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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
His Face is like the sun in space. His Heart is liquid Joy. His Justice burns up all disgrace. He's pure without alloy. (Psalm 91:1-4) The feathers of His covering wings enclose His little child. His Voice, a harp, that daily sings, His Hands, so wondrous mild. The rough-hewn cross upon His Back He wore to pay my debt. The monster cave no torturous lack could His Blest Rising let. (Romans 10:9-10; John 6:37,44) The ring of His Salvation's oath is worn forevermore upon the finger, each day's growth of the Bride His Call implored. Secured by stalwart giant reach, redeemed by saving hands, thus kept by He, Whose Voice doth teach His daily Master Plan. by Jay O’Toole on September 10th, 2024     |
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