That Saint Who Advances On His Knees

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.

I Do Not Know How To Make A Man Think Seriously About Sin And Judgment, And Must Look To The Work Of The Holy Spirit For Any Hint Of Such A Working.

God Is Still On His Throne, We're Still On His 'footstool,' And There's Only A Knee's Distance Between!

The Will Of God Is Sweet Tonight, Altogether ‘good And Acceptable And Perfect.’ The Considerate Love Of The Lord Jesus For Us Seems Such A Kind Thing Now. I Know It Has Always Been So, But Somehow I Didn’t See How Wise It Was When It Didn’t Seem Kind… Remind Me Of This When I Cannot Regard His Love As Considerate Some Time.

It's Hard To Steer A Parked Car.