01 April, 2012
1
Lord, I do choose the higher than my will.
I would be handled by thy nursing arms
After thy will, not my infant alarms.
Hurt me thou wilt--but then more loving still,
If more can be and less, in love's perfect zone!
My fancy shrinks from least of all thy harms,
But do thy will with me--I am thine own.
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Sweet friends, receive my offering. You will find
Below each worded page a white space set:--
This is the mirror of each friendly mind
Reflecting that. In this blog we are met.
Make it, dear hearts, of worth to you indeed:--
Let your white space be ground, my text be seed,
Growing to golden ears, that faith and hope shall feed.