“And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy..., for Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by Thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation.” Rev. 5:9
Every morning the red sun
Rises warm and bright;
But the evening cometh on,
And the dark cold night;
There’s a bright land far away,
Where ’tis never-ending day.
Little birds sing songs of praise
All the summer long;
But in colder, shorter days,
They forget their song.
There’s a place where children sing
Ceaseless praises to the King.
“My lips shall praise Thee.”
Psalms 63:3
ML-04/15/1979