All That Spirits Desire, Spirits Attain.

The Brooks Flow To Their Lover, The Sea, And The Flowers Smile At The Object Of Their Passion, The Light. The Mist Rolls Down To Its Beloved, The Valley. And I? In Me Is What Brooks Do Not Know, What Flowers Do Not Hear, What The Mist Does Not Apprehend. You See Me Alone In My Love, Solitary In My Yearning.

You Are Far, Far Greater Than You Know - And All Is Well.

Humanity Looks Upon Jesus The Nazarene As A Poor-born Who Suffered Misery And Humiliation With All Of The Weak. And He Is Pitied, For Humanity Believes He Was Crucified Painfully. . . . And All That Humanity Offers To Him Is Crying And Wailing And Lamentation. For Centuries Humanity Has Been Worshiping Weakness In The Person Of The Savior. The Nazarene Was Not Weak! He Was Strong And Is Strong! But The People Refuse To Heed The True Meaning Of Strength.

For If You Bake Bread With Indifference, You Bake A Bitter Bread That Feeds But Half Man's Hunger.

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names.