Sail On, O Ship of State!

“The Republic” from “The Building of the Ship,”

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1850)

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
’T is of the wave and not the rock;
’T is but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest’s roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o’er our fears,
Are all with thee,—are all with thee!

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“Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land.”

2 Chronicles 7:14, NLT

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Long Furrows

The Plowers

“Many a time they have afflicted me
from my youth;
Yet they have not prevailed against
me.
The plowers plowed on my back;
They made their furrows long.”

Psalm 129:2-3

The farmers here have begun making long furrows.

Lord, help us trust our deep afflicted places to you, that You may plant good in them.  And here’s a simple poem . . .

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He Prevails

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From our youth
they have afflicted

yet somehow
they have failed

though pushed down
and plowed long

His will for us
prevails.

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With Love,

Debbie

Deb’s blog can be found and read at: http://iftodaywehear.wordpress.com/

A Declared Trust

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I once scorned ev’ry fearful thought of death.
When it was but the end of pulse and breath,
But now my eyes have seen that past the pain
There is a world that’s waiting to be claimed.
Earthmaker, Holy, let me now, depart,
For living’s such a temporary art.
And dying is but getting dressed for God.

Our graves are merely doorways cut in sod.

— Calvin Miller

The Lord is My Archer– A Poem

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“Then God will come into view,
    his arrows flashing like lightning!”

Zechariah 7:14

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The Lord is My Archer

Lowering himself, he carefully chooses

The living arrow that he hast made

My life has been polished just for this

Made smooth and sharp by wise hands that see

For this very precise and holy moment

To be fitted– simple notch to taut string.

The strong bow and ready arrow meet

And boldly dispatched with an eye so sure.

&

ybic, Bryan

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