Best Prayers Quotes | Short & Famous Sayings Page 2

“Whenever He answers prayers, God usually prioritizes those by people who, instead of their mouths, have prayed with their hands and/or feet.”

“A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Today is the winter solstice. The planet tilts just so to its star, lists and holds circling in a fixed tension between veering and longing, and spins helpless, exalted, in and out of that fleet blazing touch. Last night Orion vaulted and spread all over the sky, pagan and lunatic, his shoulder and knee on fire, his sword three suns at the ready-for what? I won’t see this year again, not again so innocent; and longing wrapped round my throat like a scarf. “For the Heavenly Father desires that we should see,” says Ruysbroeck, “and that is why He is ever saying to our inmost spirit one deep unfathomable word and nothing else.” But what is the word? Is this mystery or coyness? A cast-iron bell hung from the arch of my rib cage; when I stirred, it rang, or it tolled, a long syllable pulsing ripples up my lungs and down the gritty sap inside my bones, and I couldn’t make it out; I felt the voiced vowel like a sigh or a note but I couldn’t catch the consonant that shaped it into sense.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“It looked as though the leaves of the autumn forest had taken flight, and were pouring down the valley like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, all the leaves of the hardwoods from here to Hudson’s Bay. It was as if the season’s colors were draining away like lifeblood, as if the year were molting and shedding. The year was rolling down, and a vital curve had been reached, the tilt that gives way to headlong rush. And when the monarch butterflies had passed and were gone, the skies were vacant, the air poised. The dark night into which the year was plunging was not a sleep but an awakening, a new and necessary austerity, the sparer climate for which I longed. The shed trees were brittle and still, the creek light and cold, and my spirit holding its breath.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“I was in no tent under leaves, sleepless and glad. There was no moon at all; along the world’s coasts the sea tides would be springing strong. The air itself also has lunar tides; I lay still. Could I feel in the air an invisible sweep and surge, and an answering knock in the lungs? Or could I feel the starlight? Every minute on a square mile of this land one ten thousandth of an ounce of starlight spatters to earth. What percentage of an ounce did that make on my eyes and cheeks and arms, tapping and nudging as particles, pulsing and stroking as waves?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“I want to think about trees. Trees have a curious relationship to the subject of the present moment. There are many created things in the universe that outlive us, that outlive the sun, even, but I can’t think about them. I live with trees. There are creatures under our feet, creatures that live over our heads, but trees live quite convincingly in the same filament of air we inhabit, and in addition, they extend impressively in both directions, up and down, shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Yes, it’s tough, it’s tough, that goes without saying. But isn’t waiting itself and longing a wonder, being played on by wind, sun, and shade?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“This is what I had come for, just this, and nothing more. A fling of leafy motion on the cliffs, the assault of real things, living and still, with shapes and powers under the sky- this is my city, my culture, and all the world I need.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“And under the cicadas, deeper down that the longest taproot, between and beneath the rounded black rocks and slanting slabs of sandstone in the earth, ground water is creeping. Ground water seeps and slides, across and down, across and down, leaking from here to there, minutely at a rate of a mile a year. What a tug of waters goes on! There are flings and pulls in every direction at every moment. The world is a wild wrestle under the grass; earth shall be moved. What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening. If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun’s surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet, the winds are blowing: the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the sweater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral. Lick a finger; feel the now. Spring is seeping north, towards me and away from me, at sixteen miles a day. Along estuary banks of tidal rivers all over the world, snails in black clusters like currants are gliding up and down the stems of reed and sedge, migrating every moment with the dip and swing of tides. Behind me, Tinker Mountain is eroding one thousandth of an inch a year. The sharks I saw are roving up and down the coast. If the sharks cease roving, if they still their twist and rest for a moment, they die. They need new water pushed into their gills; they need dance. Somewhere east of me, on another continent, it is sunset, and starlings in breathtaking bands are winding high in the sky to their evening roost. The mantis egg cases are tied to the mock-orange hedge; within each case, within each egg, cells elongate, narrow, and split; cells bubble and curve inward, align, harden or hollow or stretch. And where are you now?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.” The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth’s surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“In the forty minutes I watched the muskrat, he never saw me, smelled me, or heard me at all. When he was in full view of course I never moved except to breathe. My eyes would move, too, following his, but he never noticed. Only once, when he was feeding from the opposite bank about eight feet away did he suddenly rise upright, all alert- and then he immediately resumed foraging. But he never knew I was there. I never knew I was there, either. For that forty minutes last night I was as purely sensitive and mute as a photographic plate; I received impressions, but I did not print out captions. My own self-awareness had disappeared; it seems now almost as though, had I been wired to electrodes, my EEG would have been flat. I have done this sort of thing so often that I have lost self-consciousness about moving slowly and halting suddenly. And I have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. I wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves. Martin Buber quotes an old Hasid master who said, “When you walk across the field with your mind pure and holy, then from all the stones, and all growing things, and all animals, the sparks of their souls come out and cling to you, and then they are purified and become a holy fire in you.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“The color-patches of vision part, shift, and reform as I move through space in time. The present is the object of vision, and what I see before me at any given second is a full field of color patches scattered just so. The configuration will never be repeated. Living is moving; time is a live creek bearing changing lights. As I move, or as the world moves around me, the fullness of what I see shatters. “Last forever!” Who hasn’t prayed that prayer? You were lucky to get it in the first place. The present is a freely given canvas. That it is constantly being ripped apart and washed downstream goes without saying; it is a canvas, nevertheless. But there is more to the present than a series of snapshots. We are not merely sensitized film; we have feelings, a memory for information and an eidetic memory for the imagery of our pasts. Our layered consciousness is a tiered track for an unmatched assortment of concentrically wound reels. Each one plays out for all of life its dazzle and blur of translucent shadow-pictures; each one hums at every moment its own secret melody in its own unique key. We tune in and out. But moments are not lost. Time out of mind is time nevertheless, cumulative, informing the present. From even the deepest slumber you wake with a jolt- older, closer to death, and wiser, grateful for breath. But time is the one thing we have been given, and we have been given to time. Time gives us a whirl. We keep waking from a dream we can’t recall, looking around in surprise, and lapsing back, for years on end. All I want to do is stay awake, keep my head up, prop my eyes open, with toothpicks, with trees.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Shadow is the blue patch where the light doesn’t hit. It is mystery itself, and mystery is the ancients’ ultima Thule, the modern explorer’s Point of Relative Inaccessibility, that boreal point most distant from all known lands. There the twin oceans of beauty and horror meet. The great glaciers are calving. Ice that sifted to earth as snow in the time of Christ shears from the pack with a roar and crumbles to water. It could be that our instruments have not looked deeply enough. The RNA deep in the mantis’s jaw is a beautiful ribbon. Did the crawling Polyphemus moth have in its watery heart one cell, and in that cell one special molecule, and that molecule one hydrogen atom, and round that atom’s nucleus one wild, distant electron that split showed a forest, swaying?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Xerxes, I read, ‘halted his unwieldy army for days that he might contemplate to his satisfaction’ the beauty of a single sycamore. You are Xerxes in Persia. Your army spreads on a vast and arid peneplain…you call to you all your sad captains, and give the order to halt. You have seen the tree with the lights in it, haven’t you? You must have. Xerxes buffeted on a plain, ambition drained in a puff. Your men are bewildered…there is nothing to catch the eye in this flatness, nothing but a hollow, hammering sky, a waste of sedge in the lee of windblown rocks, a meager ribbon of scrub willow tracing a slumbering watercourse…and that sycamore. You saw it; you will stand rapt and mute, exalted, remembering or not remembering over a period of days to shade your head with your robe. “He had its form wrought upon a medal of gold to help him remember it the rest of his life.” We all ought to have a goldsmith following us around. But it goes without saying, doesn’t it, Xerxes, that no gold medal worn around your neck will bring back the glad hour, keep those lights kindled so long as you live, forever present? Pascal saw it; he grabbed pen and paper and scrawled the one word, and wore it sewn in his shirt the rest of his life. I don’t know what Pascal saw. I saw a cedar. Xerxes saw a sycamore.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“You are God. You want to make a forest, something to hold the soil, lock up energy, and give off oxygen. Wouldn’t it be simpler just to rough in a slab of chemicals, a green acre of goo? You are a man, a retired railroad worker who makes replicas as a hobby. You decide to make a replica of one tree, the longleaf pine your great-grandfather planted- just a replica- it doesn’t have to work. How are you going to do it? How long do you think you might live, how good is your glue? For one thing, you are going to have to dig a hole and stick your replica trunk halfway to China if you want the thing to stand up. Because you will have to work fairly big; if your replica is too small, you’ll be unable to handle the slender, three-sided needles, affix them in clusters of three in fascicles, and attach those laden fascicles to flexible twigs. The twigs themselves must be covered by “many silvery-white, fringed, long-spreading scales.” Are your pine cones’ scales “thin, flat, rounded at the apex?” When you loose the lashed copper wire trussing the limbs to the trunk, the whole tree collapses like an umbrella. You are a sculptor. You climb a great ladder; you pour grease all over a growing longleaf pine. Next, you build a hollow cylinder around the entire pine…and pour wet plaster over and inside the pine. Now open the walls, split the plaster, saw down the tree, remove it, discard, and your intricate sculpture is ready: this is the shape of part of the air. You are a chloroplast moving in water heaved one hundred feet above ground. Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen in a ring around magnesium…you are evolution; you have only begun to make trees. You are god- are you tired? Finished?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Last year I had a very unusual experience. I was awake, with my eyes closed, when I had a dream. It was a small dream about time. I was dead, I guess, in deep blank space high up above many white stars. My own consciousness had been disclosed to me, and I was happy. Then I saw far below me a long, curved band of color. As I came closer, I saw that it stretched endlessly in either direction, and I understood that I was seeing all the time of the planet where I had lived. It looked like a woman’s tweed scarf; the longer I studied any one spot, the more dots of color I saw. There was no end to the deepness and variety of dots. At length I started to look for my time, but, although more and more specks of color and deeper and more intricate textures appeared in the fabric, I couldn’t find my time, or any time at all that I recognized as being near my time. I couldn’t make out so much as a pyramid. Yet as I looked at the band of time, all the individual people, I understood with special clarity, were living at that very moment with great emotion, in intricate, detail, in their individual times and places, and they were dying and being replaced by ever more people, one by one, like stitches in which wholly worlds of feeling and energy were wrapped in a never-ending cloth. I remembered suddenly the color and texture of our life as we knew it- these things had been utterly forgotten- and I thought as I searched for it on the limitless band, “that was a good time then, a good time to be living.” And I began to remember our time. I recalled green fields with carrots growing, one by one, in slender rows. Men and women in bright vests and scarves came and pulled the carrots out of the soil and carried them in baskets to shaded kitchens, where they scrubbed them with yellow brushes under running water. I saw white-faced cattle lowing and wading in creeks. I saw May apples in forests, erupting through leaf-strewn paths. Cells on the root hairs of sycamores split and divided, and apples grew spotted and striped in the fall. Mountains kept their cool caves and squirrels raced home to their nests through sunlight and shade. I remembered the ocean, and I seemed to be in the ocean myself, swimming over orange crabs that looked like coral, or off the deep Atlantic banks where whitefish school. Or again I saw the tops of poplars, and the whole sky brushed with clouds in pallid streaks, under which wild ducks flew with outstretched necks, and called, one by one, and flew on. All these things I saw. Scenes grew in depth and sunlit detail before my eyes, and were replaced by ever more scenes, as I remember the life of my time with increasing feeling. At last I saw the earth as a globe in space, and I recalled the ocean’s shape and the form of continents, saying to myself with surprise as I looked at the planet, “yes, that’s how it was then, that part there was called France.” I was filled with the deep affection of nostalgia- and then I opened my eyes. We all ought to be able to conjure up sights like these at will, so that we can keep in mind the scope of texture’s motion in time.”

“Were the earth as smooth as a ball bearing, it might be beautiful seen from another planet, as the rings of Saturn are. But here we live and move; we wander up and down the banks of the creek, we ride a railway through the Alps, and the landscape shifts and changes. Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture and lapse into dreamless sleep. Because we are living people, and because we are on the receiving end of beauty, another element necessarily enters the question. The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle… What I want to do, then, is add time to the texture, paint the landscape on an unrolling scroll, and set the giant relief globe spinning on it stand.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Those people who shoot endless time-lapse films of unfurling roses and tulips have the wrong idea. They should train their cameras instead on the melting of pack ice, the green filling of ponds, the tidal swings…They should film the glaciers of Greenland, some of which creak along at such a fast clip that even the dogs bark at them. They should film the invasion of the southernmost Canadian tundra by the northernmost spruce-fir forest, which is happening right now at the rate of a mile every 10 years. When the last ice sheet receded from the North American continent, the earth rebounded 10 feet. Wouldn’t that have been a sight to see?”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“I am sitting here, you are sitting there. Say even that you are sitting across the kitchen table from me right now. Our eyes meet; a consciousness snaps back and forth. What we know, at least for starters, is: here we- so incontrovertibly- are. This is our life, these are our lighted seasons, and then we die. In the meantime, in between time, we can see. The scales are fallen from our eyes, the cataracts are cut away, and we can work at making sense of the color-patches we see in an effort to discover where we so incontrovertibly are. I am as passionately interested in where I am as is a lone sailor sans sextant in a ketch on an open ocean. I have at the moment a situation which allows me to devote considerable hunks of time to seeing what I can see, and trying to piece it together. I’ve learned the name of some color-patches, but not the meanings. I’ve read books; I’ve gathered statistics feverishly: the average temperature of our planet is 57 degrees F…The average size of all living animals, including man, is almost that of a housefly. The earth is mostly granite, which is mostly oxygen…In these Appalachians we have found a coal bed with 120 seams, meaning 120 forests that just happened to fall into water…I would like to see it all, to understand it, but I must start somewhere, so I try to deal with the giant water bug in Tinker Creek and the flight of three hundred redwings from an Osage orange and let those who dare worry about the birthrate and population explosion among solar systems. So I think about the valley. And it occurs to me more and more that everything I have seen is wholly gratuitous. The giant water bug’s predations, the frog’s croak, the tree with the lights in it are not in any real sense necessary per se to the world or its creator. Nor am I. The creation in the first place, being itself, is the only necessity for which I would die, and I shall. The point about that being, as I know it here and see it, is that as I think about it, it accumulates in my mind as an extravagance of minutiae. The sheer fringe and network of detail assumes primary importance. That there are so many details seems to be the most important and visible fact about creation. If you can’t see the forest for the trees, then look at the trees; when you’ve looked at enough trees, you’ve seen a forest, you’ve got it. If the world is gratuitous, then the fringe of a goldfish’s fin is a million times more so. The first question- the one crucial one- of the creation of the universe and the existence of something as a sign and an affront to nothing is a blank one… The old Kabbalistic phrase is “the Mystery of the Splintering of the Vessels.” The words refer to the shrinking or imprisonment of essences within the various husk-covered forms of emanation or time. The Vessels splintered and solar systems spun; ciliated rotifers whirled in still water, and newts laid tracks in the silt-bottomed creek. Not only did the Vessels splinter; they splintered exceeding fine. Intricacy then is the subject, the intricacy of the created world.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery. The surface of mystery is not smooth, any more than the planet is smooth; not even a single hydrogen atom is smooth, let alone a pine. Nor does it fit together; not even the chlorophyll and hemoglobin molecules are a perfect match, for, even after the atom of iron replaces the magnesium, long streamers of disparate atoms trail disjointedly from the rims of the molecule’s loops. Freedom cuts both ways. Mystery itself is as fringed and intricate at the shape of the air at times. Forays into mystery cut bays and fine fjords, but the forested mainland itself is implacable both in its bulk and in its most filigreed fringe of detail.”

Source: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK

“نیایش در طول تاریخ، یک عامل بزرگ تلطیف روح آدمی است.”

Inspirational Soul Philosophy Humanity Quotes Praying Human Prayers

Book:نیایش

Source: نیایش

“Let the final goal of all our wishes be Your pleasure.”

God Islam Wishes Prayers

Book:The Shape of Light: Hayakal al-Nur

Source: The Shape of Light: Hayakal al-Nur

“Let’s pray…For the Faithful Who Feel Forgotten. They are doing the best they can and it just seems like they can’t catch a break. Dear Heavenly Father, We lift up those who are walking in integrity, sowing in tears, and standing in faith—even when the harvest feels delayed. You see their quiet sacrifices, their unseen obedience, and their persistent hope. Remind them today that You are not unjust to forget their labor of love. Let them feel Your nearness when the silence is loud. When they can’t trace Your hand, help them trust Your heart. When doors seem shut, whisper that favor is forming behind the scenes. We declare that their “almost” season is turning into “already.” You are the God who rewards openly what was done faithfully in secret. Let breakthrough interrupt their waiting. Let joy invade their weariness. In Jesus’ name, amen. Scripture: Hebrews 6:10 (NKJV) “For God is not unjust to forget your work and labor of love which you have shown toward His name…” This verse is a divine receipt—proof that heaven has recorded every act of faithfulness. Affirmation: I Am Seen, I Am Sown, I Am Rising “I am not overlooked. I am not forgotten. I am a seed in God’s soil, and my harvest is inevitable. What I’ve done in faith will not return void. I trust God’s timing even when I don’t understand His methods. Favor is finding me.” Declaration: The Delay Is Not Denial—It’s Divine Setup “I declare that every ‘no’ was a setup for a better ‘yes.’ Every closed door was divine redirection. I am not stuck—I am stationed. God is working behind the scenes, and my name is being mentioned in rooms I haven’t entered yet. I will not faint. I will not fold. I will flourish in due season, and it’s closer than I think.”

Love God Declaration Affirmations Prayers

Author:Dr. Angela L. Hood

“Here’s a prayer that I journaled last year and if God leads you, pray this for yourself! Hallelujah!!! It’s working! Declare it’s working for me hallelujah! Let’s pray! Prayer Against Lack: Doors Are Opening Now Scripture Anchor: “And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:19 (NKJV) Dear Heavenly Father, I thank You that You are the God of abundance, the God of overflow, the God who never fails. Your Word declares that You will supply all my needs—not some, not a few, but all—according to Your riches in glory. That means lack has no legal right in my life. I reject scarcity, I rebuke insufficiency, and I declare that every need—spiritual, emotional, financial, relational—is met in full. You are not a man that You should lie, nor the son of man that You should change Your mind. What You have spoken, You will perform. What You have promised, You will fulfill. Your Word does not return void—it accomplishes what You sent it to do. So I stand on Your Word, I trust Your timing, and I praise You in advance. I will be a faithful steward of what You’re about to release. I will honor You with the increase. I will testify of Your goodness. I give You glory before the breakthrough, because I know the doors are already swinging open. Favor is finding me. Provision is locating me. Miracles are moving toward me. I declare: No more lack. No more delay. No more doubt. I believe. I trust. I receive. In Jesus’ mighty name, amen. Let’s GO!!!”

God Prayers Financial Freedom Answered Prayers

Author:Dr. Angela L. Hood

“All too often, our prayer clashes with another prayer of ours, or some of our prayers, and/or another person’s or other people’s prayer or prayers.”

Religion Spirituality Prayer Atheism Buddhism Praying Humanism Nonduality Prayers Non Duality

Author:Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Dear Heavenly Father, We step into this day with holy anticipation. Not just surviving but expecting. Expecting heaven to lean in. Expecting signs that speak louder than doubt. Expecting wonders that rewrite our story. We thank You for the gift of another sunrise. Another inhale. Another chance to say yes to purpose, To walk in joy, To forgive and be forgiven. For those carrying grief, Wrap them in Your presence like a weighted blanket of peace. Let memories be gentle, Let tears be healing, And let strength rise like a quiet roar within them. You are near to the brokenhearted— And today, we declare comfort will visit every aching soul. You are the God who doesn’t discard—You restores. You don’t cancel….You call again. You don’t forge….You favor. So we walk boldly into this day, Knowing we are not behind, not overlooked, not last. We are right on time for the miracle. Let laughter return. Let creativity flow. Let divine appointments find us. And let this day be marked by Your fingerprints. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

Love God Healing Help Prayers

Author:Dr. Angela L. Hood

“Stop kneeling before lifeless images for there to be sanity and serenity - the world is not a tiny place that can be helped by some imaginary gods and goddesses - it needs living gods and goddesses - it needs you - it needs your tangible involvement in the welfare of the people, not mere amens and aums.”

Reason Social Justice Humanism Humanitarian Rational Pearls Of Wisdom Humanitarianism Helping People Be The Change Prayers

Book:Servitude is Sanctitude

Source: Servitude is Sanctitude

“There are prayers which God response an instantly.”

God Inspiring Prayers Instantly

Author:Lailah Gifty Akita

“Do not neglect private prayers, the secret of success.”

Success Inspiring Prayers

Book:Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind

Source: Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind

“Bless my eyes to see goodness. Bless my words to speak kindness. Bless my heart to feel compassion. Bless my soul to radiate love.”

Spiritual Spirituality Kindness Spiritual Quotes Spirituality Quotes Blessings Affirmations Prayers Blessings Quotes

Author:Mary Davis

“The Richness Of A Life Centered On Principles And Prayers Help Us Connect To God And His Love”.”

Spiritual Inspirational Quotes Life Lessons Motivational Quotes Positive Thinking Wisdom Quotes Mindset Daily Quotes Prayers Behavioural

Author:Venugopal Acharya

“Sometimes the most wonderful gift you can give is a prayer for the health, happiness and well-being of a person's entire family. There’s not gift to unwrap, this person has already opened up their heart to you.”

Heart Happiness Family Health Value Gift Prayers

Author:Ron Baratono

“Maombi ya sifa huunganisha watu wa Mungu na hutayarisha njia kwa ajili ya uwezo wa Mungu katika maisha yetu. Thamani ya maombi ya sifa wakati wa matatizo ni kuimarisha imani yetu, na kuwa karibu na Mungu wetu. Mungu anataka tumpe sifa na kumshukuru kwa kila jambo, kama Mtume Paulo anavyosema katika waraka wa kwanza wa Wathesalonike 5:16-18. Kumshukuru Mungu wakati wa matatizo ni amri, si ombi.”

“Dear Child, Sometimes on your travel through hell, you meet people that think they are in heaven because of their cleverness and ability to get away with things. Travel past them because they don't understand who they have become and never will. These type of people feel justified in revenge and will never learn mercy or forgiveness because they live by comparison. They are the people that don't care about anyone, other than who is making them feel confident. They don’t understand that their deity is not rejoicing with them because of their actions, rather he is trying to free them from their insecurities, by softening their heart. They rather put out your light than find their own. They don't have the ability to see beyond the false sense of happiness they get from destroying others. You know what happiness is and it isn’t this. Don’t see their success as their deliverance. It is a mask of vindication which has no audience, other than their own kind. They have joined countless others that call themselves “survivors”. They believe that they are entitled to win because life didn’t go as planned for them. You are not like them. You were not meant to stay in hell and follow their belief system. You were bound for greatness. You were born to help them by leading. Rise up and be the light home. You were given the gift to see the truth. They will have an army of people that are like them and you are going to feel alone. However, your family in heaven stands beside you now. They are your strength and as countless as the stars. It is time to let go! Love, Your Guardian Angel”

Love Believe Wisdom Truth Pain Humanity Choices Christ Freedom Compassion Kindness Courage Hell Seeing Dreams Self Esteem Integrity Sorrow Future Letting Go Self Improvement Forgiveness Hatred Mercy Bravery Self Awareness Smile Obstacles Caring Protection Revenge Trials Chains Jealousy Faithful Self Respect Insecurity Courageous Pray Insightful Morals Uniqueness Harry Potter Angels Life Purpose Humane Empowering Women Let Go Merciful Holy Ghost Stay Positive See Prayers Big Dreams Crossroads God S Plan Hell On Earth Spirits Guardian Angel Rise Up Bullies Gideon Vengeful Journeys Caring Too Much Zion Being Unique Daughter Of God Guardian Angels Loving One Another Stalkers No Coincidences Kindness Of Strangers Stayingpositiveuniversity Com Moral Conscience Dante S Inferno Having Faith Harry Potter Related Hold Onto God Believing In Others Softening Your Heart Jedi Warrior Self Insight Onlyness Preexistence Preordination Archeangels Family In Heaven Harry Potter S Family Having A Conscience Praying For Others Qreat Quotes Removing Chains Sending Angels The Rainbow Path The Red Path The White Path

Author:Shannon L. Alder

“The hopeful lenses of our eyes are fixed on the busy hands of our dependable God... He is working hardly on our prayers... Don't be afraid!”

God Hands Hope Hard Work Busy Food For Thought Israelmore Ayivor Fixed Hopeful Eyes Lenses Work Hard Prayers Dependable Fix Lens Don T Be Afraid Working Hardly

Book:The Great Hand Book of Quotes

Source: The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“With dark raven paper and twinkling white ink, I wrote my heart in the night’s sky.”

“Unless she scares the hell out of you, blows the cobwebs from your mind, scorches your heart with passion, melts your chains with goodness and lights a fire in your pants...then she is not the one.”

Relationship Dating Seeking Clarity Longevity Discernment Prayers Courtship Selective Break Ups Stayingpositiveu Com The One Dating Tips Fiance Dating 101 Finding A Spouse Knowing Vs Guessing Relatinships 101

Author:Shannon L. Alder

“Some people would not be dead if they have not gotten the things or people they had prayed for.”

“Prayerful life, blessed life.”

“The need for intimacy with the Creator never left us; it was embedded in our very nature.”

Love God Christian Spiritual Faith Knowledge Bible Prayers Prophetic Teachings

Book:Constant Companion: Your Practical Path to Real Interaction with God

Source: Constant Companion: Your Practical Path to Real Interaction with God

“When prayer flags flutter and the prayers inscribed on them blend into the wind, the surroundings sing. Hope soars, compassion spills. May those feelings guide us all through the day.”

Hope Compassion Philosophy Of Life Meaning Of Life Prayers Hopeful And Encouraging Life Inspirational Motivation Prayers Of The Heart Feelings Guide Us

Author:Pooja Bhatt

“When Alma first started at the hospital, some of the nurses taught her to pray for the children according to severity. A level one meant pray that the child would be well; level two meant pray for decreased pain. Alma was slow to understand level three--praying that the children would die, that mercy and grace would shorten their suffering--but she had come around to it a few months into her job, when the boy with the shattered face was wheeled in. His mother's eyes convinced Alma that sometimes you suffered more the longer you lived.”

Pain Death Suffering Mercy Wellness Hospitals Prayers

Book:Heads of the Colored People

Source: Heads of the Colored People

“You are rich. You have a kindness, forgiveness, and love and prayers. Do not forget to share with others.”

Love Giving Care Rich Forgiveness Prayers Pleasing To God Wndness

Author:Mac Canoza

“There is a quiet light that shines in every heart. It draws no attention to itself, though it is always secretly there. It is what illuminates our minds to see beauty, our desire to seek possibility, and our hearts to love life.”

Heart Blessings Prayers

Book:To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

Source: To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

“Beating with love, there's only one human heart Colorblind and free, right from the start Salute and thanks to the brave selfless soldier Prayers for the fallen who never got to get older There's only one you, there's only one me Life is so precious in our human family”

Love Heart Song Soldier Heartbeat Prayers Salute Human Family Lyrics In A Song

Author:Marie Helen Abramyan

“So many people who exist more in our hearts and prayers than in our daily lives.”

Heart Prayers Lives Quotes

Author:Nitya Prakash

“Imagine being someone’s unanswered prayers! And then eventually die in peace knowing that in your heart.”

Heart Peace Die Prayers

Author:Nitya Prakash

“If I were to sit down and count them, how many of my prayers were tainted by the seduction of greed? None, simply because nothing of that sort is a prayer.”

“God allowed me to walk through the pain to get to the place where He needed me to be, so I could look back and see how lost I was without Him.”

Pain Prayers Gods Love Gods Plan

Author:Allene vanOirschot