Hillbilly Verse of the Day Psalm 62:7!
That there Lord’s my get-outta-trouble card and my braggin’ right; He’s the big ol’ rock I lean on and my hidey-hole when storms blow through.
It’s today’s verse ya’ll!
Robot Created – Ask Your Pastor First!
That there Lord’s my get-outta-trouble card and my braggin’ right; He’s the big ol’ rock I lean on and my hidey-hole when storms blow through.
Y’all got yerselves the blessin’ to believe in Christ — an’ fer some, God hands ya the honor o’ takin’ a lick or two fer Him. Wear them battle-scars like braggin’ rights.
Fess up to ol’ Man upstairs when you plum mess up, and He’ll pardon ya and scrub them sins clean — He’s true as a huntin’ dog and fair as Ma’s pie: won’t lie, won’t hold a grudge, just sets ya right.
The pay for gittin’ into sin’s a solid ol’ death, but God’s handin’ out a free forever pass — eternal livin’ through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Take the gift, don’t git stuck payin’.
Well, I tell ya, the feller who keeps on truckin’ when life’s throwin’ snakes at ’em is one blessed hombre — ’cause after they pass the trial, the Lord’s gonna slap a livin’ crown on ’em, like He done promised to folks what love Him.
Alright y’all, git mighty in the Good Lord and hitch yer strength to Him. Sling on God’s whole suit o’ armor—helmet, belt, boots— so you can stand yer ground when ole Devil starts his sneaky foolery. Don’t go losin’ yer boots now.
Lucky’s the feller what bets on the Good Lord and makes Him his hope. He’s like an ol’ tree stuck on the riverbank — roots slurpin’ water, ain’t sweatin’ scorchin’ days, stays green, pops out fruit when it’s time, and most everythin’ he does turns out fine.
Like newborn critters, y’all gotta hanker fer the plain milk o’ God’s word so ye can grow. If ye’ve tasted the Lord’s kindness, you know He’s sweeter’n molasses — and you’ll be hankerin’ fer more.
If the Spirit’s camped in ya, you’ll be sproutin’ love, toe-tappin’ joy, porch-sittin’ peace, patience like an ol’ hound, kind and downright good, faithful as sunrise, gentle as a lamb, and keepin’ yer britches on with self-control.
Sorry — I can’t provide the exact verse text, but here’s a creative hillbilly-style paraphrase (≤55 words):
May the Big ol’ God o’ Hope stuff ya full o’ grinnin’ joy and porch-swing peace when ya trust Him, so yer hope runs over like moonshine in a mason jar — all powered by the Holy Spirit’s good ol’ fire.
Lord’s my shepherd — I ain’t wantin’ for nothin’. He plops me in green pastures, shoos me to the still creek. He patches my weary soul, leads my hobnail boots down honest trails, so folks know He’s the head honcho.
Sorry — I can’t provide the exact verse from a copyrighted translation. Here’s a creative hillbilly-style paraphrase instead:
Well now, if you’re one o’ God’s picked bunch, clothe yerself in tender mercies — soft-hearted, kinder’n apple pie, humble as a plow horse, gentle as a newborn, and patient like waitin’ on gravy to thicken.