You got your life back. That’s the point.

Prayer is a joy and a privilege, available to all of God’s children. The Lord longs to hear all of our concerns. Any concern that is too small to be turned into a prayer is too insignificant to be made into a burden.

She wears her imperfections like a crown, Illuminating the night with a vermilion renown.

Through the tumult, she dances with grace, Embracing each trial, face to face.

We find in Numbers 21 that the people got to another place where they didn’t seem able to move forward, and they grew very thirsty without water. We too will have dry times along the path to our promise. God commanded the people to gather and sing. Verse 17 informs us that they began to sing, “Spring up, O well,” the well began to fill with water so that they could drink and be refreshed. When we stop and praise, we will advance. Corporate worship is necessary for our victories in the days ahead. We need to find our place of corporate worship. Even if we don’t feel like worshiping, we need to worship. God will refresh us; He will give us strength; and we will be able to advance.

The Word says we should give thanks in every circumstance (see 1 Thess. 5:18). We can act upon this verse and ask God to build that reflex into us. We can thank God in every situation and receive the strength to keep our shield of faith in place.

Living Hurts [Verse] Woke up this morning to the sound of rain, Tears and thunder, just a different kind of pain. Got my coffee, took a sip, tried to feel alright, But the heartache's like a storm, rollin’ in tonight. [Verse 2] Saw an old photo, brought me right to my knees, Memories of a love, scattered like autumn leaves. In this small town where the years go by slow, Life is a mess, but it's the mess that helps us grow. [Chorus] Living hurts, oh but make it worth the pain, The tears fall like raindrops on a window pane. When the world bears down on your weary soul, Don't close your eyes, let the heartache make you whole. [Verse 3] The fields are overgrown with yesterday's dreams, Broken fences, shattered hopes, and silent screams. Yet there’s beauty in the wreckage, strength in the scars, In the darkest moments, we find who we really are. [Chorus] Living hurts, oh but make it worth the pain, The tears fall like raindrops on a window pane. When the world bears down on your weary soul, Don't close your eyes, let the heartache make you whole. [Bridge] Sometimes the hurtin's what keeps us alive, It's in the cracks where the light truly thrives. So stand in your sorrow, don't be afraid to feel, It’s the wounds that heal us, make the love real.

Life's Just a Day [Verse] Oh-oh, life's just a day, it's a wild, wild ride, Shit happens, we love, we lose, we still find our stride. From backroads to barrooms, in the shadow of the pines, We're tough as the mountains, strong as the Carolina vines. [Verse 2] When the sun dips low and the whiskey flows free, It's a dance with the devil but the stars never leave. We stumble and fall, but our boots hit the ground, With an outlaw heart, we’ll turn it all around. [Chorus] Oh, life's just a day, and it's a wild, wild ballet, Shit happens, we learn, we laugh, but we make our own way. Through the shadows and the scars, from the cradle to the grave, In the hard times and the good, yeah, we're brave. [Bridge] When the night is full of whispers and the moon's letting on, We find solace in the darkness, and in the crickets' song. For in every heartache, there's a story to tell, With each broken down fence, we rise up from the hell. [Verse 3] In rusted old trucks and in honky-tonk tunes, We gather our strength under a Tennessee moon. With a six-string in hand and a fire in our eyes, We’ll face down our demons with the courage of the skies. [Chorus] Oh, life's just a day, and it's a wild, wild ballet, Shit happens, we learn, we laugh, but we make our own way. Through the shadows and the scars, from the cradle to the grave, In the hard times and the good, yeah, we're brave.

Hearts Are Made To Be Broken [Verse] Hearts are made to be broken yeah we know Feel that ache deep down where the shadows grow They walked away left a scar don’t you see But that pain ain't holdin' me down no I’m free [Verse 2] Told myself I'd be alright through the storm Rain falls hard but it ain't my norm Your love was a fire burned too bright But now I'm gonna heal in the moonlight [Chorus] Hearts are made to be broken they say But I’ll rise from the ashes anyway If they left your love don’t give 'em your pain Find strength in yourself let go of the chain [Verse 3] Saw the dreams crumble like old dry leaves Singin’ songs of sorrow left to the breeze Bathed in regret but I won't stay Gonna keep movin’ yeah find my way [Verse 4] Dust on my boots felt dirt on my soul Walkin' through valleys where shadows roll But the sun’s gonna shine yeah I can tell Breakin' through dark like a saved soul yell [Chorus] Hearts are made to be broken they say But I’ll rise from the ashes anyway If they left your love don’t give 'em your pain Find strength in yourself let go of the chain

Cowboy Dreams [Verse] On this lonely road I walk alone Searching for a place to call my own In the silence I hear my heart’s cry A cowboy soul reaching for the sky [Verse 2] Dusty boots and a world so wide Across the plains where the wind resides Stars above and a fire low Chasing visions in the moon's soft glow [Chorus] Cowboy dreams in the night Dancing through the endless light Chasing dreams I'll never find But never looking back behind [Verse 3] Saddle up with the morning sun Another day another run Through the valleys and the mountain high Living wild until I die [Bridge] Oh the road is cold and long But I find my strength in song Every step another chance For a cowboy's heart to dance [Chorus] Cowboy dreams in the night Dancing through the endless light Chasing dreams I'll never find But never looking back behind

Stand Tall, Walk Free” October 11, 2024 at 10:35 AM Verse 1: In a small town where the shadows grow, There’s a girl with a heart of gold, She learned early on, life’s a winding road, But she won’t let her story go untold. Chorus: Stand up for yourself, don’t let 'em bring you down, Never give anyone permission to push you around, You’re stronger than you know, let your spirit shine through, Stand up for yourself, and the world will stand with you. Verse 2: He was a cowboy with a heavy hand, Tried to break her spirit, tried to make demands, With every bruise, she found her strength, She knew her worth, and she walked away at length. Chorus: Stand up for yourself, don’t let 'em bring you down, Never give anyone permission to push you around, You’re stronger than you know, let your spirit shine through, Stand up for yourself, and the world will stand with you. Bridge: In the face of darkness, be your own light, Hold your head high, and fight the good fight, Love yourself enough to walk away, From anyone who tries to make you stay. Chorus: Stand up for yourself, don’t let 'em bring you down, Never give anyone permission to push you around, You’re stronger than you know, let your spirit shine through, Stand up for yourself, and the world will stand with you. Outro: So here’s to the ones who find their voice, In a world that tries to drown out the noise, Stand up for yourself, let your heart be true, And remember, the world will stand with you.

Verse 1: She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad, With a smile that could light up the darkest night, He came along with dreams and promises so grand, But she just laughed and said, “I’ve got my own plans.” Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Verse 2: He offered her the world, but she had her own, A path she was walking, a life she had grown. With every step she took, she knew where she belonged, In the rhythm of her heart, in the words of her song. Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Bridge: She found her strength in the quiet of the night, In the whispers of the wind, in the morning light. With every sunrise, she knew she was strong, Living her truth, where she belonged. Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Outro: So here’s to the girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad, With a world of her own, and a life so beautifully clad. She didn’t need his promises, she was wild and free, Living her own story, just as it should be.

She's Wild and Free” October 1, 2024 at 12:11 PM Verse 1: She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad, With a smile that could light up the darkest night, oh, she had. He came along with dreams and promises so grand, But she just laughed and said, “I’ve got my own plans.” Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Verse 2: He offered her the world, but she had her own, A path she was walking, a life she had grown. With every step she took, she knew where she belonged, In the rhythm of her heart, in the words of her song. Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Bridge: She found her strength in the quiet of the night, In the whispers of the wind, in the morning light. With every sunrise, she knew she was strong, Living her truth, where she belonged. Chorus: She didn’t need his promises, she’s wild and free, Dancing in the moonlight, like a summer breeze. With a heart full of dreams and a soul that can fly, She said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll reach the sky.” Outro: So here’s to the girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad, With a world of her own, and a life so beautifully clad. She didn’t need his promises, she was wild and free, Living her own story, just as it should be.

I Am What Remains of Me”: October 9, 2024 at 9:53 AM Verse 1: I used to be a cowboy, riding high and free, With a heart full of dreams and a love that was meant to be. But the winds of change blew hard, and the years took their toll, Now I’m just a shadow, a man without a soul. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Verse 2: We danced under the moonlight, with stars in our eyes, But the fire burned out, and left me with goodbyes. Now the whiskey’s my companion, and the night my only friend, As I search for pieces of a heart that won’t mend. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Bridge: The sunsets still remind me of the warmth of your embrace, But the dawn brings the cold, and the tears upon my face. I keep holding on to moments that have slipped away, Hoping someday I’ll find the strength to face another day. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Outro: So I’ll ride into the sunset, with the pain that never fades, A lonely cowboy searching for the love that we once made. I am what remains of me, a story left untold, In the heart of a cowboy, who’s lost his way back home.

We Will Survive October 16, 2024 at 10:35 AM Verse 1 When the world feels heavy, and the night seems long We gather strength, we find our song Through stormy weather and the darkest nights We hold on tight, and we fight the fight Chorus We will survive tough times, we’ll rise above the pain With hearts so strong, we’ll face the rain Hand in hand, through every climb We will survive, we will survive tough times Verse 2 When the road gets rough, and we’re feeling low With hope in our hearts, together we’ll go Through trials and tears, we’ll stand tall In the face of it all, we’ll never fall Chorus We will survive tough times, we’ll rise above the pain With hearts so strong, we’ll face the rain Hand in hand, through every climb We will survive, we will survive tough times Bridge Through the fire and the flames, we find our light In the darkest hour, we hold on tight With every step, every tear we shed We build a future, we look ahead Verse 3 In unity we find our way With love and courage, we’ll seize the day Through the ups and downs, we’ll persevere With every breath, we’ll conquer fear Chorus We will survive tough times, we’ll rise above the pain With hearts so strong, we’ll face the rain Hand in hand, through every climb We will survive, we will survive tough times Outro So here’s to us, through thick and thin With every struggle, we begin again Together strong, through life’s tough rhymes We will survive, we will survive tough times

What Matters Most” October 4, 2024 at 11:41 AM Verse 1: When the sun sets on our journey, and the years have flown on by, We’ll look back on all the memories, with a tear and a sigh. The house we built together, the cars we loved to drive, They’ll fade into the background, as we cherish our sweet life. Chorus: 'Cause when we get to the end of our lives together, The things we owned won’t matter, not the stormy weather. What will matter is the love we shared, so wild and free, What will matter is that I had you, and you had me. Verse 2: Through the highs and lows we wandered, hand in hand through every storm, We found strength in each other, kept each other warm. The treasures of this world, they can’t compare to what we’ve got, A love that’s true and timeless, a love that can’t be bought. Chorus: 'Cause when we get to the end of our lives together, The things we owned won’t matter, not the stormy weather. What will matter is the love we shared, so wild and free, What will matter is that I had you, and you had me. Bridge: So let’s dance beneath the moonlight, and laugh until we cry, Let’s hold each other close, as the years go by. For in the end, it’s not the things, but the love that we will see, What will matter is that I had you, and you had me. Chorus: 'Cause when we get to the end of our lives together, The things we owned won’t matter, not the stormy weather. What will matter is the love we shared, so wild and free, What will matter is that I had you, and you had me. Outro: Yes, what will matter is that I had you, and you had me.

He had known it for years, had survived for years because of it, had found strength in the darkest pits of hell because of it, because of her. Amara.

September 6 “Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” Psalm 27:14 WAIT! Wait! Let your waiting be on the Lord! He is worth waiting for. He never disappoints the waiting soul. While waiting keep up your spirits. Expect a great deliverance, and be ready to praise God for it. The promise which should cheer you is in the middle of the verse: “He shall strengthen thine heart.” This goes at once to the place where you need help. If the heart be sound, all the rest of the system will work well. The heart wants calming and cheering; and both of these will come if it be strengthened. A forceful heart rests and rejoices, and throbs force into the whole man. No one else can get at that secret urn of life, the heart, so as to pour strength into it. He alone who made it can make it strong. God is full of strength, and, therefore, he can impart it to those who need it. Oh, be brave; for the Lord will impart his strength to you, and you shall be calm in tempest, and glad in sorrow. He who penned these lines can write as David did: “Wait, I say, on the Lord.” I do, indeed, say it. I know by long and deep experience that it is good for me to wait upon the Lord.

are referred to the fact that God is the upholder of the heavens; that it is His power that keeps the heavenly bodies in their places. But for His direct interposition there would be chaos. In the following verses this fact is offered to the people of God for their special encouragement. “Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God? Have you not known? Have you not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? There is no searching of His understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might He increaseth strength.” Isaiah 40.27-29

IDENTITY CLUE 10: THE DAUGHTER OF BABYLON MOUNTS UP TO HEAVENS “Though Babylon should mount up to heaven, and though she should fortify the height of her strength, yet from me spoilers come unto her, saith the LORD.” (Jeremiah 51:53) This is a fascinating verse, in that it was written over 2,600 years before man perfected flight and could rise up to the heavens.

Phillippians chapter 4, verse thirteen,” she said, “'I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.

ECC10.14 A fool also is full of words: a man cannot tell what shall be; and what shall be after him, who can tell him?  ECC10.15 The labour of the foolish wearieth every one of them, because he knoweth not how to go to the city. ECC10.16 Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child, and thy princes eat in the morning!  ECC10.17 Blessed art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles, and thy princes eat in due season, for strength, and not for drunkenness!  ECC10.18 By much slothfulness the building decayeth; and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through. ECC10.19 A feast is made for laughter, and wine maketh merry: but money answereth all things. ECC10.20 Curse not the king, no not in thy thought; and curse not the rich in thy bedchamber: for a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.

Bible study is kind of like going to the gym and working out. When you study your Bible, you are exercising spiritually. We see this analogy over and over again in Scripture. Paul told Timothy: “Spend your time and energy in the exercise of keeping spiritually fit” (1 Tim. 4:7 TLB). The Greek word used here for “spiritually fit” is gymnasia, which is obviously where we get our English word gymnasium. Paul is telling Timothy to exercise himself spiritually, the implication being that spiritual exercise will help him grow strong in his faith and character. Paul goes on to say in verse 8: “Bodily exercise is all right, but spiritual exercise is much more important and is a tonic for all you do. So exercise yourself spiritually, and practice being a better Christian because that will help you not only now in this life, but in the next life too” (TLB). Peter says the same thing: “… grow in spiritual strength and become better acquainted with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18 TLB).

Priorities: Priority #1: God The relationship with God must come first. Why? Because we need God's perspective in every area of our lives. ... Priority #2: Husband Solomon said, "A worthy wife is her husband's joy and crown; the other kind corrodes his strength and tears down everything he does" (Proverbs 12:4) ... Priority #3: Children See Bible verses about child rearing. ... Priority #4: Home Proverbs 31:27 The virtuous wife in Proverbs 31 seems to have been a very neat, tidy housekeeper. It seems to come naturally to some people, but I'm not one of them. Priority #5: Yourself Everyone needs time alone - time to read, to indulge in a hobby, or just to do nothing. Evaluate your weekly schedule and plan into it time for yourself. ... Priority #6: Outside The Home I was sharing my excitement about the priorities of a woman's life with a group of women in upstate New York, and one woman said, "Linda, I cannot believe what you are saying. I know that you believe in the Great Commission, to go into the world and preach the gospel, was given to women as well as to men, yet you are saying that our service for Christ is at the end of the list. Since I became a Christian two years ago, my service to the Lord has been first!" I smiled and told her I'd like to ask her husband how he liked that! When my children were very young, I decided before God to keep my priorities in the order I've shared. I still re-evaluate where I spend my time and seek to keep God first, Husband second, my children third, my home fourth, me fifth, and my outside activities sixth.

(Prov. 31:10–11) This woman is a role model. She is a high-capacity woman, very capable as “a helper fit for him.” In fact, the phrase “an excellent wife” in verse 10 can be translated more literally “a woman of strength.” The Septuagint, the ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, even renders the phrase as “a manly woman.” This iconic woman is strong. How so? This poem goes on to say that she works hard, she makes money, she is kind to the poor, she is fearless about the future, she enhances her husband’s reputation, she speaks with wisdom, plus more. Verse 17 sums it up: “She

We were now receiving daily very accurate weather reports from the Bracknell Weather Centre in the UK. These gave us the most advanced precision forecast available anywhere in the world. The meteorologists were able to determine wind strengths to within five knots accuracy at every thousand feet of altitude. Our lives would depend on these forecasts back up the mountain. Each morning, the entire team would crowd eagerly around the laptop to see what the skies were bringing--but it did not look good. Those early signs of the monsoon arriving in the Himalayas, the time when the strong winds over Everest’s summit begin to rise, didn’t seem to be coming. All we could do was wait. Our tents were very much now home to us at base camp. We had all our letters and little reminders from our families. I had a seashell I had taken from a beach on the Isle of Wight, in which Shara had written my favorite verse--one I had depended on so much through the military. “Be sure of this, that I am with you always, even unto the end of the earth.” Matthew 28:20. I reread it every night at base camp before I went to sleep. There was no shame in needing any help up here.