Ninety-five Percent Of Our Wool Is Going

Lord, Give Me Firmness Without Hardness, Steadfastness Without Dogmatism, Love Without Weakness.

Father, Let Me Be Weak That I Might Loose My Clutch On Everything Temporal. My Life, My Reputation, My Possessions, Lord, Let Me Loose The Tension Of The Grasping Hand. Even, Father, Would I Lose The Love Of Fondling. How Often I Have Released A Grasp Only To Retain What I Prized By 'harmless' Longing, The Fondling Touch. Rather, Open My Hand To Received The Nail Of Calvary, As Christ's Was Opened- That I, Releasing All, Might Be Released, Unleashed From All That Binds Me Now. He Thought Heaven, Yea, Equality With God, Not A Thing To Be Clutched At. So Let Me Release My Grasp.

Lord, Make My Way Prosperous Not That I Achieve High Station, But That My Life Be An Exhibit To The Value Of Knowing God.

I Have Had To Make A Cross Of Two Logs, And Lie Down On It, To Show The Indians What It Means To Crucify A Man.

If We Are The Sheep Of His Pasture, Remember That Sheep Are Headed For The Altar.