If We Are The Sheep Of His

Father, Take My Life, Yea, My Blood If Thou Wilt, And Consume It With Thine Enveloping Fire. I Would Not Save It, For It Is Not Mine To Save. Have It Lord, Have It All. Pour Out My Life As An Oblation For The World. Blood Is Only Of Value As It Flows Before Thine Altar

Wherever You Are - Be All There.

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.

Rest In This-it Is His Business To Lead, Command, Impel, Send, Call, Or Whatever You Want To Call It. It Is Your Business To Obey, Follow, Move, Respond, Or What Have You... The Sound Of 'gentle Stillness' After All The Thunder And Wind Have Passed Will Be The Ultimate Word From God.

It's Hard To Steer A Parked Car.