Birds find nooks and crannies in your house, sparrows and swallows make nests there. They lay their eggs and raise their young, singing their songs in the place where we worship. GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies! King! God! How blessed they are to live and sing there! And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn—Zion! God in full view! GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies, listen: O God of Jacob, open your ears—I’m praying! Look at our shields, glistening in the sun, our faces, shining with your gracious anointing. One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I’d rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin. All sunshine and sovereign is GOD, generous in gifts and glory. He doesn’t scrimp with his traveling companions. It’s smooth sailing all the way with GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies.
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