Praise like cascading waters, like rushing rivers, Praise like flying birds, and flight of eagles. Praise like thundering herds cross vast expanse. Praise written cross skies in clouds and drifting mists. Praise with the quaking aspen. Praise golden and blissful.
Praise to the heavens, to the highest heavens. Heartfelt and hallowed, on angels’ wings and from the mouths of babes. Hush; listen in silence. Creation, on tip toe, peering beyond Time to Eternity. Time poised on the brink of the Eternal, awaiting Your Word.
Praise from the heart, one poor and yearning heart. Come, O Immortal. Come!
No one can chain the Word of God. Our bishops couldn’t have picked a more appropriate reading for this day, if they tried. Even slaves, those in chains and the persecuted can preach it. So preach it, People. Preach it!
My beloved, obedient as you have always been, not only when I am present but all the more now when I am absent, work out your salvation with fear and trembling. For God is the one who, for his good purpose, works in you both to desire and to work. Do everything without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine like lights in the world, as you hold on to the word of life, so that my boast for the day of Christ may be that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. But, even if I am poured out as a libation upon the sacrificial service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with all of you. In the same way you also should rejoice and share your joy with me.