Sunday, October 11, 2009

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire,
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.

-Amy Carmichael, Gold Cord


Teddy said...

That's awesome-I think I'm going to copy that out! Am I the only one that gets a kick out of the word 'clod'?? :-)

Melanie said...

Um... I dunno... are you? I kind of like the word. :-)

Gabrielle Renee said...

Love it! :D I might copy it out too!


Rosebud said...

Thanks, Melanie.

Anonymous said...

That is a very good poem! And it struck me funny, too, Teddy. :D