Day 7: Above the world
If the Lord had not been on our side… the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, the raging waters would have swept us away. Praise be to the Lord, who has not let us be torn... We have escaped like a bird from the fowler’s snare; the snare has been broken, and we have escaped. Our help is in the name of the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 124: 1, 4-8).
Lord, get us up above the world. Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly dove, and mount and bear us on Thy wings, far from these inferior sorrows and inferior joys, up where eternal ages roll. May we ascend in joyful contemplation and may our spirit come back again, strong for all its service, armed for all its battles, armoured for all its dangers, and made ready to live heaven on earth, until... we shall live heaven in heaven.
Great Father, be with Thy waiting people. Any in great trouble, do Thou greatly help. Any that are despondent, do Thou sweetly comfort and cheer. Any that have erred and are smarting under their own sin, do Thou bring them back and heal their wounds. Any that this day are panting after holiness, do Thou give them the desire of their hearts. Any that are longing for usefulness, do Thou lead them into ways of usefulness.
Lord, we want to live while we live. We do pray that we may not merely groan out an existence here below, nor live as earthworms crawling back into our holes and dragging now and then a withered leaf with us, but oh! give us to live as we ought to live, with a new life that Thou hast put into us, with the divine quickening which has lifted us as much above common men as men are lifted above the beasts that perish.
Do not let us always be hampered like poor half-hatched birds within the egg. May we chip the shell today and get out into the glorious liberty of the children of God. Grant us this, we pray Thee.
~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon ~ 1834 -1892
Father, I stretch my hands to Thee,
No other help I know;
If Thou withdraw Thyself from me,
Ah! Whither shall I go?
On Thy dear Son I now believe
O let me feel Thy power
And all my varied wants relieve
In this accepted hour
Author of faith! to Thee I lift
My weary longing eyes
O let me now receive this gift
My soul without it dies
Surely Thou canst not let me die;
O speak, and I shall live;
And here I will unwearied lie,
Till Thou Thy Spirit give.
How would my fainting soul rejoice
Could I but see Thy face
Now let me hear Thy quickening voice
And taste Thy pardoning grace
I do believe, I now believe
That Jesus died for me.
And that He shed His precious blood
From sin to set me free
~ Charles Wesley ~ Published 1741
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