A psalm of David, when he was in the wilderness of Judea.
1. GOD, my God, unto Thee I rise early at dawn. My soul hath thirsted for Thee; how often hath my flesh longed after Thee in a land barren and untrodden and unwatered.
David begins with an intimate double cry: “O God, my God” — a form of address full of personal devotion and urgency. Repeating the divine name expresses not only intensity, but also affection and closeness. This is the language of love and dependence — like a child calling out twice to its mother in the night. His desire is not merely for help or protection, but for communion. The soul naturally longs for God as its true life and center; this cry reflects the heart's instinctive turning toward the One who made it.
“You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” — St. Augustine (Confessions," specifically Book 1, Chapter 1.)
The phrase “I rise early at dawn” (Orthros in Greek) refers not just to a time of day, but to a posture of the heart. The Orthros was the last watch of the night, just before the dawn — a time of stillness, anticipation, and often, spiritual clarity. This is when David seeks God: before food, before people, before light itself. In the tradition of the Church, this time became associated with watchfulness and prayer, a sacred hour when the soul is most awake to God’s presence.
The line “my soul thirsts for You” expresses a yearning deeper than any bodily thirst — it is the thirst for God Himself, not for what He gives but for who He is. This longing comes from the depths of being, where the soul knows that it was created for communion, and that nothing else — no pleasure, success, or human relationship — can fill that space.
David continues: “in a barren and untrodden and unwatered land.” On the surface, this refers to the physical wilderness of Judah, where David fled while being pursued by his son Absalom. But this geographical setting becomes a powerful symbol of the soul’s interior landscape when estranged from God. The wilderness is desolate, lifeless, and lonely — just like the heart that has wandered from grace.
In the Orthodox tradition, this barren land also mirrors the condition of the fallen world, which, apart from God, is empty, fruitless, and dry of virtue. Yet it is precisely in this wilderness — both literal and spiritual — that the soul begins to awaken. The realization of one's dryness becomes the first movement of repentance. This psalm is thus a song of longing and return, offered from the depths of a heart that knows it cannot live without God.
When we wake up, especially before dawn, the world is quiet and still. There’s no noise, no food, no people — just silence. It can feel empty, even a little lonely or unformed. This is what David calls an untrodden land — a space not yet filled with the activity, relationships, or meaning that the day will bring.
In those early moments, our heart may feel scattered, heavy, or dull. We haven’t yet been warmed by prayer or grace. This is the unwatered land within us — the soul that hasn’t yet turned to drink deeply from God that day.
The whole day stretches ahead of us like a path not yet walked — unknown, possibly difficult. We don’t know what challenges or blessings lie ahead. For many, mornings feel like entering the same dry routine: the same tasks, same commute, same fatigue. It can feel barren — spiritually lifeless.
But this is where the thirst begins — the deep awareness that without God, the day is just a desert.
When we pray this Psalm we are beginning our day with reverence and a deep seeking of God. We turn our first words to Him unafraid of the darkness of the night or the unknown of the day to come. Instead of twisting for a drink of water after the night we thirst for His presence. It is a thrift that never goes away and is with us always. Our soul continually seek a union with God.
2. So in the sanctuary have I appeared before Thee to see Thy power and Thy glory,
David recalls a time when he stood in the sanctuary of the Lord, the holy place where God's presence dwelled — the Tabernacle, and later the Temple, especially the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was kept. There, in the sacred stillness of worship, David had encountered God’s power and glory — not merely through external ritual, but through real communion with the divine.
In the sanctuary, David would have seen God's power displayed in the memory of His mighty acts: the deliverance from Egypt, the parting of the sea, the victories granted to Israel, the holy fire descending, and the reverence surrounding the Ark. He would have sensed God's glory — the radiant beauty of His presence, His holiness, majesty, and the awe that surrounds divine otherness. This is not a vague spiritual feeling, but what the Church calls a foretaste of theosis — the vision of God’s glory not as imagination, but as true encounter with grace.
Now, far from Jerusalem and pursued in the wilderness, David longs once again for that presence. Though exiled from the sanctuary, he is not exiled from God. His soul thirsts for what he once beheld — and believes he can behold again, even in the wilderness.
We too may have experienced moments of God’s glory — perhaps in the Divine Liturgy, in prayer, in sacred silence. But then we find ourselves at home in the early morning, waking from darkness and dreams into an unknown day, and may feel spiritually dry, far from that divine light. This verse teaches us to remember the glory of God, and to seek it again, even when the sanctuary seems distant.
When you rise in the morning and whisper, “O God, my God, early will I seek You,” let your soul also say: “I long to see Your power and Your glory.” Ask to behold His power — in the way He strengthens you through fear, weakness, and sorrow. And also ask to see His glory, His nearness, in the stillness of your prayer.
Even if you feel far away from God, like David arising in the wilderness, bring to your mind how you have experienced His glory. You carry the sanctuary within you where the Holy Spirit resides. Humbly, with a pure heart, pray to reconnect to His glory for guidance throughout the new day.
Archimandrite writes:
“O Lord, it is only when our hearts have been separated from the world that we can communicate with You, entering into the divine darkness of Your presence». For the Eternal One does not mingle with the transitory things of time. God is inaccessible to all, yet accessible to the soul, giving Himself to those who turn to Him with their whole heart, and who have the kind of spirit expressed in the following verse.”
Awake, giving your whole heart to God, seeking His power and glory.
3. For Thy mercy is better than lives; my lips shall praise Thee.
This verse expresses one of the most profound truths in the spiritual life. The word translated as “mercy” in Hebrew means steadfast love, covenant faithfulness, and lovingkindness. It is not a passing emotion, but a loyal, active, saving love — a love that holds fast and never lets go. In the Greek Septuagint (LXX), this is translated as ἔλεος — the same word we cry out in every Orthodox service: “Lord, have mercy” (Κύριε ἐλέησον). It does not mean mere pity, but rather the life-giving, healing, and redeeming presence of God.
When David says, “Thy mercy is better than lives,” he is declaring that God's love is more precious than all the richness life can offer. Even if he were granted many lives — full of comfort, health, success, or relationships — God’s mercy would be better. To know this mercy is to dwell in communion with God, which is the true and eternal life of the soul. Without God’s mercy, life becomes empty. With it, even the wilderness becomes holy ground.
The second half of the verse — “my lips shall praise Thee” — flows naturally from the first. When the heart is filled with the awareness of God’s mercy, the lips cannot remain silent. They become the voice of the soul, responding not out of obligation but from overflowing love, awe, and thanksgiving. Praise is no longer mechanical or forced — it rises spontaneously, even in hardship, even in solitude — because the soul knows that God is near, and His mercy endures forever.
In you prayer of this line remember Hs mercy and make your response to His mercy is a blessing, praising Him with our voice, not only belief.
4. So shall I bless Thee in my life, and in Thy Name will I lift up my hands.
This verse reveals that the true purpose of our life is to bless and glorify God continually — not just with words, but with our whole being and in all our activities. David speaks of a life entirely directed toward God, a life of unbroken worship.
The Greek word for “bless” (εὐλογέω) means “to speak well” — to utter good words, words filled with truth, mercy, and light. To bless God is to speak in a way that reflects Christ, and to live in a way that glorifies Him in all we do. This kind of blessing is not confined to church or prayer times — it becomes the very rhythm of our life, the natural outflow of a heart united to God. It should be a continual way of speaking.
When David says, “I will bless Thee in my life,” he means that as long as he has breath, his soul and body belong to God. He means that his speech, his thoughts, and actions are all God’s.” This is the kind of prayer in which no foreign thoughts or divided desires remain. The whole person is gathered together and directed toward God.
The second half of the verse — “in Thy Name will I lift up my hands” — deepens this offering. To lift up the hands is one of the most ancient gestures of prayer. It expresses supplication where the soul reaches up toward God, asking for His mercy and help. Also, praise — offering and lifting up one’s whole self in thanksgiving. And, surrender and openness — the body reflecting a heart that is open and trusting before God.
This gesture is not performance — it is the body participating in the longing of the soul. It is as if David is saying, “I reach for You, Lord — because nothing else will satisfy me.” In this movement is desire, trust, need, and love.
In the tradition of the Church, lifting the hands is also seen as a gesture of sacrifice and service — offering ourselves wholly to God, like a loyal servant offering his life out of love. It is an act of worship, yes, but also of belonging: “I am Yours.”
The Church Fathers also connected this gesture to moments of spiritual battle and victory. When Moses lifted up his hands in prayer during the battle against Amalek (Exodus 17:11), Israel prevailed. His raised hands upheld the people — just as our prayer, lifted in love and persistence, upholds the soul in every struggle.
Make this verse not only a declaration, but a way of life:
To bless God with your every breath.
To lift your hands in longing, offering, and surrender.
To live with no other aim but to be united with Him.
5. As with marrow and fatness let my soul be filled, and with lips of rejoicing shall my mouth praise Thee.
In the ancient Near East, “marrow and fatness” were symbols of abundance, richness, and joyful celebration. Marrow — the innermost and most nourishing part of the bone — was considered a luxury, something deeply satisfying. Fatness referred to the choicest portions of the animal, set aside for sacrifice and festive feasts — a sign of blessing, favor, and fullness.
To be filled “with marrow and fatness” means to be satisfied at the deepest level — not just physically, but spiritually, emotionally, and existentially. It is a picture of the soul’s complete contentment in the presence of God.
David is speaking here of the soul’s delight in God. Just as a rich meal satisfies the body, communion with God satisfies the deepest hunger of the heart. This verse echoes the longing expressed earlier: “My soul thirsts for You in a dry and weary land.” Now, that thirst is being quenched — not by worldly comforts, but by the joy and fullness of God’s presence.
In Orthodox understanding, this verse points to the mystery of spiritual nourishment — the soul being filled with divine grace, especially through prayer, stillness, contemplation, and most fully in the Divine Liturgy and the Holy Eucharist, where we truly “taste and see that the Lord is good.”
From this fullness, praise naturally overflows. When the soul is filled, the mouth speaks — not out of obligation, but out of rejoicing. The phrase “lips of rejoicing” describes more than happiness — it refers to a joy that is rooted in the knowledge of who God is. Even in exile, even in the wilderness, David rejoices — because God is with him, and God is enough.
The Fathers teach that true joy is not found in external blessings or circumstances, but in the inner experience of God’s presence. To rejoice in God is to possess a joy that the world cannot give — and cannot take away.
As you pray this line, you ask that your soul be filled with His Goodness, and that your voice proclaim your praise of Him.
6. If I remembered Thee on my bed, at the dawn I meditated on Thee.
This verse expresses the deep and personal love David has for God — a love that remains with him even in the quiet hours of the night. When all is still, and the world has withdrawn into sleep, David's heart remains awake in remembrance. His thoughts do not drift into worry, fantasy, or distraction; they rest in the Lord.
To remember God on your bed is to turn your heart toward Him in the most unguarded and intimate moments of your life — moments of solitude, silence, and stillness. It is a form of hidden prayer, of communion without words, where your soul keeps God quietly and lovingly present within.
In the Orthodox tradition, this kind of remembrance is greatly cherished. The saints speak of the power of one’s last thoughts before sleep, knowing that what the soul holds in the night shapes its inner world. Prepare in your evening prayer before bed that thought the night that you will remember Him.
Saint John Chrysostom (On Hebrews 14:4)
We must always remember God, and especially when our mind is tranquil. If we call God to mind during the day, cares will come rushing in, along with the distractions and the noise of the day, and so the recollection of God is more effective at night, when the soul is tranquil and at rest» (PG63:115).
The second half of the verse — “at the dawn I meditated on Thee” — reveals the other bookend of David’s inner rhythm: prayer in the early morning hours, known in the Church as Orthros. The Greek word for dawn (ὀρθρινός) refers to that sacred time just before sunrise, the still hour when light begins to break into darkness.
David speaks of a heart that awakens already turned toward God. As the body stirs from sleep, the soul’s first movement is prayer — not toward busyness, food, or distraction, but toward meditation on God. The word μελετῶ (“to meditate”) means more than silent reflection; it refers to prayerful attention, loving remembrance, and often the quiet repetition of God’s word — a kind of inner chant that fills the soul with light.
The dawn is more than a moment on the clock — it is a spiritual moment. It is when the soul, like the world, begins to awaken, and when the heart can most clearly attune itself to God's presence. In the Orthodox Church, this time is traditionally given to psalmody, prayer, and thanksgiving — the offering of the first fruits of the day to the Lord.
This verse teaches you to make prayer not only something you do, but something you become. David shows us a life in which even resting and waking are part of a rhythm of communion with God. Adopt this rhythm in your life. Framed by remembrance and meditation, your soul will slowly form into a vessel of ceaseless prayer.
7. For Thou art become my helper; in the shelter of Thy wings will I rejoice.
The language is intimate: “Thou* art become my helper” reflects a relationship that has grown through trials. David doesn’t just hope God will help him — he knows that it is so from his memory, gratitude, and trust in God. He knows it as the help of the One who created him, Who knows the soul’s needs better than it does itself. God helps not only by changing circumstances, but by changing the heart, by being with us in all things — including pain and uncertainty.
Archimandrite Aimilianos writes;
Those who love God are filled with—that is, they know and experience—God’s divine power and grace.
Like David you too should have such experiences of God helping you though the trials and tribulations of your daily life.
The phrase, “in the shelter of Thy wings will I rejoice” expresses this trust, protection, and joy in God’s nearness. It evokes the image of a bird sheltering its young under its wings — a recurring and powerful biblical metaphor. For instance, Psalm 90:4-91:4 declares, "He will cover you with his shoulders, and under his wings you will find refuge.” In ancient Israelite thought, the image of God's wings pointed to the Ark of the Covenant, where two cherubim spread their wings over the mercy seat — the place where God's presence dwelled (Exodus 25:20). To be under God's wings was to be in His presence, under His mercy, and within His protection. David is saying the he is safe because God is close to him and he rejoices because he knows from experience that He will cover him. and protect him. Just as a small bird hides under its mother’s wing from predators, so the faithful soul finds peace and joy in the nearness of God, even in the wilderness or during persecution.
In the Orthodox tradition, this verse is often prayed during times of spiritual struggle, reminding us that God’s presence is our refuge. The “shadow of Thy wings” becomes a symbol for:
The Church, where we are covered by grace
The Divine Liturgy, where we stand under God's mercy seat
The inner stillness where the soul meets God in prayer
When praying this verse remember how God is your shelter and rejoice for His divine protection. Seek His help for your difficulties and He will show you a way to overcome them.
8. My soul hath cleaved after Thee, Thy right hand hath been quick to help me.
This verse beautifully expresses the intimate relationship between human longing and divine grace — the soul’s deep desire for God and God’s faithful response. The phrase “My soul hath cleaved after Thee” uses the Greek verb ἐκολλήθη(from κολλάω), which means to cling, to stick closely, or to follow with unshakable attachment. It’s the same verb used in Genesis 2:24 (LXX) to describe the intimate union between a husband and wife. David is speaking here of the soul’s total and permanent attachment to God — an inseparable bond formed in love, trust, and need. Consider David’s setting in the wilderness, and hoe he is being pursued and afflicted, yet his soul holds fast to God. His desire for God is not born out of comfort, but out of hardship. The soul has an instinct to cling to the One who gives life and strength.
The second half of the verse — “Thy right hand hath been quick to help me” — completes the image. In biblical language, the right hand of God symbolizes power, authority, favor, and salvation. It represents God’s personal and decisive action. The verb used here, ἀντελάβου (from ἀντιλαμβάνομαι), means to take hold of, to support, or to catch — like a father reaching out to steady a stumbling child. This is the nature of God’s help: not distant or delayed, but swift, sustaining, and intimate. Like Peter on the water who begins to sink and is immediately caught by Christ’s outstretched hand, David knows that God is not slow to act. Even when the soul is straining to hold on, it is God's right hand that truly upholds and secures us.
In this verse, we see the mystery at the heart of Orthodox spiritual life: though we strive, pray, and cling to God with all our might, it is ultimately His grace — His hand — that supports and sustains us. This verse, then, becomes both a confession of weakness and a testimony of God’s enduring faithfulness. It is the prayer of every soul that understands: without God, we would fall — but with His hand upon us, we can endure, rejoice, and rise.
Archimandrite Aimianos writes:
For our spiritual lives to bear fruit, two things are necessary: the exercise of our free will, which is expressed in the first part of this verse, and the divine grace, which is expressed in the second.
David does not say anything about the need for human strength. It is his inner disposition that simply desires not to be separated from God. The strength for union with God comes directly from God.
Saint Athanasios of Alexander writes:
“Not even for a moment, my God, candy spirit be separated from You, for I am afire with ardent love, and, as if my mind were a b]mass of glue, I adhere to You in desire.”
When praying this verse recognize how your soul has a strong desire to be connected with God. Pray that your free will act in harmony with this desire f your soul so it will His grace to develop union with God. When you can d this His action can be very quick.
9. But as for these, in vain have they sought after my soul; they shall go into the nethermost parts of the earth,
10. they shall be surrendered unto the edge of the sword; portions for foxes shall they be.
David turns his focus to those who have risen against him — not only political or military enemies, but spiritual ones as well. Historically, “they” refers to those who pursued David's life during his time in the wilderness, most notably during Absalom’s rebellion, when even his own son sought to take his throne and his life. But David sees deeper than personal conflict: those who try to separate him from God are, in truth, enemies of God Himself. Their aim is not only to harm David physically, but to destroy his hope, his calling, and his communion with the Lord. Thus, “they” can be understood more broadly as any force — human, demonic, or inward — that seeks to tear the soul away from God. These enemies include the passions, temptations, and dark thoughts that stir fear, despair, pride, or self-will within us. Spiritually, the verse applies to anything that rises up against the soul’s union with God — and yet David declares that their pursuit is in vain, because his soul cleaves to God (v. 8), and God’s right hand upholds him.
The judgment upon these enemies is described in sobering and vivid terms: “They shall go into the nethermost parts of the earth.” This is not merely a prediction of death, but a statement about spiritual consequence. The “nethermost parts” refer to Sheol or Hades — the realm of the dead, a place of descent, isolation, and removal from the light of the living. In Orthodox spirituality, this descent represents not only physical demise but the soul’s fall into darkness and separation from God. The Fathers teach that such a fall is not imposed by God, but chosen by the soul that turns away from Him. In contrast to the soul that cleaves upward in love, the soul that lives for pride, hatred, rebellion, or the passions collapses inward — it descends. Though evil may appear strong for a time, its end is always the same: futility, judgment, and ruin.
David continues this prophetic declaration with the phrase, “They shall be surrendered unto the edge of the sword.” This is not the language of personal vengeance but of divine justice. “Surrendered” (παραδοθήσονται) implies that their downfall is not accidental; it is allowed — even determined — by God. The sword, in biblical language, is a symbol of justice, judgment, and destruction. Those who live by violence, whether exterior or interior, ultimately destroy themselves. Spiritually, this can be seen as the cutting down of sin and the passions by the sword of God’s Word — which is described in the New Testament as living and active, “sharper than any two-edged sword” (Hebrews 4:12). It is not human strength that defeats the enemies of the soul, but divine truth.
Finally, David says, “They shall be a portion for foxes.” This is perhaps the most vivid and humiliating image of all. In ancient culture, to die unburied — to be left in the open, consumed by wild animals — was seen as a complete disgrace. Foxes (or jackals) were scavengers of desolate places, roaming ruins and wastelands. To become food for such creatures was to be forgotten, discarded, and dishonored. In the spiritual life, this image speaks of what happens to unrepented sin: it devours itself, leaving behind nothing but desolation. The Fathers teach that when the soul clings to sin, it is ultimately consumed by the very darkness it embraces. The passions, if not cut off, turn the soul into spiritual ruin — food for foxes. But in contrast, the soul that cleaves to God is protected, upheld, and filled with life. The enemies of the soul — whether external or internal — fall away, lost in their own futility, while the righteous stand upheld by the right hand of God.
When praying do not doubt God’s presence or power. Whatever evil is before you, no matter how great, God can protect you. Pray with love, thanksgiving and confidence in God. Follow the urging that comes from your soul that intensely desires union the Him.
11. But the king shall be glad in God, everyone shall be praised that sweareth by Him; for the mouth of them is stopped that speak unjust things.
This final verse brings the psalm to a victorious and deeply spiritual conclusion. David, speaking as the king, declares that his joy is not in personal vindication or earthly triumph, but in God Himself. Even in exile, pursued and slandered, the king rejoices — because his heart remains rooted in the Lord. This gladness reflects a soul that has endured suffering, clung to God, and now finds joy not in changed circumstances, but in restored communion. David looks beyond himself, affirming that all who swear by God — that is, all who confess loyalty to Him and stand firm in faith — will be honored. In the biblical world, to swear by God was to publicly affirm covenantal faithfulness. Spiritually, this speaks to all those who remain faithful in the face of hardship, who confess God's name without shame — they will be praised, not necessarily by men, but by God and His Church.
In contrast, the verse ends with the silencing of the wicked: “the mouth of them is stopped that speak unjust things.” Those who slandered, accused, or acted in deceit will be exposed and silenced. Their words, once threatening, are now powerless. This is not merely poetic justice, but a revelation of divine truth — in the end, God will have the final word. The faithful will rejoice, and the lies of the wicked will be no more. This verse leaves the soul with a clear contrast: cling to God and rejoice, or oppose Him and be silenced. It is a word of hope, vindication, and encouragement to all who endure darkness by holding fast to the light.
When praying remember the faith and confidence David has in the beneficence of God. Don’t waver in your faith. Believe that God will protect you as long as you surrender to Him believing inHis mercy and power.
Conclusion: The Meaning and Significance of Psalm 62 (LXX) for Orthodox Christians
Psalm 62 (LXX) is a psalm of deep longing, spiritual resilience, and unwavering communion with God — a psalm that, for Orthodox Christians, becomes not only a prayer but a daily path of inner transformation. Rooted in David’s experience of exile and pursued by enemies, the psalm expresses a movement from thirst to fulfillment, from isolation to intimacy, from the wilderness of suffering to the joy of divine presence.
For the Orthodox believer, this psalm is more than historical poetry — it is a mirror of the soul’s journey toward God. It begins with the cry of a thirsty heart: “O God, my God, early will I seek You.” This is not only the voice of David, but the voice of every soul that awakens in the dry landscape of a fallen world and turns immediately to its only Source of life. The soul thirsts, the flesh longs, and the day begins — and in that moment of barrenness, prayer is born. Each verse thereafter builds on this longing, recalling past experiences of God's glory, expressing joy in His mercy, lifting up hands in surrender, and finding fullness not in what the world provides, but in the nearness of God Himself.
Psalm 62 teaches Orthodox Christians to start the day with God, to remember Him on their beds, to meditate on Him at dawn, and to orient every breath, every struggle, every victory, and every act toward Him. It speaks of the life of prayer as ceaseless remembrance — not just in church, but in the quiet of morning, in the fatigue of routine, and in the trials that shake our hearts. It reminds us that to bless God is to offer our whole self, to lift our hands is to give our life, and to cleave to Him is to discover the joy that cannot be taken away.
The psalm does not ignore the presence of enemies — external or internal. It names them: those who seek the soul, those who speak falsely, the passions, temptations, and demonic forces that oppose God’s work in us. Yet it affirms with calm confidence that they will not prevail. Their pursuit is in vain. They will descend into the “nethermost parts of the earth,” consumed not by wrath but by the fruit of their own darkness. In contrast, those who cling to God are upheld by His right hand — not merely sustained, but made victorious through grace.
Ultimately, Psalm 62 is a song of hidden joy and victorious faith. The king — that is, the soul that reigns with God through love and obedience — rejoices not in circumstance, but in God Himself. The faithful who “swear by Him,” who live in loyalty and trust, are praised by God, while the voices of the unjust are silenced. This is not vengeance, but revelation — that truth endures, mercy triumphs, and the soul that clings to God shall not be moved.
For Orthodox Christians who pray this psalm daily, it becomes a rule of the heart: a call to begin the day in longing, to walk through it in remembrance, to end it in surrender, and to entrust all things to the One whose mercy is better than life. Psalm 62 is the prayer of the wilderness that leads to the joy of the sanctuary — a path that every soul must walk, but never walks alone.
Questions for Reflection:
1. What does my heart first seek each morning — God, or something else?
(“O God, my God, early will I seek Thee…”)
2. In what ways have I felt spiritually dry or barren lately? Have I offered that dryness to God as a longing for Him?
(“In a land barren and untrodden and unwatered…”)
3. Have I known moments of God’s glory — in prayer, in Liturgy, or in silence? Do I seek to return to that presence daily?
(“So in the sanctuary have I appeared before Thee…”)
4. Do I believe that God's mercy is better than anything else I could desire — even life itself?
(“Thy mercy is better than lives…”)
5. Is my daily life a blessing to God? Do my words and actions reflect a heart united with Him?
(“So shall I bless Thee in my life…”)
6. What fills my soul — and what leaves me empty? Where do I look for true spiritual nourishment?
(“As with marrow and fatness let my soul be filled…”)
7. Do I remember God in the quiet moments — on my bed, at dawn, in stillness?
(“I remembered Thee on my bed…”)
8. Am I clinging to God in times of difficulty, or trying to carry myself?
(“My soul hath cleaved after Thee…”)
9. Do I trust God to bring justice and silence those who speak falsely? Or do I try to vindicate myself?
(“The mouth of them is stopped that speak unjust things.”)
