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How many are my enemies,
So many rising against me;
Throwing insults with blasphemies,
Feels like it’s a third degree.
Many are saying of my soul,
That there would be no salvation;
And Heaven cannot be my goal,
Having no righteous foundation.
But the Lord is my glory shield,
He is the lifter of my head;
Knowing Him is what I must yield,
To His Word that I had been fed.
I cry aloud unto the Lord,
He answered from His Holy Hill;
As His blessings have been outpoured,
Responds to my need to refill.
I had laid down and fell asleep,
But woke up as the Lord revived;
Like a shepherd keeping His sheep,
Assured no harm and I survived.
I will not fear for the thousands,
That set themselves opposing me;
Migrants from many foreign lands,
Too blind about the truth to see.
I ask the Lord to deliver,
Smitten my foes upon their cheek:
Break the teeth of the deceiver,
Drain their strength by becoming weak.
Salvation belongs to the Lord,
His blessings be on His people;
Those who remain in one accord,
Setting to be an example.
Copyright © 2024 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Troubled Times Confidence
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