Devotional No. 3 Psalms 138

Psalms 138 KJV

1 I will praise thee with my whole heart: before the gods will I sing praise unto thee.

2 I will worship toward thy holy temple, and praise thy name for thy lovingkindness and for thy truth: for thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name.

3 In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul.

4 All the kings of the earth shall praise thee, O Lord, when they hear the words of thy mouth.

5 Yea, they shall sing in the ways of the Lord: for great is the glory of the Lord.

6 Though the Lord be high, yet hath he respect unto the lowly: but the proud he knoweth afar off.

7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.

8 The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.

Here is a quote from Ellen G. White

The Youth's Instructor, December 27, 1900

Praise the Lord; talk of His goodness; tell of His power. Sweeten the atmosphere that surrounds your soul.... Praise, with heart and soul and voice, Him who is the health of your countenance, your Saviour, and your God. 69 The Youth's Instructor, December 27, 1900.

Here is a story from Guide’s Greatest Prayer stories:

Angelic Hanging by Jenny Logan
My brother, Jeff, and I were playing cops and robbers in the blistering hot Bolivian sun. (We had moved to South America five years before when our father had become youth director and pastor of eight churches.) I was hiding under a large barrel, waiting for Jeff to come sneaking by. Suddenly I heard the big iron gate creak. “Kids, come on inside the house. I have a surprise for you!” Dad hollered. After the whole family had gathered around, Dad told us what the big surprise was. “We’re going camping! I’m taking all of us up to the youth camp to stay for an entire month.” “A whole month?” Jeff and I shouted at once. “Yes, and we leave tomorrow morning,” Dad replied. “Wow! I can’t wait!” I exclaimed, jumping and leaping around the room. “Jenny, calm down and start packing,” Mom said. “Good idea, Mom!” I raced out of the room. Early the next morning, before sunrise, Dad woke us up. We hurried around the house, grabbing last-minute things we needed for the trip. Finally everything was loaded into our Jeep, and we were on our way. The worst part of the three-hour trip was the road. It always scared Mom. In Bolivia the main highways are nothing more than one-car-wide dirt roads, and the road leading to Camp Lajos was especially dangerous. It was crooked and had a sharp upward grade. On one side of the road a cliff rose thousands of feet into the sky. On the other side a sheer rocky precipice plummeted down, down, down. At the very bottom a river rushed rapidly along the rocky floor of the canyon. But from the road far above, it seemed to be nothing more than a small creek trickling along. The Jeep was barely narrow enough for the tires to stay on the road. Dad was silent, concentrating on driving. I could tell Mom was getting a little nervous. Finally she said, “Hey, kids, why don’t we sing some camp songs? It’ll make the time go faster.” She started to sing her favorite one, “On Top of Old Smoky.” Soon everyone joined in. I was standing at the back door of the Jeep looking out the window. “Jenny, sit down!” Mom commanded. “I don’t want that door to fly open and have you fall out.” Reluctantly I sat back down. “‘Old McDonald had a farm . . .’” my brother burst forth exuberantly. “‘And on this farm he had a pig . . .’” I joined in. We had sung just about every camp song we knew. The drive was getting long, and I had to go to the bathroom. “Dad, how much longer?” I asked. “Hush, Jenny, Dad’s trying to concentrate on this terrible road. We’ll be there soon,” Mom said. I was bored, and I didn’t feel like singing anymore. Slowly I got up and walked to the back door of the Jeep. Peering out the window, I was soon absorbed in counting the little white crosses that dotted the side of the road. They marked the places where cars and their passengers had been hurled over the edge to their deaths. My hands were splayed against the door when without warning the back door flew open. Thrown off balance, I grasped frantically for the handle and swung out with the door. The feeling of being suspended in thin air engulfed me. Panic set in. “Mom, Dad!” I yelled. I twisted my head around to look at the Jeep. No one had noticed what had happened because of the usual rattle noises of the Jeep. I fearfully looked down. All I could see was the little creek thousands of feet below. I was hanging directly over the precipice. I gripped the handle harder, but I could tell by my sweaty palms that I was going to slip any minute. “Dear Jesus,” I prayed, “please help my mom and dad to see me, and help me to hang on tight.” I screamed again. This time my mom heard me. As she whirled her head around, her eyes widened in horror as she saw her child swaying like a rag doll over a jagged canyon. “Lloyd, stop the car!” she said with all the calmness she could muster. Dad glanced over his shoulder. A helpless expression spread over his face. He stopped the Jeep slowly so the door wouldn’t slam shut with me in it. Then he ran around to the back door. He carefully leaned over the cliff, grasped the bottom of the door, and brought me to safety. I collapsed in his arms, sobbing with relief. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I choked on my tears. “I’ll never disobey you again, I promise.” Holding me tightly, she said, “I’m just glad you’re safe, honey.” As I look back on that terrifying experience, there has never been a doubt in my mind as to how I was able to hang on to the handle. I know that my guardian angel was there right beside me, giving me the strength to hang on just a little longer.