from humbled hands

destitue, displaced, distraught all I give, I give for naught intentions immoral, I quarrel with my pride mechanical motions busting out notions of love and charity for me my glory my honor  my story is me. not You. take me, break me make me Yours- use me. use me for Your story,  for Your glory. give me a burning passion to bring honor to Your name. i'm sick of satan and this game. forget about me and my wicked desires. i turn to you and live with a passion full of raging fire. i'm at your will,  waiting for Your call. Lord, You have my all. from humbled hands,  Jessie Rediger

"If I have eaten my morsel alone,"     The Patriarch spoke with scorn; What would he think of the Church were he shown     Heathendom--huge, forlorn, Godless, Christless, with soul unfed, While the Church's ailment is fullness of bread,     Eating her morsel alone? "Freely you have received, so give,"     He says, who has given us all. How will the soul in us longer live     Deaf to their starving call, For whom the blood of the Lord was shed, And His body broken to give them bread,     If we eat our morsel alone!                                  Archbishop William Alexander I was extremely moved and convicted by this poem I read yesterday in L.B. Cowman's Streams in the Desert .  I know that I don't want to eat my mor...