Saturday, June 25, 2016


Sophia Myles


My voice will cry out in distress.
I will be heard.

I will seek help when I am in trouble.

My hands will reach up until night.
I will repeat my reach.

I think of peace. I feel restless.

I work for comfort. My spirit faints.

My eyelids won't close.

I am troubled. I dare not speak.

I read about history.

I consider my past.

I commune with my heart at night.

I search my mind. What will it take
to achieve success? Will I be put off
forever? Has nobless oblige
been forgotten?

Is there no promise for me?

Has graciousness been taken 
from grace?
Has anger eliminated compassion?

I say: "My grief is this.

Moral law has been taken 
from government.
It's not civil."

I will remember what has worked 
for people in history.

I will call to mind wonders

from the past.

I will meditate 
for energy. I will 
reflect on the design of power.

Respect for life is holy.

Is anyone more holy than life?

No one has the right to murder.

Even the Giver of the promise 
obeys the law.

The promise is for providence.
Whoever loves knows this experience.

Love has worked wonders.

This power has been shown to the people.

The strength of this power cleanses us

for redemption. We are the children
of resourcefulness. We prepare 
for times of trouble.

The water saw your power

reach down from the sky.
It trembled. It was shaken
to the depths.

The waters waited to touch the whirlwind
as it extended down to earth.

The turbulent waves 

wanted to reach up 
to meet your touch.

When heaven 

reached the sea
a pathway was cleared. 

Rain poured down from the clouds.

Lightning flashed.
Thunder rumbled. The earth shook.
Air was sucked from the atmosphere, 
but a way across the shallow sea was seen.

We were liberated from slavery.
Your footsteps were not visible, but
you led your people to experience
freedom in the exodus 
through the wilderness.

We were drawn through the reeds
to offer the sacrifice of praise.

This is my deliverance.

A path has been made straight
for me with the people.

I will reach out with my voice
whenever it is needed.

77 Voce mea ad Dominum
1 I will cry aloud to God; *
I will cry aloud, and he will hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord; *
my hands were stretched out by night and did not tire;
I refused to be comforted.
3 I think of God, I am restless, *
I ponder, and my spirit faints.
4 You will not let my eyelids close; *
I am troubled and I cannot speak.
5 I consider the days of old; *
I remember the years long past;
6 I commune with my heart in the night; *
I ponder and search my mind.
7 Will the Lord cast me off for ever? *
will he no more show his favor?
8 Has his loving-kindness come to an end for ever? *
has his promise failed for evermore?
9 Has God forgotten to be gracious? *
has he, in his anger, withheld his compassion?
10 And I said, "My grief is this: *
the right hand of the Most High has lost its power."
11 I will remember the works of the Lord, *
and call to mind your wonders of old time.
12 I will meditate on all your acts *
and ponder your mighty deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy; *
who is so great a god as our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders *
and have declared your power among the peoples.
15 By your strength you have redeemed your people, *
the children of Jacob and Joseph.
16 The waters saw you, O God;
the waters saw you and trembled; *
the very depths were shaken.
17 The clouds poured out water;
the skies thundered; *
your arrows flashed to and fro;
18 The sound of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
your lightnings lit up the world; *
the earth trembled and shook.
19 Your way was in the sea,
and your paths in the great waters, *
yet your footsteps were not seen.
20 You led your people like a flock *
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

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