I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of mercy and supplication, so that when they look on him whom they have thrust through, they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and they will grieve for him as one grieves over a firstborn.
Psalm 142:2-8
With my own voice I cry to the Lord;
Tissot, Jacques, 1836-1902. The Death of Jesus. |
Before him I pour out my complaint,
tell of my distress in front of him.
When my spirit is faint within me,
you know my path.
As I go along this path,
they have hidden a trap for me.
I look to my right hand to see
that there is no one willing to acknowledge me.
My escape has perished;
no one cares for me.
I cry out to you, Lord,
I say, You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.
Listen to my cry for help,
for I am brought very low.
Rescue me from my pursuers,
for they are too strong for me.
Lead my soul from prison,
that I may give thanks to your name.
Then the righteous shall gather around me
because you have been good to me.
John 15:12-17
No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father. It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you.
This I command you: love one another.
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