A New Year's Message-Psalter Hymn (Psalm 148)

Hallelujah, praise Jehovah,
From the heavens praise His Name;
Praise Jehovah in the highest,
All His angels, praise proclaim.
All His hosts, together praise Him,
Sun and moon and stars on high;
Praise Him, O ye heavens,
And ye floods above the sky.

Let them praises give Jehovah,
They were made at His command;
Them forever He established,
His decree shall ever stand.
From the earth, O praise Jehovah,
All ye seas, ye monsters all,
Fire and hail and snow and vapors,
Stormy winds that hear His call.

Let them praises give Jehovah
For His Name alone is high,
And His glory is exalted,
From the earth and sky.

For a dear friend -

For a moment or perhaps a long while,
we are dropped into the depths of despair,
a tragedy of intense proportions. In the darkness we struggle with difficult and often confusing feelings.

As Christians we often feel guilty about these feelings. All are true human emotions, and necessary in enabling us to cope.

God understands our pain and our suffering.
He will wrap his loving arms around us,
He will be there when no one else can.

After a time we begin to feel his presence.
You can see a faint light in the distance.

This is the light of HOPE.

Moving toward the light -The Holy Spirit takes us by the hand and helps us to move even closer to the light. The light of the Lord that shines into each of our lives.

Here in The Lords loving presence our souls and our wounds begin to heal.

God has a plan for us and we can rest assured that we have been called here for a purpose. Our job is not yet finished.

We must continue to move forward.

We might not understand the sequence of events in our lives. We might not understand the meaning of our suffering. But we have not lost everything , we are not alone.

We will always have HOPE.


As we celebrate the Holiday season, let us remember that Hope was born at Christmas,
His name is Jesus.

And Hope does live on.

John Milton's sonnet "On His Blindness"

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”