They are deep heart cry every believer should yearn for.
I Kiss Thy Rod
I bow my head, my Holy God,
To kiss Thy loving, chastening rod,
Because I know, how oft You smite,
It only can be true and right.
I want my simple life to be
A living copy, Lord, of Thee,
In love and Thy humility,
A humble, lowly, contrite heart
With truth set in the inward part.
Dear God, I really do aspire
For a soul inflamed with holy fire,
To burn with an untiring zeal.
O! Master! Master!! Let me feel
The inward throes of Your compassion
As my inner life You gently fashion,
Until men’s eyes can see in me
Thy travail in Gethsemane.
Thy Glory
When Thy Shekinah glory fell,
The priests stood still in awe;
Nor could the great Apostle tell
The glory that he saw
When Thou didst lift him to the sky
To sights unseen by mortal eye.
When Moses stood with unshod feet
And Thy great Presence felt,
No trumpeter could call retreat
While gazing where Thou dwelt!
He listened, raptured by Thy voice,
And strangely did his heart rejoice.
The toilers’ fishing nets were left
In answer to Thy call,
And worldly men, of sense bereft
Before their feet would fall.
Those simple men Thou didst endue
With power original to You.
O Lord, we labor in a day
When men of faith are few,
Now just a remnant watch and pray.
Again we beg—endue
Thy church with apostolic power
For true revival in this hour.
The title of the book is Heart breathings. Click here
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