Prelude: Proverbs 21:1 The king’s heart is like 

channels of water in the hand of Yahweh; He 

turns it wherever He pleases. – LSB           

Beyond the surface of skin—if we peer to the core,

An ocean of water is therein contained.

But due to the depth and the murk in between,

The human heart is not with ease explained.

We can build our dams and our walls of stone,

To try and contain what was made to flow free.

But what was made to flow free under care divine,

Will cause only vexation with unjust decree.

Why then do we cry when the water is stagnant,

Why do we then grieve at the stench?

Is it not our own folly that turns sea to swamp,

And our own fists that stir the filth when they clench? 

With this our own stirring a storm begins brewing,

And, again, we cry with alarm and dismay.

With eyes that are darkened, we can’t see the cause,

And we turn those clenched fists up to God when we pray.

Alas, if we spurn Him, the One Who calms tempests,

His enemy may hear the ado from afar.

With his skill the weather will only grow darker,

And we look in vain for one glimmering star.

Perhaps at this juncture we come to our senses,

Drops of wisdom divine cause our eyes to unclose.

For the torrent is evil and not of His making,

But rain of His own corrects where the wave flows.

For ancient kings had their hearts in His handling,

Their streams of desire He directed at will.

If we later come and are lesser than they were,

We can rest in His care—His plans He’ll fulfill.

Perhaps after all we are not so much smaller,

We are priests and kings in our very own way.

Yet, always we’re subject to Jesus in heaven,

The King of kings Who turns night into day.

O’ Prince Of Peace may you calm every storm

That rages in all these hearts made of clay.

For though of frail nature, they hold a vast ocean,

On the surface of which all You’re ships love to play.

May You send your vessels to watch our broad waters,

Your Winds will blow currents to flow in Your will.

If this we allow we’ll know healing from blunders,

The only death needful—the old nature to kill.

O’ Rock Of The Ages pray build us strong ramparts,

Lighthouses to shine o’er each watery expanse.

With your great provision, no darkness prevaileth,

May we never more trust the caprices of chance.

Father, pour from Your throne the fresh waters of life,

May they cascade and flow to the sea of our heart.

May we always be wakeful in the lighthouse you gave us,

And with the power you shower may we do our just part.

Our just part to be wise and wakeful with oil in abundance,

Nevermore to drowse with the foolish virgin.

If we thus do seek you and love life divine,

Stagnation will fly before new fruit to burgeon.

Neither must we fear waves that buffet the bulwarks,

We know You have built them to last evermore.

They’ll be firm when you ride in on cloud like the lightning,

Rewards in Your hand—eternal pleasures in store.