Recently overheard: a little girl, when asked if she knew what 'mahogany' was, confidently replied that it was the last day of the year. So I say to you, Happy Mahogany! (Naturally, you are too kind to correct me by pointing out that I mean Hogmanay, which demonstrates what a fine human being you are, and why I like you so much.)
This is my prayer on December 31, as I peer through the mysterious fog that always shrouds a new year. I perceive shapes moving about within it, as in a dark glass. Some of those shapes are known, some unknown. I am expectant; I wait, and am glad that I know the One who holds the future.
Come, Lord Jesus! Tear my heart asunder; take it to pieces like a washerwoman and clean each piece upon a rock and make it new; remake it with perfect stitches once the sin and sadness ingrained upon each thread are washed into the sea; and let that sea be endless; and let it create a right spirit within me. Come quickly, Lord, and make the world anew. I say again, come quickly, Lord Jesus! Speedily, as thou hast said. Amen.
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