Sheltering Mercy by Ryan Whitaker Smith and Dan Wiltनमूना

# Psalm 1 # River Tree Lord, Your presence is life to me: joy of my heart; strength of my soul. Grant me the grace to walk in Your ways; to cherish Your friendship over the fellowship of the fallen, soul-shaped as I am by the company I keep— pressed and formed, for good or for ill. I refuse to march with those who mock Your mercy; who revel in the unraveling of sacred things. They stumble down trackless wastes, training others in the ways of their wandering. But You will be my delight, Lord; Your Word, my mirth and meal— and I like an oak, drawing strength from fertile soil, growing in grace, safe in the circumference of Your mercy. So I will flourish, a river tree drinking from the deep— fruit heavy on my branches; leaves thrumming with life. Though seasons shift around me, I will stand. The godless are lifeless: withered stalks, bent by the wind; such are those who shun Your mercy. They forfeit seats at Your table, refusing Your wedding garments; choosing nakedness over grace. I won’t be counted among them— not while Your River rushes for my good. Lead me, Lord, strength upon strength, that at the end of my days, I may look back and wonder at the manifold mercy of God.