Praise the Lord, ye People! Shout to God with a voice of triumph. Sing alleluia. With a voice of triumph declare the glory of the Lord. Rejoice with glad thanksgiving sing out with one accord. Proclaim to every nation, praise God forevermore. Lift high with exaltation the glory of the Lord. With a voice of triumph, rejoice this sacred day! Break forth with tuneful singing, with praise prepare the way! To this world that dwells in darkness, reach in love to humankind, flinging open doors of welcome, keeping open hearts and minds. Timeless words for troubled times, ageless songs for silent hearts, for these values we have gathered, all these treasures we impart. Let us consecrate our mission, let us heed the call. Let us dedicate our purpose, let us give our hearts, our minds, our all. Sing alleluia!
For some who pray expecting an answer, it takes a long time to learn that delays of answers are not denials. There are deep secrets of love and wisdom that we have never imagined awaiting us. We tend to want to pick our blessings from the tree while they are still green, yet God wants us to wait until they’re fully ripe. Do not doubt His love. Instead, lift up your eyes and begin praising Him right now for the deliverance that is on its way to you. Then you’ll be abundantly rewarded for the delay that has tried your faith. - L. B. Cowman
Technique: Oo (12b12b12b1--1717171--12b1712b1712b171)
Purpose: Ear Training
A young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to helping the other monks in copying by hand the old canons and laws of the church. He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies not from the original manuscript. So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies. The head monk, says, "We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son." He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn't been opened for hundreds of years. Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot. So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him. He sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing. "We missed the R ! We missed the R ! We missed the R !" His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably. The young monk asks the old abbot, "What's wrong, father?" With a choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word was CELEBRATE!"