They’ve held my hand and guided my way
And lead me down the pathways of life.
And what a case of  “patience” in truth
As they dealt with my questions in rife.

And now what can I effect for them
In the time of their ripened old age?
The wise who have been pillars in life—
What might be done to comfort such sage?

To pay a fond, warm visit in kind.
A card.  A call.  A letter. A smile.
Take time to hold a wrinkled lil hand,
Or  give a small gift every short while.

All the black hairs are become quite grey
Such folks are a grand treasure on loan.
And in all of our prayers for them—
May God keep them for ever His own.

(Cry of Grievance: life's overwhelming problems.)

Except for God's mercy,
My troubles would have long
Destroyed me.

Multiplied like the stars,
They are as deceitful as
The ways of a brook.
An innocent prey, stalked game;
I am the target of their poignant aim.

Like water, my troubles flow;
They are as unwelcome as a foe.

But God shall plague them.
He shall bind them with a strong cord
And crush them 'neath his mighty foot.
And they shall cease.

Lord, by your sovereign power,
Rebuke them into oblivion
That they all cease.

**NOTE: This psalm does not refer to any person. Herein, I am simply speaking of the daily grind in my life, which seemed to have been multiplied one-hundred fold.

(A Song of Trust. A doxological hymn.)


All-wise and loving
Heavenly Father,
I completely rest
In you.

(A Psalm of Declaration: the sovereignty
of God.)

From everlasting to everlasting,
Behold—I am God.
I've created mankind
From the dusty sod.
There is no disparity
Nor variance with me.
In truth, as I am—
I shall forever be
Alpha and Omega—
The first and last.
The dawn and scope
Of ages past.
There is none like me,
And my decree shall be.
I declare all things;
There is none like me.
I am self-existing:
For I alone am God
Who rules the powers that be
With the scepter and rod.
I, Jehovah, never change.
And tho' the heavens sever—
I the Lord am the same
Yesterday and forever.

God’s love is
Pure and perfect.
He loves you,
And He loves me.
My heart’s smitten
With His love.
Now how idyllic
This should be.

January is a month
Of beginnings.

The beginning
Of the end
Of the old year
And all that goes.

And the beginning
Of the launching
Of a new year
With all it brings.

Despite the freezing, wintry storms,
Generous souls are proven warm
As grateful hearts this thankful eve,
Are poised to give and not receive.
Human kindness magically soars.
Many embrace the sick and poor.
Corporations and bikers clubs,
Join to share much needed grub:
Turkey, Brown Bags, and full meals.
Sick and homeless—meals on wheels.
And though uncertainty fills the air,
There's joy for Thanksgiving's near,
When folks unite to take a part
Of faith renewed in the human heart.
Perhaps tomorrow, It'll all go away,
But for now, it's Thanksgiving Day.