Missing Fountain City

It’s colder than ice today.  Single digits.  (Hasn’t New York heard it’s spring?)  But the song with which we’ll open our collective worship time is in my head and on my heart already.  Even though no self-respecting fountain in Kansas City would be running today in this frigidity, God is the fountain.

God is the fountain whence ten thousand blessings flow.
To Him my life, my health, my friends, and every good I owe.

The comforts He affords are neither few nor small.
He is the Source of fresh delight–my Comfort, and my All.

He fills my  heart with joy.  My lips attune for praise.
And to His glory I’ll devote the remnant of my days.

-Benjamin Beddome, 1817

Good to remember that He is the source–the “fountain” of blessing.  Also probably good to be “forced” to say things like “I’m readying my mouth for praise” and “I’ll devote the rest of my life” even when those are goals to which we call ourselves more than stark realities.

Father, forgive me for craving spring and sun and thinking about nice things like flowing fountains in Kansas City when so many places in Libya and in the Far East are just craving basic safety.


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