|Hear the right, |
O Lord, attend
unto my cry, do
give ear unto my
prayer, that goeth
not out of feigned lips.
|Jesus, hear us, and let our cry |
come to Thee. That voiceless cry,
that comes from anguished hearts, is
heard above all the music of Heaven. It is
not the arguments of theologians that solve
the problems of a questioning heart, but the cry
of that heart to Me, the certainty that I have heard.
Now unto Him who is able to keep you from stumbling…
to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless…
with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ
our Lord, glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time
now and forever.
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Now, to those that my heart has heard you say,
“Come and talk with Me, My people.”
And my heart responds
Lord, i am coming.”
at the end of this essay; let us relax into not too many minutes which make up your day…
Your’s and mine. Each of us are alloted the same amount of time to regulate our coming
and goings. it’s magnificent how we all blend together to create the mix we call life. dig:
time. what is this or that pre-ordained script that just may be fitting in an almost bizarre
fashion into the future. try and not waste it. our lives are seemingly insignificant when
compared to others. comparing our novel with the script of another is a big waste of the
whatever amount of whatever. fill in those blanks to create just one, not two, but one page
inside yOUR story. think of it like this: if you’d, if we’d, they’d only had capitalized on this
or that’s idea, in one way or another; 🤔 it is that selected amount of time that isn’t worth
was consistently executed to make room for the exact amount of period. to think: all the
periods that fill so much less of a poem that goes by the same name as an hour.there are
twenty four little films that are in incessantly re-written. each one devolved to create the
new thing. the thing being whatever you wish. look at your watch, or that clock set along
so there are films that strike a nerve that only salty servicemen had exposed by no fault of
their own that has them know the deep deep feelings that war brings along riding sidekick.
all that i know of war, real warring is the brash inhumanity shown to my eyes through a
movies that pride themselves of coming close to; only coming close to a visioned horror
that the storied man only feels as though he is worthy to tell tales only heard of and not
seen with their own delicate eyes. no, what David can do is relay the pity, few veterans do
go to sleep every night that their own body’s fear: their soul enough to make what every
weathered vet know’s as that Hollow vision one devil-dog explained his battle stare. no
feeling clouds the scene, no care is not a natural way to be. what buyhim got right: was
positioning the subservient, foolish characters positioned in front of the sterile, pleasing
bit of good who don’t give a hoot of what the leading the complete idiots who destroy our
OUR land of the free. The home of OUR brave veterans who do can actually relate to what
it means to risk life and limb; so that those decent and respectable public servants: those
police, firemen, and medical folk who risk their own health go display that compassion toward
those who’ve ever deserved one hoot compassion, those young scoundrels who go about
our cities and our town’s where they act like kings and queens expecting others to be their
little minions knowing that THEY have the stylish clothes on, THEY drive a car to school,
THEY have money that is wasted on nothings that does not calm their own so insecure
character for fear of others thinking “if i could just be like them.” catch this clue; try to
not let it out of your grasp: we’re all the same rotting flesh at the end of our movie.