Time Hath A Taming Hand.

Dear Lord...shine Through Me, And Be So In Me That Every Soul I Come In Contact With May Feel Your Presence In My Soul...let Me Thus Praise You In The Way You Love Best, By Shining On Those Around Me.

Every Breath Of Air And Ray Of Light And Heat, Every Beautiful Prospect, Is, As It Were, The Skirts Of The (angel's) Garments, The Waving Robes Of Those Whose Faces See God.

Christ Is Already In That Place Of Peace, Which Is All In All. He Is On The Right Hand Of God. He Is Hidden In The Brightness Of The Radiance Which Issues From The Everlasting Throne. He Is In The Very Abyss Of Peace, Where There Is No Voice Of Tumult Or Distress, But A Deep Stillness--stillness, That Greatest And Most Awful Of All Goods Which We Can Fancy; That Most Perfect Of Joys, The Utter Profound, Ineffable Tranquillity Of The Divine Essence. He Has Entered Into His Rest. That Is Our Home; Here We Are On A Pilgrimage, And Christ Calls Us To His Many Mansions Which He Has Prepared.

O Loving Wisdom Of Our God When All Was Sin And Shame, A Second Adam To The Fight And To The Rescue Came.

Prayer Is To The Spiritual Life What The Beating Of The Pulse And The Drawing Of The Breath Are To The Life Of The Body.