The Horn Blows.

A song of ascents.

Of Ephraim.

To Fashola.

Falling down the abyss
Yet You always lift me up.
Blind in the wilderness
Yet You always guide me.
Thirsty, hungry
Yet You always provide for me.

Selah

The rock that lives through the ages past and present.
The rock that has watched battles lost and won.
The rock that has been weather by wind, rain and sun,
You precede it.

The sun which shines on the harvest of the toiling farmer.
The sun that reveals its face both on the lost and found.
The sun that hides its face when I mourn,
You made it.

The voice that dwells in Your faithfulness.
The voice that praises Your goodness.
The voice that cries out for Your warm and loving embrace,
You hear it.

You who precedes the battle before it commences.
Who guarantees the victory,
Even when the enemy’s number is like sand upon the seashore,
You are Alpha.

Even when the end looks impossible,
When the lots are improbable,
You put your bow in the sky
And I remember,
You are Omega.

For there will be dancing,
The timing is right.
The dry season is over.
Hear the horns blow!
The Promised Land is nigh.

E.K.

Every promise has a process. Enjoy it in the knowledge that the God that started that good thing will complete it.

“For the vision is yet for an appointed time; But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; Because it will surely come, It will not tarry.”
‭‭Habakkuk‬ ‭2:3‬