A Golfer’s Blessing
May your drives be long and straight,
your putts be short and true, and,
May there ever be a bit of green grass under every lie.
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A Golfer’s Psalm
The LORD is my caddie; I shall
He maketh me to drive straight down green fairways:
He leadeth me over the still waters.
He leadeth me in the paths of truthfulness for the game's sake.
Yea, though I pitch through the valley of
the shadow of the woods,
I will fear no bunkers: for thou art with me;
Thy wedge and thy putter they comfort me.
preparest a line before me in the presence of mind hazards:
Thou anointest my stroke with confidence; the cup will not
be runneth over.
Surely birdies and eagles shall follow me all the rounds of my life:
and I will dwell in the clubhouse
of the LORD for ever.
Lord, as I walk down the fairways
help me to realize that my greatest opportunities to learn
are actually when I am in the rough,
I discover things I never knew were there,
and when I'm in the deepest sand,
where I learn that there is a time to walk
and clean-up after myself,
and when I'm playing scramble,
where I learn that I have friends
to make up
for what I lack,
and when I find the water,
where I learn that some things
are better left alone.
And when the
ball rolls into the hole
for that wonderful par,
help me to realize that
all good things come from you.
When facing outward on life’s
What’er may be my fate,
Grant --- I pray --- this boom to me
That I may drive them straight …
And if my best be not enough
Then give me courage high,
To go out there into the rough
And play them as they
And when on life’s putting green
Others make the cup,
If I do not --- may I come clean
be well up…
So when my game of life is played
And my clubs are laid aside,
No matter what mistakes I’ve
May I have qualified.
Blessed art Thou oh Lord our God
Thou hast made the sand, the grass the trees,
and gently in the tallest oak,
You waft a gentle breeze.
the bubbling little brook.
You painted the placid pond.
You sigh the deepest twilight.
And smile the brightest dawn.
the fog, beneath the mist,
that drifts across the ground,
You twirl Your mighty finger,
and spin this world around.
hills, the valleys, the winding wood,
inspire a soul to sing,
was ever there such beauty, Lord
where rolls the emerald
Oh God, I know You are a golfer,
Your work does thus demand.
It seems Your only handicap,
is this thing
that You call man.
Can this be an island, Lord ?
A place of grace and charm.
Away from daily trouble Lord,
from daily harm ?
We pray that this may be, dear God,
a place where love extends.
Where travelers come as strangers
golfers leave as friends !