Take Christ In With You Under Your

Why Should I Tremble At The Plough Of My Lord, That Maketh Deep Furrows On My Soul? I Know He Is No Idle Husbandman, He Purposeth A Crop.

After Every Storm, There Comes Clear Open Skies.

I Know That, As Night And Shadows Are Good For Flowers, And Moonlight And Dews Are Better Than A Continual Sun, So Is Christ's Absence Of Special Use, And That It Hath Some Nourishing Virtue In It, And Giveth Sap To Humility, And Putteth An Edge On Hunger, And Funisheth A Fairfield To Faith To Put Forth Itself, And To Exercise Its Fingers In Gripping It Seeth Not What.

Build Your Nest In No Tree Here...for The Lord Of The Forest Has Condemned The Whole Woods To Be Demolished.

The Cross Of Christ Is The Sweetest Burden That I Ever Bore; It Is Such A Burden As Wings Are To A Bird, Or Sails To A Ship, To Carry Me Forward To My Harbor.