My blessed Jesus, there is no comfort that compares to your’s when we are troubled. These beautiful words of an old hymn say it right. “There’s a place where my soul ever feels a repose, that the world and it’s joys cannot give, where the blessings of heaven their sweetness disclose, and in answer to prayer I receive. ‘Tis the house of the Lord, ‘tis the Christian’s retreat, where I oft get a glimpse of the goal. ‘Tis the foot of the cross, ‘ tis the dear mercy seat, ’tis the place I find rest for my soul.” My what a blessing, after all of these years, to still feel the same. In your holy name, Jesus, I pray. Amen.
-- Sheila Bennett
Readers -- ministers, rabbis, priests and laypersons alike are invited to contribute prayers to this daily feature. Mail them to “Prayer,” The Telegraph, P.O. Box 4167, Macon, GA 31213; or fax to (478) 744-4385; or email email@example.com.
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