I pray Thee, or by wind or fire,
Make pure my inmost heart's desire,
And purge the clinging chaff from off the floor.
I wish Thy way;
But when in me myself would rise
And long for something otherwise,
Then, Holy One, take sword and spear, and slay.
Oh, stay nearby,
Most patient Love, till, by Thy grace,
In this poor silver, Thy bright face
Shows forth in clearness and serenity.
What will it be
When, like the lily or the rose,
That in my flowery garden blows,
I shall be flawless, perfect, Lord, to Thee?
"Is it not good to know that of His work in us on earth, even as of His work through us, there will come a day when He will say, "It is finished"; the chaff will be all winnowed, the I slain - never to take life again - the silver cleansed from the scum of earth, the soul perfect as a flower, and we shall be like Him then, for we shall see Him as He is? [1 John 3:2]"
Entire post quoted from Rose from Brier by Amy Carmichael
No comments:
Post a Comment