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.

I pray for you, that all your misgivings will be melted to thanksgivings. Remember that the shadow a thing casts often far exceeds the size of the thing itself (especially if the light be low on the horizon) and though some future fear may strut brave darkness as you approach, the thing itself will be but a speck when seen from beyond. Oh that He would restore us often with that 'aspect from beyond,' to see a thing as He sees it, to remember that He dealeth with us as with sons.

It is true that a fellow cannot ignore women - but he can think of them as he ought - as sisters, not as sparring partners.

If we are the sheep of His pasture, remember that sheep are headed for the altar.

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.

So many missionaries, intent on doing something, forget that His main work is to make something of them.

Surely those who know the great passionate heart of Jehovah must deny their own loves to share in the expression of His.