Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
The first three words of this poem describe me. (Really, it's only the word "fearful," as describing myself as a saint is a bit of a stretch.) No matter. I am fearful. I am fearful for family members who are undergoing hard times. I am fearful for the state of our nation, our world.
As I read these beautifully penned words, though, I am reminded that the Lord is in charge, that He knows the end from the beginning, that I need not fear if I remain faithful to Him.
So, for today, I am grateful for "fresh courage."