Mercy drops round us are falling.

How does it happen that certain songs or diddies, craziness go round and round in your head for days? I have been singing and thinking on the song, “Showers of Blessings,” for I think two weeks and trying to figure out what the significance of it might be for me. I am not sure I know that answer yet, and so I did a search on the author and reason for his writing it. I posted that information below for your information.

David Bartlett quoted in his blog about this song, Jeremiah 3:3, “Therefore, the showers have been withheld, and the spring rain has not come.” You can read his thoughts here, http://wp.me/pyfEB-6A

I was wondering what mercy really is like. There is so much mercy given to us, have we become so familiar with it that we don’t really recognize it anymore as mercy! We don’t even deserve any mercy! Unmerited favor given because God loves us so much. As I think of this while writing I am prompted to put a thank you on the top of my morning prayer for the mercy given for another day to wake up and praise God. That is the blessing, all the mercy that drops around us! I shall plead in prayer for wisdom to see God’s mercy and remember to be thankful for each drop.

MERCY ITSELF IS A BLESSING!!

Whittle was named af­ter Amer­i­can pol­i­ti­cian Dan­i­el Web­ster. Whit­tle reached the rank of ma­jor in the Amer­i­can ci­vil war, and for the rest of his life was known as “Ma­jor” Whit­tle. Dur­ing the war, Whit­tle lost his right arm, and end­ed up in a pris­on­er of war camp. Re­cov­er­ing from his wounds in the hos­pi­tal, he looked for some­thing to read, and found a New Test­a­ment. Though its words res­o­nat­ed with him, he was still not rea­dy to ac­cept Christ. Short­ly af­ter, a hos­pit­al or­der­ly woke him and said a dy­ing pris­on­er want­ed some­one to pray with him. Whit­tle de­murred, but the or­der­ly said, “But I thought you were a Christ­ian; I have seen you read­ing your Bi­ble.” Whit­tle then agreed to go. He re­cord­ed what took place at the dy­ing youth’s bed side:

I dropped on my knees and held the boy’s hand in mine. In a few brok­en words I con­fessed my sins and asked Christ to for­give me. I be­lieved right there that He did for­give me. I then prayed ear­nest­ly for the boy. He be­came qui­et and pressed my hand as I prayed and plead­ed God’s prom­ises. When I arose from my knees, he was dead. A look of peace had come over his trou­bled face, and I can­not but be­lieve that God who used him to bring me to the Sav­ior, used me to lead him to trust Christ’s pre­cious blood and find par­don. I hope to meet him in hea­ven.

After the war, Whittle be­came trea­sur­er of the El­gin Watch Com­pany in Chi­ca­go, Ill­i­nois. In less than 10 years, though, he en­tered the evang­el­ism field. Dur­ing this per­i­od, he worked with mu­si­cians Phil­lip Bliss and James Mc­Gran­a­han. His daugh­ter May Moody al­so wrote mu­sic for some of his lyr­ics.

Of his de­ci­sion to de­vote his life to the Gos­pel, Whittle said that, while at work, he:

…went into the vault and in the dead si­lence of the qui­et­est of plac­es I gave my life to my Heav­en­ly Fa­ther to use as He would.