That Saint Who Advances On His Knees

Let Not Our Longing Slay The Appetite Of Our Living.

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.

Children Are Arrows In A Quiver, And They Are To Be Trained As Missionaries And Shot At The Devil.

Most Laws Condemn The Soul And Pronounce Sentence. The Result Of The Law Of My God Is Perfect. It Condemns But Forgives. It Restores - More Than Abundantly - What It Takes Away.

He Is No Fool Who Parts With That Which He Cannot Keep, When He Is Sure To Be Recompensed With That Which He Cannot Lose.