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Archive for November 13th, 2009

13 – unlucky?  No.

 

 

Jericho fell on the 13th “go around”

 

 

Jesus and disciples numbered 13          

 

– eab, 10/13/09

 

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A late fall leaf hung on the tree,

Finger-nail moon hung in the sky.

They caught peripheral vision,

This early morn, as I walked by.

 

One a charming, distant white globe,

One close remnant of season past.

One has circled earth for long years

One’s existence cannot long last,

 

One gives light to a darkened world,

One gave shade in its own “hay day.”

One will flutter some day to earth,

One we all hope stays far away.

 

One has a rough man in moon face,

But it is basically all round.

One has rugged pointy edges,

Tenaciously it “hangs around.”

 

Distant giant traveling the sky,

Local leaf silhouetted there,

Were both made by our Dear Father

In powerful yet tender care.

                – eab, 11/13/09

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My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

Refrain

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Edward Mote died this date, 11/13/1874, at Horsham, Sussex, England.  He wrote “My Hope Is Built” (at the age thirty-seven).

 He was for many years a successful cabinetmaker (Jesus worked with wood).  Later Mote took a Baptist pastorate and stayed there twenty-six years.  His congregation loved him, in fact, they offered him the title to their church building.  He is reported to have said, “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit…when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”  Well said, brother.  Mott had been born 1/21/1797 at London, England.

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