I Am Not What I Ought To

God Works Powerfully, But For The Most Part Gently And Gradually.

The Midsummer Sun Shines But Dim, The Fields Strive In Vain To Look Gay; But When I Am Happy In Him December's As Pleasant As May.

How Sweet The Name Of Jesus... The Rock On Which I Build, My Shield And Hiding Place, My Never Failing Treasury, Filled With Boundless Stores Of Grace.

Assurance Grows By Repeated Conflict, By Our Repeated Experimental Proof Of The Lord's Power And Goodness To Save; When We Have Been Brought Very Low And Helped, Sorely Wounded And Healed, Cast Down And Raised Again, Have Given Up All Hope, And Been Suddenly Snatched From Danger, And Placed In Safety; And When These Things Have Been Repeated To Us And In Us A Thousand Times Over, We Begin To Learn To Trust Simply To The Word And Power Of God, Beyond And Against Appearances: And This Trust, When Habitual And Strong, Bears The Name Of Assurance; For Even Assurance Has Degrees.

We Can Easily Manage If We Will Only Take, Each Day, The Burden Appointed To It. But The Load Will Be Too Heavy For Us If We Carry Yesterday's Burden Over Again Today, And Then Add The Burden Of The Morrow Before We Are Required To Bear It.