Pastoral Prayer inspired by an Isaac Watts hymn

O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast,
and our eternal home

We sing this song and often don’t stop to remember the ages before we were born. You’ve been with this church in war and in peace, in times that felt like blessing and in times that felt like persecution. We are amazed at your constancy and that more than this physical space, you are our sacred space and inheritance.

Under the shadow of thy throne,
thy saints have dwelt secure;
sufficient is thine arm alone,
and our defense is sure.

We pray for travel safety for Charley and Mindy as they are in Denver attending the Bienniel meeting of the American Baptist Churches and for those of our congregation who travel this holiday weekend. We pray for those who are ill, who struggle with pain, who require your healing and protection. Especially we pray for Al Sherring as he recovers from surgery.

Before the hills in order stood,
or earth received her frame,
from everlasting thou art God,
to endless years the same.

Once again our nation is at war. It is easy for us to claim you are on our side as we battle for justice. Help us to know those we battle as our brothers and sisters. Surely you love us as you love them for we are all your children. May we find ways to minister to their needs, to hear their cries of injustice, to work for peace in your world.

A thousand ages in thy sight
are like an evening gone;
short as the watch that ends the night
before the rising sun.

It’s hard to think in your time frame. We are so rooted in the present moment. Teach us the discipline of patience as we wait for your spirit in our midst.

Some in our midst are hungry, some have no home, some have no job, some daily face the injustices of racism and discrimination because they aren’t like people with food, with a home, with a job, with power. Help us to be impatient for your justice, to seek it urgently for those to suffer in our midst.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
they fly, forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.

Some of us grieve, O God, because people we love are not with us. Help them take comfort in you, but help us to be with them in their grieving.

O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
be thou our guide while troubles last,
and our eternal home!