40

I shared this one before. Not mine, not even U2’s originally…

Originally from a now nameless writer several thousand years ago. What language was it even written in?

No matter. The words ate timeless in their comfort and hope. From Psalm 40.

“I wait for the Lord, he inclines and hears my cry; he lift me up out of the pit, out of the myre and clay…

And I will sing a new song of praise to the Lord…”

Something like that. Each minute. Each hour. Each day. Something like that.

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