Dead Reckoning

I mentioned in class that I’d written a ten page climax for this next week’s chapter. I plan to edit it and see what I can do with the length, but I was asked to post it unedited. Here it is. Tell me what you think. I’m currently working on looking up some things for historical accuracy, honestly it’s extremely difficult to get your hands on basic information about Victorian society unless you are looking up the upper crust!

I woke up with a jumpy feeling Friday morning. I expected Frederick to propose. Each one of his letters had been increasingly sincere, increasingly earnest. While I honestly felt the sincerity too sudden, I had known plenty of people to become engaged quickly and yet marry into a healthy relationship. I tended toward caution, but perhaps he was merely one of those swifter types.


However normal it might be, however often we wrote each other, I had only seen him in person twice. To me, what I knew of his public reputation was not enough. What I had read in his many letters was not enough. Only his demeanor face-to-face could determine true his character.


“Ella,” Isabella sat next to me at breakfast. “You’ve hardly eaten a bite.”


“My stomach is uneasy today.” I replied.


“Love sick?”


“Or stressed.” I replied. I’d been in love before and I knew my usual physical reactions. I would be shaky and short-of-breath. But not sleeping or eating with a complaining stomach? This had never happened to me before. It wasn’t from an overly tight corset either, in fact my stomach felt better when I put on the corset this morning.

        I made petty mistakes all day as I worked. Though I felt excited and happy, it was a little forced. I knew that I should be excited and happy, but in the pit of my stomach I felt stressed and frightened. The more I thought of it, the more I expected it. “I’ll ask your mother’s permission.” When he said that I’d assumed he meant about the opera, but he could have asked for my hand.


“Ella,” My mother tapped my shoulder.


“Yes?” I turned to look up from my sewing machine.


“You can finish up for today. I’ve had an early dinner made for you. You’re Aunt Louisa is coming over shortly to help you get ready, and of course to chaperone you.”


“Thank you!” I smiled gratefully as I rose from my chair. At least my mother’s great concern over my courtship made her give me special consideration.


My stomach felt uneasy as I ate my porridge. I tried to down the whole bowl, but I couldn’t manage the last few bites. Holding my stomach awkwardly I walked to the washroom. I remembered throwing up out of stress before I’d seen someone once about a year back. I found myself doing the same again. It was mild, not the way it feels when you have a virus, but I still felt shaky and weak afterwards.


Aunt Louisa arrived as I had made my way to my room. Mother had laid her gown out on the bed for me. It was indeed lovely.


“Ella!” Aunt Louisa embraced me warmly. “It’s good to see you again!”


“Good to see you too!” I smiled at her, and then began taking off my work dress.


“Let me tighten up your corset a bit for that dress.”

My heart warmed around her. “Thank you. I’m glad you could come. Goodness knows how many times you’ve been my support and stay during courtships.” I laughed, “You’ve saved me from so many awkward moments, or helped me to have a private word if I needed one.”


“Oh Ella, I’m just sorry I can’t be around you more often.” She gave the corset strings one last tug and tied them. “I wish we could arrange our schedules better, but your work is one of heavy hours, and my children need me.”


“As much as I don’t mind my work,” I paused as I found my way through the deep red silk of the gown. “I do wish we could spend more time together.” I adjusted the cloth over my crinoline in the front and Aunt Louisa tidied the bustle and managed the buttons.


“Well,” she sat me down in a stool before the dresser. “You can always write me.” She carefully put up my hair for me. “You look lovely. Now close your eyes.”


I heard the rattle of beads and felt them against my neck.


“Pearls for a beautiful lady,” She stood back and looked at me with a warm smile. “Now, I do believe I hear carriage wheels!”


“Oh, my lady!” Frederick exclaimed as I came into the street. “You look beautiful!” He bowed.


“My Aunt Louisa,” I motioned toward her.


“What an honor!” He bowed and kissed her hand.


“The pleasure is mine,” She passed a glance at me and we laughed internally.


As we entered the theatre he took my arm. Leaning a bit close to me he said in an undertone, “Indeed, your fashion taste is most interesting. I cannot wait to see more.”


I smiled at him, and probably thanked him. But I remember feeling a cold insecurity. The comment could have been harmless enough, but it also could have meant something inappropriate. His manner of speech hinted at no innocence.


As I expected, he treated me with utmost gentility through the evening. I gaped as he led me to a box seat. True it was one toward the back, and certainly not the best in the house, but I knew it must have been quite a feat to attain these tickets.


“Of course I provide you with only the best,” his little smirk attempted to smooth over my shock.

In spite of my best attempts to show interest in the opera I found it dull. We watched each other in sideways glances, but a number of times I found him blatantly gazing at me. At last I leaned towards him and spoke in a low whisper.

“Do you expect me to sit completely composed with you staring at me so?”


“I won’t stare at you,” he gave me a smile he meant to be most reassuring, but somehow I doubted him.


At intermission he took me downstairs to a parlor of the common guests. I say common. It was the parlor for those of the working class, but of course was quite fine.


“Let me provide you with refreshments,” Frederick vanished from us as we entered the room.


I felt strangely out of place. I had never been with such people before. As much as my mother’s family had once been in this rank before hard times had come, and I had come on the arm of a successful man, I didn’t feel completely comfortable. Almost every woman or girl in fancy attire compares herself to the others in the room, and none of them judge lightly. I didn’t particularly care for their approval, but it brought a bit of tension.


“Mrs. Davidson,” Frederick was offering Aunt Louisa refreshments as she sat on a couch a yard from where I stood. They conversed for a moment but the noise in the room averted my hearing.


“My dear,” he came to my side and offered a small plate. “Enjoy yourself.”


“Ah, I confess I find myself unable to eat this evening.” I smiled at him, a laugh playing on my lips.


“Why?” He raised an eyebrow.


“You know my stomach grows uneasy if I’m tense. But really, do you expect me to eat in front of you?” My laugh broke, and then I spoke in an undertone. “I vomited at dinner.”


“Well, I too am in a rather excited state, but I can at least eat.” He popped a tart into his mouth.


I watched him as he stood there nonchalantly munching. I wondered when he would propose. He could have just been asking Aunt Louisa for a private audience. But we began heading to our seats before he had said anything. I felt relieved in a way, but at the same time had the urgent feeling that I wanted him to get it over with. As I thought he paused and led me into a side gallery. Aunt Louisa stayed out in the hall. Everything I had been mulling over for the past week would suddenly be decided.


“Ella, my darling,” Frederick knelt and took my hands. “Beloved, beautiful lady. I would be honored, overwhelmed, if you would do me the great honor of marrying me.”

“I-” nothing came out. The past hour had been saying yes, but suddenly I felt wholly confused and wanted to say no. “Oh, please! Do excuse me! Pray forgive! May I have the rest of the evening to think on it?”


His face fell, but me smoothed it as he rose to his feet. “Of course my dear. you may have all the time you need.” He gently led me out of the room with his hand around my back.


I shifted tensely as I listened to the shrill voices of the singers. Opera indeed was not my taste. Frederick was still gazing at me. I nervously glanced in the direction of Aunt Louisa. Concealing my alarm at seeing her dozing off, I quietly moved from my seat to wake her. She had never fallen asleep on such an occasion before. But as I rose, Frederick stood up and pulled me to the back of the box.


“Have you decided?” He leaned close to me.


“Yes,” I whispered sharply. But before I had any time to declare my intentions he had pulled me into a kiss.


My memory here is a mixture of blur and complete clarity. I can remember almost every detail of some moments, and hardly anything else of others.


He had cornered me in the back of the box. He had one arm around me, the other on the wall, and the shadows concealed us completely.


Whatever doubt in my mind that had been there before vanished. When he at last gave me a moment’s breathe I gasped. “No! The answer is no!”


He drew his face back from me a bit, but did not pull back his arms. “No? No? After all that I offer you? When I invite you to a world that no one else could give you?”


No one else can give me? Who does he think he is?


“Why do you refuse me?” he continued, growing a bit heated. “Have I not filled your every passionate desire of your heart?”

I grabbed for an answer, my mind had become scattered and frantic. “It is not right! I feel unsafe!” I felt completely idiotic.

“Oh, but God predestine’s our every action. If He lets it happen, it must be right.”

His perversion of scripture horrified me.

“What? Were David and Bathsheba right?” I gasped at him.

“How can something that makes you feel this good be bad?” He leaned in and stole another kiss.

I winced backward. “No. No.”

“Oh, shame shame on you Ella. Shame that you refuse such a perfect match. I’d wanted to keep you all for myself, but you’ll bring in plenty of money as you are.”

I remember thanking the strangeness of society for the safety of that corset as he drew his arms around me.

NP5 – Up Anchor

This is chapter three of the novel project. Ella Middleton is a young seamstress of 21, the same age as Queen Victoria, living in London, England. Her father passed away when she was 17 and was never a safe guard for choosing a husband. Her mother has now been throwing her way every moneyed man she can find. Ella, however is determined to find true love, and has so far resisted the match-making process, to spite her loneliness and longing to marry. Her mother has tried again to throw a gentleman her way, what will he be like, and how will Ella react?

He tipped his hat to me as I stepped out of the cab. My spirit quailed. I can’t explain what made me give such a reaction, but I immediately distrusted the man. I’d seen a pair of dark eyes beneath that hat brim and a smile full of mischief  which I later described as a smirk. By the time I had reached the steps he had disappeared into the church.

After the service I found him leaning on a porch column with his top hat over his brow. “Miss Middleton,” He swept off his hat and bowed. “Fredrick Williamson at your service.”

I curtsied in response. As he looked up from the bow our eyes met. The smirk dropped from his lips and he genuinely smiled.

“I was told to meet you here.” I began, feeling a bit awkward.

“And I came to seek you.” He studied my face. “You are indeed as beautiful as I have been told.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks flushed. I could tell from his eyes that his compliment was honestly meant. “And how many girls do you compliment in a day?”

He scoffed playfully, quite taken aback. “What?”

“I saw you complimenting two other ladies this morning.”

“I assure you,” He said, trying to quiet his little smirk. “I only complement a lady I find deserving.”

“And how many is that?” I had begun to enjoy our playful tete-a-tete. I realized now that sometimes his smirk meant he was blushing and trying not to grin.

He scoffed again. “You- I-” his smirk broke and widened. He wiped his hand over his mouth, as if to wipe away the smirk. “I am usually not so stumped by a lady’s words.” He lost control of his face and blushed fully. He again drew his hand over his face, as if his blush was dirt to be brushed away and renewed his gaze with a freshly controlled expression.

My mind ran him over constantly, attempting to draw his character. I thought he was a bad man, but I’d been told my whole life that first impressions are often wrong. While I had never had a more intense first impression, I should let him draw his own character, right? I should let him speak for himself, should I not?

“You don’t easily trust me,” he said, stroking his chin softly as he gazed at me. “But you don’t trust anyone easily. You carry yourself with a barrier around you.” He finished and then quickly added, “As any lady should!”

I smiled at his care to make sure I understood his intent.

“And…” he added slowly, with his smirk growing again. “You don’t trust a man with a smile.”

“You are quite right in your observations.” I smiled, but it dropped from my lips and I gazed down at my gloved hands as I remembered the smile that had stolen my heart. “I’ve had bad experiences before.”

He shrugged, “We all have. Life is hard.”

I disliked his casual attitude over the comment, but he couldn’t know the depth of pain I was feeling. He had drawn a bucket from a well of hideous sadness in my heart. The last man with a smile that I had loved had left me without even a word.

“I hope that I do not seem too eager or forward. I am a man who speaks his mind and am not one to beat around the bush.” He pulled himself from leaning against the column. “It has been long since I enjoyed the pleasure of an intelligent conversation with a lady.”

“I am not a lady.”

“Yes you are. I mean the term as one of respect, not one of societal rank. If I were to call you a girl it would be either a term of endearment, and it is too early for that, or a term that denotes a lower rank. It would imply that you are younger than I, and presumably less experienced, perhaps naive  If I were to call you a woman I would unfortunately imply the common usage of the word; that you have not lived honorably enough to earn the title of lady. But if I call you a lady I hold you in the honor and respect you deserve.”

I smiled at his eloquence. My estimation of him rose more and more as we spoke. I hoped I was not merely falling sway to his charm. We continued in conversation through a cab ride home and over dinner. I learned that he loved to read as much as I did and we agreed in perspective on various historical events. By the time he stepped out the door with a sweeping bow I was leaning on the door frame, blushing. Perhaps my wait for a husband had finally ended.

NP3 – Chapter One – Self Anchored

This is chapter one of the novella project for the class. This is a historical novel set in Victorian England in 1840.  Ella Middleton is a seamstress working in her family shop with other girls like her.

I liked to think. That was one thing that I loved about my work. I could sit for hours over my sewing machine and sift through my endless thoughts. My father used to say that he wished my clothes could talk. “What a story they would tell!” I would laugh at him and say, “I hope they speak with discretion. I wouldn’t want my inmost thoughts known to just anyone, much less one of the dim-witted ladies of high society that I sew for.” He would smile, “I think you sew with enough discernment to pass it into the character of your clothing.” Then he would usually say, “But one day you’ll meet a real person who will listen to all those thoughts and he will be a lucky man indeed.”

I wanted to believe that he was right. My heart was sick with loneliness, my spirit weary from too many years of self-reliance, and I longed for a listening ear. My father had died when I was 17 and put off my “going out” for a year while I mourned. I still miss our evening conversations by the fire. In a way I find it a blessing for him that he did not live to see those days. He didn’t have to witness my lack of success in the courting sphere. At the same time I longed for his steady reassurance as well as his discernment.

My mother only aimed me toward moneyed men. I knew she meant well. She had grown up in the low working class and married into the low working class. Though she had lived well, she longed for me to have the freedom to choose my own lifestyle. She wanted me to have the time to raise my own children instead of working constantly and sending them away for schooling. She didn’t understand my love for the work as she was too concerned that it paid little. However well founded that dream was, she took it too far. If she met a successful businessman she would throw him at me regardless of character. Most of them were decent but not compatible.

This story is about the season during which I turned 21 and the year when Queen Victoria married Prince Albert. While society rejoiced in the match, I couldn’t help but feel pressure from many people. Victoria and I were born on the same day and therefore everyone I knew felt like comparing us. In a way I felt a kinship to her, but I sometimes resented the comparison that came from our identical age. This year it hurt more. A number of my friends and elders believed I thought myself too good for marriage and foolish because of the choices I had made.

I was in the front of dress shop just after opening one morning. The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. When she walked through the door the sunlight caught it. Those curls couldn’t decide if they were blond or red. Then our eyes met. She had a beautiful innocent face and we knew at once that we were friends. She smiled at me and walked toward me, kneading her hands a bit.

“Hello,” She curtsied.

“Welcome to Middleton Dressmakers,” I curtsied in return. “What may I do for you?”

“Well,” She shifted her feet nervously. “I’m going out this season and I’ve found that your shop provides the most excellent fashion.”

I wondered if she’d practiced that sentence. She said it so carefully. “Thank you!” I smiled warmly, trying to make her more comfortable. “Please, come and look at the work from our various seamstresses.”

“Oh,” she grabbed my hand, a look of fear filled her eyes. “What is your name?”

“Ella Middleton,” I replied, puzzled.

“Let me just choose you. I’ve been told you are the best in the shop. My friends have used you before.” She blurted quickly. “I-I’m so nervous.” She let go of my hand quickly and looked down.

“I’d be honored!” I smiled. “Don’t be afraid! Going out isn’t too dreadful, although I suppose I’m not one to talk as I haven’t succeeded in these past few years.”

Juliette smiled understandingly and I led her to choose from fabrics and styles. We had become friends and I knew that this season would be one of excitement and a lot of hard labor. I’d never done a wardrobe by myself, though I was old enough, and never for one so rich as Juliette appeared to be.

CW 11 – Railroad Between The Lives


They both reached the railroad at the same time. George flopped down on the track, his face reflecting his foggy mood, which matched the day. Jess delicately took a seat on the other track, carefully adjusting her skirt across her knees.

“What sort of dark cloud is hanging over you today?” She asked with a smile. “Perhaps I can brush it away.”

“Yeah, right. Just brush away the grades on my last six weeks of math tests.” He shrugged, taking off his hat and resting his elbows loosely on his knees.

“Oh come on George! A math class isn’t the end of the world.” Jess laughed cheerfully.

“Easy for you to say. You act it.” George looked at his hands and fiddled with his coal-grey hat.

“George,” Jess brushed back her bands and leaned forward. “It’s ok. You don’t need to have perfect grades to be secure in who you are.”

“Says the girl who makes extra credit.” He fidgeted with his hands.  “I don’t mean to be rude, or brush off what you’re saying, but I don’t think you understand.”

Jess brushed back her bangs in contemplation before beginning again. “Surely there’s something else you can dwell on! Did you ask out that girl you mentioned?”

“. . .No,” his shoulders drooped even more. “She’s too good for me. I don’t think she’d even want to go out.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she would! You can’t give up without trying!”

“But she doesn’t see me that way. When I’ve tried to bring it up she just misses the point entirely.” He grew a little heated, coming out of his complacently wilted mood.

“Then stop beating around the bush!” She felt uncomfortable as she tried to be gentle with her prodding.

George was silent for a moment. “It would be awkward now.”

Jess tried to give a comeback, but it took a while in coming. As she sat in thought all his comments came together. She slowly ran her fingers through her bangs and took a deep breath as she began. “. . .you mean me, don’t you?”

George started back, abashed. “Well, I didn’t want to put you on the spot! Since we’re already close, it might make everything all weird.”

“Oh come on, George!” Jess blushed and laughed. “I wouldn’t have spent every afternoon talking to you if I didn’t at least like you a little bit! Of course I’ll go out with you!”

CW6 – The Ballad of The Dying Swan

A young princess danced beside a lake

Many years ago

Her graceful form was mirrored

In the water’s gentle flow

But as she danced unaware

A shadow crossed the lake

A sorcerer masque as an owl

Her gentle shape to cruelly take

A swan by day, a maid by night

He cursed her and her maids

Her human form is now only seen

By the light of the moon, or as the twilight fades

* * *

Opulent visitors from far and wide

Came to celebrate the day

The prince had come of age

To take the throne today

Laughter of company and clinking of goblets

Echoed through the air

Dancers frolicked through the courtyard

With grace beyond compare

Prince Siegfried greeted every guest

Honored that they had come

And thanked them for the praise they gave

Of the king he would become

Trumpets called the Queen’s entry

A hush washed over the crowd

She entered with her vast attendance

Siegfried knelt and bowed.

“You seem at easer among your friends

But let me tell you this:

Now that you make take the throne

I wish to cause you bliss!

“Tomorrow at your birthday ball

Of ladies far and wide

I wish and command that you choose

From among them a lovely bride.”

Glances passed among the girls

Who had come to celebrate.

Some stepped forward boldly,

Others blushed in debate.

Waving her hand

The queen turned away.

“But there is no one I love!”

Siegfried cried out in dismay.

She wavered and said,

“Would your kingship you lose

On the fancy of love?

No, my son, you must choose!”

Dismay clouded his countenance

As whispers passed through the girls

Descriptions of dresses and the color of shoes

To make up, and how to fix curls

Eager to cheer him, his friends gathered round

But his closest friend drew him aside

“Perhaps your majesty would favor a hunt

And not worry over choosing a bride?”

Absently taking his leave

Siegfried gathered his hunting gear

Hoping that hunting for swans

Would help his snarled mind clear

He fought to untangle the mire of his thoughts

As he followed the swans’ flight

So distracted that he paid no heed

To the dying of the light

Till before him was a mirror of silver

A lake bathed in the light of the moon

The swans were descending upon its glass

A gentle spray by their feet was strewn.

He stood transfixed

In wonder at the sight

“If only I could find a bride

As lovely as this night!”

What mystery is this?

A white swan with a crown?

He gazed after their leader

As she arched her head down

Her silver tiara shimmered

Upon her graceful form

She gently stepped ashore

And she began to transform

A maiden garbed in white feathers

Stood before him on the shore

Her tears glinting in the moonlight

And glancing off the feathers she wore

Rushing forth to comfort

Siegfried forgot his place

She started back with terror

Shock covering her exquisite face

“I meant no harm,”

He cried at once ashamed

“I only meant to comfort,

My rashness alone is to blame.”

“No, I was merely startled,

I thought you were my foe.”

She hung her head,

“Twas he who cursed me so.”

Her tears again dripped down,

Which she attemped to hide

Against his better will

He found himself at her side

“Maiden, you are brave,

To live as cursed as this.

Is there a way for me

To this enchantment dismiss?”

“Von Rothbart, the sorcerer

Cast this evil spell

That true loves pledge

Would free me from this hell.

“But if he is unfaithful

The spell will never break

And Von Rothbart has promised

That very day my life to take.”

So touched with grief, he embraced her

And confiding his own plight,

He begged for her to come

To be his choice the following night.

So enraptured in each other’s love

They talked the night away

And noticed not the growing light

Or the coming of the day

Till her form was suddenly altered

And as a swan she soon returned

Now eager for the night to come

Siegfried towards his castle turned.

Paying no heed to the party

Siegfried hardly noticed the guests

He hardly noticed the pretty girls

Or his mother’s frequent requests

Only when thunder crashed through the hall

Did he awaken from his dreaming

As a Count appeared with his daughter

In a gown of black feathers gleaming.

So caught up in rapture

He disregarded the feathers of inky hue

Taken in by Von Rothbarts plot

His daughter could effortlessly woo

Odile, Rothbart’s daughter

Had taken on a disguise

Distracting the prince with her beauty

From a nearby swan’s pleading cries

She whirled him over the ballroom floor

In a rapturous, vivacious dance

Pressing him to declare his love

While she held him beneath her trance

Pulling him close just before the sunset

She whispered her love in his ear

So full of romance he shouted aloud

His love so that all might hear

A piercing cry rent the hall

As it tore from the lips of Oddette

Alarmed Siegfried looked up

To see his love’s silhouette

Oh that she had the wings of a swan

So that she could fly away

But even wings would not help her escape

The death that would follow that day

His heart capsized within his chest

Guilt overwhelming him with regret

But this treacherous trick would not stop him

From rescuing his beloved Oddette

The thundering laughter of Rothbart

Resonated through the room

He rejoiced in the unhappy fate

Of Oddette’s coming doom

Unheeding of this evil

Siegfried dashed away

His companion giving him a sword

Should the rescue cause a fray

Dumb-founded that the prince would fight

Van Rothbart took to owl form

And beating his heavy wings

Called for with magic a storm

Oddette ran into the night

Drowning in the flood of her tears

Her dread was finally realized

After waiting all of these years

Siegfried found her

Crumpled on the lake’s shore.

He implored for her forgiveness

“I will defend you!” he swore.

Drawing his noble blade

He faced the on coming tempest

With only love to fight magic

Fear pounded up in his chest

Rothbart flew down at him

In a furry of vehement rage

But Seigfried passionate love

Gave him all the strength to assuage

Raising his blade, he struck the owl

Casting him into the lake

Using the storm against him

Rothbart’s magic became his mistake

The waters swarmed around him

And his fowl form consumed

To this day he lies

In those dark waters entombed

Freed from her curse

Oddette embraced the dawn

Never again would she meet the day

In the cursed form of a swan

Carrying her back to the castle

Seigfried proclaimed the choice of his bride

And for the rest of their happy lives

They ruled side by side


Anchors of the Earth

Psalm 18:2 says that Christ is the one foundation of our faith. Christ calls us to be his body, his hands and his feet. (1st Corinthians 12) As his hands and feet we carry out his mission on earth. Like a rock, we are to anchor the world. As Christ-bearers we must hold the world to a firm foundation, the rock itself. Anchors keep ships steady, even in a raging sea. They also hold a ship where it is supposed to be, even if  it is trying to sail in the wrong direction. Like anchors we are to keep the world in the right place. We are to help the lost and keep them from being tossed like a lost boat in the raging seas of life. Like an anchor, we must be their assurance of the hope we have in the rock of Christ.

God’s Lighthouses

As Christians in this fallen and dark world, God calls us to share the His light. This makes us much like lighthouses. We must tend ourselves, always seeking new ways to shine. Like lighthouse keepers, we are constantly busy getting rid of the extra dust. Confessing our sins to God, we make sure nothing extra cakes on the outside of us obscuring out light. God also commands us never to give up, and to keep going in spite of horrible things that happen. Lighthouses mark dangerous waters, telling sailor to beware. Even so, countless ships wreck in the dangerous waters. As Christians we see many people fall into horrible circumstances, but our duty to shine God’s light never pauses. If a lighthouse stops shining the light every ship in the water is at risk. We are to be constant, and unchanging.

My God, Abide With Me

My God, Abide With Me

My God, my God! When will you save?

Make every effort to rescue me!

Many are the tears that fall for want of help.

May your comfort come quickly.

Masquerading as whole will not heal me.

Manifest your promised consolation to me.

More than the stars are your mercies.

Magnify me, that I might be consoled.


You have promised never to forsake.

Yea, you have said you will not rejectme.

Years have passed and you have not abandoned me.

Yet where can I find your presence? Have you gone?

Yield to my cry for your aid! Do not turn away!

Yearning fills the depths of my soul, because of your absence.

Your promises feel far beyond my reach.

Yahweh, do not leave me!

Romance my wandering heart, Oh God.

Rule the stumbling wars of my spirit.

Rebuke my sin.

Refuse to let me stray.

Reclaim the wayward courses of my heart.

Renew the filthy recesses of my soul.

Resonate within me, that I may not falter.

Regenerate me so that I blunder no more.

Abide with me in my sorrows,

Are you not a God who is ever present?

Arise, Oh God, and come to me.

Aidme, for you have promised to reside with me.

Accept my cry for your attendance!

Assist me, and stay at my side.

Allow me to ever be beside you.

Adorn me with the gift of your company.

Justify the righteous, Oh God!

Judge the nations of evil!

Join together your forces to eradicate the wicked.

Jeer at the annihilation of the false.

Jilt their pleasures.

Jealousy corrupts them. Condemn it!

Jesus, crush the heads of the sinful!

Jehovah, bring peace by exorcizing the malicious.

On the wicked bring judgment.

Order the wayward peoples to be cast down.

Obliterate the vile.

Offend the malicious.

Overthrow their vicious crimes.

Overwhelm the forces of evil.

Obey the Lord, ye perverse nations.

Observe the destruction of sinners.

How long will I wait for your favor?

Have my sins pushed away your compassion?

Hath not the Lord promised to forgive?

He has promised to forebear.

Hear my cry in your kindness!

Heal me out of your wondrous mercies.

Help me! For you are a gracious God.

Hope in the benevolence of the Lord.

Nothing satisfies my yearning.

No amount of tears will quench my longing.

Never will my zeal find respite.

None of my pleasures will satiate my desires.

Neither assuage the thirst in my heart.

Nor do the comforts of my friends quiet the cries within me.

Not even my prayers content me.

Night replaces my craving to be fulfilled.

Surely the Lord is not too far to rescue!

So many cry out to be unchained!

Save us, Oh God!

Send help to us.

Sin strangles our efforts.

Sever our bonds!

Set us free!

Show us your promised redemption.

Touch the weak out of your compassion.

Tender, are the ways of the Lord.

Tremendous, is the amount of his kindness.

Teach us gently to walk in your way.

Thy mercies are many to behold.

The sweetness of the Lord is astonishing.

Too many to number, are his blessings.

Tell the nations of his glorious care!

Oh God, pour out your blessing upon this starving world.

Open the floodgates of heaven. Rain mercies on the land.

Overflow miracles in the land of the righteous.

Observe our sorrows and rescue us!

Old and young, hearten alike.

Only you can fulfill the needs of mankind.

Of all the places to turn, you only can satisfy.

Oblige the calls of your people to save them.

New sorrows afflict your children each morn.

Needy ones cry out.

Nurse the wounds of your creatures.

Narcissism encircles us and tempts us.

Nihilism calls to our weakness.

Noiselessly, troubles assail them.

Now come lift the burdens of your people.

Nobly, you will banish our toils.