If We Are The Sheep

Live Every Day As If The Son Of Man Were At The Door, And Gear Your Thinking To The Fleeting Moment. Just How Can It Be Redeemed? Walk As If The Next Step Would Carry You Across The Threshold Of Heaven. Pray. That Saint Who Advances On His Knees Never Retreats.

He Makes His Ministers A Flame Of Fire. Am I Ignitible? God Deliver Me From The Dread Asbestos Of 'other Things.' Saturate Me With The Oil Of The Spirit That I May Be Aflame. But Flame Is Transient, Often Short Lived. Canst Thou Bear This, My Soul - Short Life? ... Make Me Thy Fuel, Flame Of God.

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.

He Is No Fool Who Gives What He Cannot Keep To Gain What He Cannot Lose.

We Are So Utterly Ordinary, So Commonplace, While We Profess To Know A Power The Twentieth Century Does Not Reckon With.... Oh That God Would Make Us Dangerous!