Sunday
"Modified Pagan" the way that we live.
All is too much, but something we give.
Enough to seem noble, kindly, and good,
But not nearly as much as we know that we should.
Steeped in the trappings of comfort and ease,
But rarely are found to be on our knees.
Fooled by deception of earthly allure,
Clinging to that which is only manure.
The way of the pagan must not be our way,
We're called to a brighter, more beautiful day.
Where self is denied for the good of the soul,
And likeness to Christ is our eminent goal.
So shake off the old, and be clothed with the new,
And model His ways in all that you do.
Be filled with the Spirit of goodness and love.
The Cross is our way to our home up above.
Monday
Too much, the weight of sinful men
Who feed and yet are starved again.
They never satisfied will be
If in the manna fail to see.
His loving care, how He provides
The manna and the quail besides.
The water from the rock that flowed,
And blessings on each soul bestowed.
A gratitude is what we need
To daily on His manna feed,
And find a favored flavor there
That satisfies our every care.
Be grateful now and you will see
How manifold your blessings be,
And how He cares for faithful sheep,
Providing while they restful sleep.
Tuesday
In faith a merely juvenile,
A leper for a little while,
To learn to listen, and obey,
And follow well the Maker's way.
He speaks to humble, poor, and meek
Who come to Him and purely seek
His daily food for every day,
To do His will in every way.
Wednesday
How have I failed like Israel
To of His mighty wonders tell,
To slay the giants facing me
By placing firmly, trust in Thee?
Such great offense to know His care,
and cower 'fore the wicked there.
Yet still it happens to this day,
We act at times in this same way.
We choose to simply not engage,
And let the evil tyrants wage
A war on all that's true and good
Instead of fighting as we should.
Thursday
The leader's way is never sure,
for ways of man are never pure.
The worldly way of self creeps in
And draws us toward a life of sin.
A barren place of sand and stone
Where many are as all alone.
Till last upon the door they knock,
And water flows from in the rock
The way of man can never see
The wisdom in divinity,
Except when mulling over past,
We see a mighty work at last.
So lead in docile, humble ways
And seek His will throughout the days.
He leads us to the cross, it's true.
But through the cross, makes life anew.
Friday
On Tabor's height His glory shone.
With prophets there did speak.
And then, at once, He's all alone
Upon the mountain peak.
They heard the voice, "This is My Son."
Yet didn't understand.
That suffering would come to One,
Accord the Father's plan.
Through death alone, the glory comes,
The victory over sin.
The total gift of self becomes
The way to finally win.
Saturday
Oh, faith be drilled to deep within
To far below this outer skin.
Till all within has been made clean,
And only Christ in me be seen.
Allow the mustard seed to grow
And let Your love within me flow,
That mountains move when ere I say,
"Be gone," to demons of the day
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