Saints Can Not Live on Wine Alone (They Need the Lamb)
They gather ’round with lifted cup, The vintage rich, the vessel full Yet still the soul feels hunger deep, A quiet ache, a gentle pull.
For wine may warm the tongue and cheer, And momentarily dull the pain, But joy that lasts, that stills the storm, Is found not in the grape or grain.
The saints may sip from gilded glass, But thirst returns with every breath. Their strength comes not from vineyard rows, But from the Lamb who conquered death.
He bore the cross, He broke the bread, He poured His blood, the truest wine. He is the feast, the Living Word, The holy root, the sacred vine.
So let them taste, but not forget That heaven’s hope is not a toast It’s in the Lamb, once slain for all, Whose mercy means the very most.
Saints can not live on wine alone They need the Lamb upon the throne.
Jhn 6:35 And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.
As a young boy, I dreamed wide and high, Built wings from wonder, carved clouds in the sky. My cockpit? A box with a broom for a blade, An ace of the air in the world I made.
I soared past rooftops, past worry and rain, Dodging the fire of enemy planes. With nerves of steel and a pilot’s grin, I always found a way to win.
Each dive and roll, each daring feat, Was powered by hope beneath small feet. To guard my home, to brave the storm, My cardboard plane became my form.
I came back home with wind-blown hair, A hero welcomed with trumpet flair. No medals pinned, just stars in my eyes No one but me knew I’d ruled the skies.
And now… I’m tired. The day is done. The race has faded with the setting sun. But even as this body lies, My soul prepares again to rise.
For sleep is just the hangar door To launch me into dreams once more. So tuck me in, don’t say goodbye I’ll wake and once again… Return to the sky.
Keep your eye on the Cross, where mercy was shown, Where the weight of our sins was carried alone. Not in anger, not wrath, but love pure and true He cried, “Forgive them, they know not what they do.”
Two hung beside Him, each facing the end, One mocked with pride, one called Him a Friend. With trembling voice and soul laid bare, A thief found grace hanging right there.
No time for good deeds, no long, righteous way, Yet Jesus declared, “You’ll be with Me today.” No works, no robe, no claim to defend Just faith in the Savior, and love without end.
But ponder this truth as your heart takes in view: The Man in the Middle died for me and for you. The Cross was the bridge, the pain was the price, And Heaven was opened through that sacrifice.
So when you feel lost, betrayed, or dismayed, Look up to the place where redemption was made. For the One in the middle, with thorns on His brow, Still says to the seeking, “You’re with Me now.”
We strive and sweat, we fall, we try, We lift our heads and question why. We chase approval, seek to earn, But grace is something we can’t learn.
For all our works, they fall apart They cannot mend the broken heart. We wear ourselves out, day by day, Hoping to earn what none can pay.
But God, in mercy rich and true, Declared a warranty for you. Not by deeds or proud decree, But through His Son who sets us free.
Normal wear and tear won’t do, The cracks must show, the soul break through. He doesn’t fix what’s merely worn He redeems the hearts that mourn.
When we are shattered, torn and tossed, He meets us there beneath the cross. It’s not our polish, but our plea That activates His warranty.
So cease your striving, bend the knee Let Jesus be your guarantee For through the Lamb, God warrants you, Made whole, made clean, and made anew.
Tit 3:5 he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit,
When I stop thinking about me, My first thought is You—so pure, so free. The clamor fades, the noise grows still, And I’m drawn again to Your perfect will.
All of my dreams start rising anew, Not built for me—but shaped by You. For when I surrender what I once pursued, You fill me with joy this world never knew.
The love of God revives these bones, Like springtime winds through desert stones. He lifts the weight, He breaks the night, And floods my soul with morning light.
He puts a new song in my heart each day, A melody grace alone could play. So I’ll think less of “me,” and far more of “You”— And that’s where all dreams start coming true.
Psa 40:3 And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.
Heaven’s Hope, God’s Answer “The hope of Heaven is God’s solution to sorrow.”
When sorrow wraps its aching thread Around the heart and fills with dread, When tears fall down like silent rain, And prayers rise up through grief and pain
There shines a light not made by sun, A promise sealed by God’s own Son. Beyond the veil, beyond the night, There waits a dawn of endless light.
The hope of Heaven—pure, divine God’s answer through the cross and time. No wound too deep, no loss too wide, That grace won’t reach and love won’t guide.
A place where partings turn to song, Where broken hearts are made strong. Where every tear is wiped away, And sorrow has no place to stay.
So hold on tight when trials rise, Lift up your soul, lift up your eyes. For Heaven waits, and love is near God’s healing hand will dry each tear.
Rev 21:4 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
