Now here is the story told of a man, who rose up and said: “Hear hear, as I speak mysteries without interpretation. Listen well, for my words do not mean what they should, but they reveal my deepest thoughts. I hold concealed in one hand keys to the past, and in my bosom is hidden the door to the future. Now hear my dilemma and give me counsel. What do I say to console myself, having lost my other arm in a bid to rob from it’s owner the keys to the future? For my enemy holds with both fists the keys to the future, and hides behind the door to the past.”
There is silence till a child responds: “Sire, thou hast no hands.” To which an old man adds: “The doors to the future have no locks, one just needs to push through.”
When the dawn rises,
Glimpses of golden rays fall
Shimmering on diamond dews;
Beautiful Hope is nature’s prophecy,
Cast in stone and light and time.
Living portraits of timeless testimonies.
Ever new, ever changing, never despairing.
If I had the opportunity to choose my own father,
I wouldn’t choose him because of his wealth,
Or because of his looks – not colour, hair, gait, height or weight;
I wouldn’t choose him because of how well read he is, but for his wisdom;
Me calling you ‘father’ is a heavy responsibility I lay at your feet,
Which you take with grace.
He deserves the best, but I usually give Him the rest;
What’s left after I’ve taken what I ‘need’ and want;
I take a breath, take a bite, take a nap,
Before I consider how it’s all possible.
I take a step, get a hug, get my prize,
Then I wonder, what would He want?
He wants all of me, He deserves the best of me.
It was said of the men of old
That they walked with God
And sought His face
And spoke with God
And pleased the Lord.
Of these I am sure:
That the Lord is my shepherd;
That His Spirit keeps my heart pure;
That by His Grace, my cries are always heard.
I will hold on to Your promises,
Believing them to be true,
Knowing You will come through,
For Your faithfulness has been the talk of ages.