Valley of Death
VALLEY
OF DEATH
Psalms
23
4
Yea,
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear
no evil: for thou art
with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
So
live, that when thy summons comes to join
The
innumerable caravan, which moves
To
that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Thanatopsis:
By
William
Cullen Bryant
We
don’t walk alone. God is always present. He is our stay in dark
times. Contentment rises not from within but anchors in Christ.
Discontent
and worry
proceed from unbelief; an uneasy
mind
is the consequence: let us then, little
sheep,
simply trust our Shepherd's care, hearken to his voice and
lay upon His shoulders your concerns and trust in His ability to
carry you away.
The
“valley of the shadow of death” looms
before every one. Saints of God and members of His Bride Church have
overcome the fear, sting and worry of death; even as, in Egypt with
Mosses,
the
shadow of the death angel passes slowly over their valley gives
peace. The blood is on the door; it has been applied. The body will
cease all movement and functions but the soul within moves into
eternal life with Christ Jesus. There will be no
dark dispensation of providence, that God’s
ellect
ever could come under.
Between
the part of the flock on earth and that which is gone to heaven,
death lurks
like a dark valley. Through
it all must trod. But
it
is only the
shadow of death: the shadow of a serpent will not sting, nor the
shadow of a sword kill. It is a valley, deep indeed, and dark, and
miry; but valleys are often fruitful, and so is death itself fruitful
of comforts to God's people. It is a walk through it: they shall not
be lost in this valley, Jesus
will lead them to the crossing of Jordan.
Death is a king of terrors, but not to the twice
born children
of Christ. They
shall die out on earth into eternal life in the hereafter. When
they come to die, God will rebuke the enemy; he will guide them with
his rod, and sustain them with his staff. There is enough in the
gospel to comfort the saints when dying, and underneath them are the
everlasting arms.
They
are anointed with Holy
Spirit, and drink of the cup of salvation which is forevermore
full. The
goodness and mercy of God will follow them all the days of their
lives and
its passing.
They
seek
their desire, determination and
happiness
in the service of God here, and they know
they shall
enjoy his love for
ever
in heaven. While here, the Lord can make any situation pleasant, by
the anointing of his Spirit and the joys of his salvation. But those
wish
to
be satisfied with the blessings of his house, must keep close to the
duties of it. Know
God, know peace. Amen 11-27-1920 BLL
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning
of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
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