In Failing To Confess, Lord,

I Was Looking For Something To Love, For I Was In Love With Loving, And I Hated Security And A Smooth Way, Free From Snares.

Will Is To Grace As The Horse Is To The Rider.

Who Can Map Out The Various Forces At Play In One Soul? Man Is A Great Depth, O Lord. The Hairs Of His Head Are Easier By Far To Count Than His Feeling, The Movements Of His Heart.

We Made Bad Use Of Immortality, And So Ended Up Dying; Christ Made Good Use Of Mortality, So That We Might End Up Living.

The Sky And The Earth And The Waters And The Things That Are In Them, The Fishes, And The Birds And The Trees Are Not Evil. All These Are Good; It Is Evil Men Who Make This Evil World.