Prayer Topics
 Give thanks for all staff of our hospitals and health centres.
 Give thanks for all the encounters during the Miss Mustard Seed Day.
 Pray for those who remain ill, at home, in hospital or care homes. Pray also for their families and all who give care.
 Use the Prayer Manual to pray for the 25 churches on six circuits across the North West District and the work of the Methodist Church of Southern Africa.
 Pray for Services who attend to the aftermath of the weather conditions and effect repairs to electricity and road networks.
 Pray for all the groups who will meet and use our church premises during the week.

Pray for WDR ]World Development and Relief] Volunteers, Zimbabwe.  Read More  WDR Zimbabwe

Reflection:  On Sunday 19 September Rev Eleanor recited the poem, “The touch of the Master’s Hand” as part of her children’s address and received a round of applause from the whole congregation.  The poem by Myra “Brooks” Welch with acknowledgements to  S  Simons and Discover Barbados / Poems and Poetry,  is reprinted below.

T’was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin, but held it up with a smile;
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried, “Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar”; then two!” “Only two? Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?

Three dollars, once; three dollars twice; going for three..” But no,
from the room, far back, a gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin, and tightening the loose strings,
he played a melody pure and sweet as caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low,
said; “What am I bid for the old violin?” And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two? Two thousand! And who’ll make
it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice, and going and gone,” said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We do not quite understand
what changed its worth.” Swift came the reply: “The touch of a master’s hand.”

And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin,
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine; a game – and he travels on.
“He is going” once, and “going twice, He’s going and almost gone.”

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd never can quite understand
the worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought by the touch of the Master’s hand.