I dream and dream again, whereupon I am lost in a wilderness of my own making. The love of the Lord is a splash of cold water upon my face and body, and I awake to a light which is touched by a holy fire. I am not but a wanderer in a world I do not understand; I walk in places which are strange to me, which are strange for men to encounter. Lest I become proud, I am beaten down into a perfect kneel and am thankful for it. I am thankful for it all, all the little sufferings and boredoms, the terrors I have felt at times.
Let me be bold now and then — the larger voices will let me into their wake — and I may ride upon the winds which spill even from the shadows of Him above. Let me not think, "I have seen too much to be forgotten from on high." Let me never rest from the charge I know I have: that I must serve the most high God, and be his herald; that I give not glory to mine own self but work to the praise of Him above; that I must love as my Lord Jesus Christ loved us, if that be possible in all humility. My hope gains light and casts a faith in my heart. Let me be ever thankful.
kamina