Oh, That I Could Spend Every Moment

Here Am I, Send Me; Send Me To The Ends Of The Earth; Send Me To The Rough, The Savage Lost Of The Wilderness; Send Me From All That Is Called Comfort On Earth; Send Me Even To Death Itself, If It Be But In Your Service, And To Promote Your Kingdom

Oh, How Precious Is Time! And How Guilty It Makes Me Feel When I Think I Have Trifled Away And Misimproved It, Or Neglected To Fill Up Each Part Of It With Duty To The Utmost Of My Ability And Capacity

My Desires Seem Especially To Be After Weanedness From The World, Perfect Deadness To It, And That I May Be Crucified To All Its Allurements. My Soul Desires To Feel Itself More Of A Pilgrim And A Stranger Here Below, That Nothing May Divert Me From Pressing Through The Lonely Desert, Till I Arrive At My Father's House.

I Am An Old Sinner; And If God Had Designed Mercy For Me, He Would Have Called Me Home To Himself Before Now.

As To My Success Here I Cannot Say Much As Yet: The Indians Seem Generally Kind, And Well-disposed Towards Me, And Are Mostly Very Attentive To My Instructions, And Seem Willing To Be Taught Further.