It's Hard To Steer A Parked Car.

Oh, The Fullness, Pleasure, Sheer Excitement Of Knowing God On Earth! I Care Not If I Never Raise My Voice Again For Him, If Only I May Love Him, Please Him. Mayhap In Mercy He Shall Give Me A Host Of Children That I May Lead Them Through The Vast Star Fields To Explore His Delicacies Whose Finger Ends Set Them To Burning. But If Not, If Only I May See Him, Touch His Garments, Smile Into His Eyes - Ah Then, Not Stars Nor Children Shall Matter, Only Himself.

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.

Always Seek Peace Between Your Heart And God, But In This World, Always Be Careful To Remain Ever-restless, Never Satisfied, And Always Abounding In The Work Of The Lord.

He Makes His Ministers A Flame Of Fire. Am I Ignitible? God Deliver Me From The Dread Asbestos Of 'other Things.' Saturate Me With The Oil Of The Spirit That I May Be Aflame. But Flame Is Transient, Often Short Lived. Canst Thou Bear This, My Soul - Short Life? ... Make Me Thy Fuel, Flame Of God.

Children Are Arrows In A Quiver, And They Are To Be Trained As Missionaries And Shot At The Devil.