Witnessing Like John (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Witnessing to the light, to the love of God the coming of the Christ, the coming of the new day ...
Witnessing to the light, to the love of God the coming of the Christ, the coming of the new day ...
We should remember, her story, her acts of faith out of her poverty, her little, meager resources she offers lessons ...
All of the work, the story, the steps of my life, my path all is loss. For I was separated, ...
Rising as the judge entered Standing beside her, in her cause fighting for her, for their safety even in closure; ...
We, today, building the church in our place, our meagerness little by little, proclaiming his name sharing out of our ...
A prayer of a loving father our brother our hope calling to us, from the word from his heavenly throne ...
The story doesn't expressly say, but they appeared to be walking home despondent perhaps, sad certainly, confused or so said ...
An epiphany moment, tears in the backyard for his moment, opening his heart to the ever-present grace of our living, ...
His testimony, not on the stand, no court of law. He stood in the river, on the riverbank proclaiming his ...
We are all carrying, in our hearts a treasure of faith, rich, good treasure which cannot be taken, not like ...
Paul is calling us, pleading with us to be who we can be, in service to the calling the Great ...
Rich memories flood with scents cascades of moments of family and fun wrapped in the smells of our lives May ...
With tears pouring down my face, washing down into my mouth wide open singing, praying, believing in the power of ...
More than the words written and treasured the words of the reformed apostle, shared with Jew and gentile, were the ...
He was our witness, one of our elders, telling a tapestry reading the threads of the story different fibers woven ...
His is the abject lesson, the proof in the seeing, the touching, the questioning the believing by his eyes, his ...
A legal argument, brick by brick, in Testimony from many witnesses those who knew him, his blood, his kin, named ...
The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot "Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et ...
My beloved called to me to come and see Steve's tears, he was crying on TV; Steve Irwin, The Crocodile ...
"Lord, being dark," I said, "I cannot bear The further touch of earth, the scented air; Lord, being dark, forewilled ...
Reubens, river of forgetfulness, garden of sloth, Pillow of wet flesh that one cannot love, But where life throngs and ...
When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold itself but pours its abundance without selection into every nook ...
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