Let everything that hath breath
praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord.
Psalm 150:6
It's Saturday evening...
praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord.
Psalm 150:6
It's Saturday evening...
Right now, I'm in my little prison cell, basking in the spiritual afterglow of this afternoon's worship service.
While the sunshine and warm temperatures tempted and beckoned many prisoners into the recreation yard, about fifty of us went to the chapel instead. For, we had a 20-member choir visiting us from the City of Poughkeepsie, New York. There is something wonderful about praising the Lord with men and women from outside these prison walls who have the anointing of God upon their lives, and who love Him too.
With the acoustics of our house of worship, it often sounds as if there are more people in the building than are actually present. Approximately fifty inmates and 20 guests made for seventy people. Yet as we all began to sing, and when I closed my eyes, it seemed as if five hundred were there. And as tears flowed down my face, and as I lifted my hands into the air, it felt as if my soul was being cleansed.
This group calls themselves "HIS Choir." As we sang and clapped our hands in adoration for Jesus Christ, the time flew by so fast. The brothers and my chaplain spent two hours with these Christians. I wanted the worship to go on forever.
D.B.
While the sunshine and warm temperatures tempted and beckoned many prisoners into the recreation yard, about fifty of us went to the chapel instead. For, we had a 20-member choir visiting us from the City of Poughkeepsie, New York. There is something wonderful about praising the Lord with men and women from outside these prison walls who have the anointing of God upon their lives, and who love Him too.
With the acoustics of our house of worship, it often sounds as if there are more people in the building than are actually present. Approximately fifty inmates and 20 guests made for seventy people. Yet as we all began to sing, and when I closed my eyes, it seemed as if five hundred were there. And as tears flowed down my face, and as I lifted my hands into the air, it felt as if my soul was being cleansed.
This group calls themselves "HIS Choir." As we sang and clapped our hands in adoration for Jesus Christ, the time flew by so fast. The brothers and my chaplain spent two hours with these Christians. I wanted the worship to go on forever.
D.B.
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