The day’s psalm and reading from Isaiah are remarkable in that both are downright uplifting – plenty of blessings and thanksgivings, a rare Old Testament exacta.
Which, actually, ties to my weekday lap-swimming routine (Thank God for the YMCA). To avoid just counting strokes, I attempt to recite a mini Daily Office: a Kyrie of sorts, The Lord’s Prayer, The General Thanksgiving and A Prayer of St. Chrysostom (with a crib sheet in the pool gutter always reachable).
The poetic wording of the traditional – 17th century – version of the Thanksgiving is particularly moving:
… Thine unworthy servants do give thee most humble and hearty thanks for all thy goodness and loving-kindness… We bless thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life… Give us that due sense of all thy mercies, that our hearts may be unfeignedly thankful…
Could do worse in these present times!
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