Lord, Make My Way Prosperous Not That

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.

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

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.

Unwillingness To Accept God's 'way Of Escape' From Temptation Frightens Me - What A Rebel Yet Resides Within.

Those Whimpering Stateside Young People Will Wake Up On The Day Of Judgment Condemned To Worse Fates Than These Demon-fearing Indians, Because, Having A Bible, They Were Bored With It - While These Never Heard Of Such A Thing As Writing.