My song of praise ascends:
"The Lord kills and brings to life;
he brings down to Sheol
and raises up . . . he lifts
the needy from the ash heap . . .
but the wicked shall be cut off
in darkness . . . against them
he will thunder in heaven . . .
There is none holy like the Lord . . .
my strength is exalted in him."
I will carry Samuel's coat to Shiloh,
stitches of love spell joy;
my heart dances with delight.
My son grows in stature,
his service is unto the Lord.
My tormentor's tongue is stilled,
she eats defeat day after day.
Her downcast eyes look
past my sons and daughters.
The Lord has opened my womb.
I Samuel, Chapter 2, RSV
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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