The blood that Jesus shed for me,
'Way back on Calvary;
The blood that gives me strength from day to day,
It will never lose its power.
It reaches to the highest mountain,
It flows to the lowest valley,
The blood that gives me strength form day to day,
It will never lose its power.
It soothes my doubts and calms my fears,
And it dries all my tears;
The blood that gives me strength from day to day,
It will never lose its power.
It reaches to the highest mountain,
It flows to the lowest valley,
The blood that gives me strength form day to day,
It will never lose its power.
Grace be with you all. (Titus3:15)
” As the tender dew which falls in the silent night makes the grass and herbs and flowers to flourish and grow more
abundantly than great showers of rain which fall in the day;
so secret prayer will more abundantly cause the sweet herbs
of grace and holiness to grow and flourish in the soul, than all those more open, public, and visible duties of religion, which too, too often, are mingled and mixed with the sun and wind of pride and hypocrisy.”
—John Bunyan, A Discourse of Closet Prayer, 1665
FATHER IN HEAVEN, hear us as we draw near to you.
Kindle in us that heat and fire to seek you.
We can become very cold clay.
Breathe upon us by your Spirit and make us ready for another evening and morning in Jesus Christ.
Help us to bless many by Obedience and Encouragement.
WE ask provision for the needy and comfort for the distressed.
Restore us as we sleep.
You are good and your mercy endures forever.
Amen.
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/h/w/hwhowvbe.htm
Who would true valour see,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather
There’s no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
To be a pilgrim.
Whoso beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound;
His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He’ll with a giant fight,
He will have a right
To be a pilgrim.
Hobgoblin nor foul fiend
Can daunt his spirit,
He knows he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He’ll fear not what men say,
He’ll labor night and day
To be a pilgrim.
—John Bunyan, 1684