When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure.

Give me the Love that leads the way The Faith that nothing can dismay The Hope no disappointments tire The Passion that'll burn like fire Let me not sink to be a clod Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God

If my attitude be on of fear, not faith, about the one who has disappointed me; if I say “Just what I expected,” if a fall occurs, then I know nothing of Calvary Love.

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose, My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill, Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still. Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes, Confusions multiplied; From crowding things of sense I flee, and Thee I hide. Until this tyranny be overpast, Thy hand will hold me fast; What though the tumult of the storm increase, Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord, and bless with peace.

When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure.

If you are ever inclined to pray for a missionary, do it at once, where ever you are. Perhaps he may be in great peril at that moment.

The mere telling of how a need was met is often like telling of a need, which is asking crookedly instead of straight out. But this much I will say--with every fresh need has come a fresh supply.