Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.”

Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf be unstopped.  Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy.  Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.  The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs.  In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow. 

And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness.  The unclean will not journey on it; it will be for those who walk in that Way; wicked fools will not go about on it.  No lion will be there, nor will any ferocious beast get up on it; they will not be found there.  But only the redeemed will walk there, and the ransomed of the Lord will return.  They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads.  Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.  Isaiah 35 3-10

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.  Let the redeemed of the Lord say this-those he redeemed from the hand of the foe, those he gathered from the lands, from east and west, from north and south.

Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle.  They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away.  They they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress.  He led them by a straight way to a city where they could settle.  Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the hungry with good things.  Psalm 107 1-9

Lord my words are but wooden arrows to a speeding locomotive and I am no giant slayer.  Though I paint myself the warrior, I sometimes peer from safest perch while others stand against the throng.  Turning with eyes closed to stem the tears, my hands wringing finger holes in my shirt and all I can muster is prayer for the dying.  I hope that you can make something of me, this lumpish clay, destined to conform to whatever pressures it most.

I hide my colors, for they reveal the truth internal, telling of my tin shield and store-bought  safety.  While they should be raised to honor God, I seek stealth of assassin, burglar or snake.  Show me to be of the fiber which called the universe to be and it could do not but answer.  Let me command, not just myself but the wicked to retreat.  Give me a story that depends on You for its entirety, where I am a recipient to joy not my own, but jubilant none-the-less.  Let me pass the first veil with a smile and Your name upon my lips and heart at my passing.  Let me be a man who become a son to God.  Praise Your Glory for time immemorial.  Amen.