Thank you, Father, that your mercies are new every morning.
They are inexhaustible.
They are fresh.
They do not have to be portioned or rationed.
Your mercies are like the little boy's fish and loaves. There will be some left over when everyone is full.
Your mercies extend to the cracks, niches, and corners of me that I have forgotten.
Your mercies are not dependent on me. Glory!
Your mercies penetrate the cemented parts of my heart.
Your mercies are like oil poured out and it moves along the rivets and ruts of me and softens as it runs.
I am anointed by your mercy.
I am a recipient this morning of your unending, unfathomable mercies.
I don't understand this kind of mercy.
Even now I can feel them soaking into the crusty edges of my attitude.
Even now I can feel your mercies anointing my weakened heart.
Even now I can feel your mercies soothing the rough places of my soul.
I need to go and gather my baskets.
There will be leftovers today.
ButI won't need them.
You will send me fresh mercies in the morning.