Dawn. Dew. Mist.

How will I spend the hours in this day you have given to me, O Lord? Will I sit and await the tomorrow that will never come?

You have given me, your child, treasure. Let me not hoard it, but instead spend and share.

(Letter #2,637)

Doing your will, I never exhaust your supply.

Speaking your words, I am never speechless.

Going your way, I am never lost.

You will not forsake me, Lord, and I shall live close to you.

Let me do your will today.

(Letter #2,636)

These fields have no walkways; only the tracks deer have made. Are these game trails fit to walk? And ever yet I am led by the hand down them.

Let me do your will, Lord. Be with the creatures; dine with the weary; ease the afflicted.

Let even my walk into the village be an adventure, Lord.

(Letter #2,635)

One drop, in a trickling stream through a grassy field.

I will join a creek, then a river, the sea. I may support a mighty barge, crash against a pier and storms.

The sun may take me up, and I may rain down on a field and find my way to a stream.

Lord, let me be your river.

(Letter #2,634)