Refuge, by Sara Teasdale From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality. Acts 16: 25-34 March 31, 2019 First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL Christina Berry This fourth Sunday in Lent in our series on Wholehearted Worship, we’ve come to the practice of singing. We’ve talked about the call to worship and the prayer of confession, and how you can begin each day with a call to worship, and end each day with the prayer of examen. Last week we discussed the importance of prayer, and those three all-important prayers we all can make: “Help! Thanks! and Wow!” Today we hear a story from the book of the Acts of the Apostles, recounting one of the adventures that the Apostle P...
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