Prodigal: I am singing while I work.

Me: This may help you with word choice.

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;

Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move;

Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou Art,

And make me love Thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,

No sudden rending of the veil of clay,

No angel visitant, no opening skies;

But take the dimness of my soul away.

Hast Thou not bid me love Thee, God and King?

All, all Thine own–soul, heart, and strength, and mind;

I see Thy cross–there teach my heart to cling;

O let me seek Thee, and O let me find!

Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;

Teach me to the struggles of the soul to bear,

To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh;

Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,

One holy passion filing all my frame;

The kindling of the heaven-descended Dove,

My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.

George Croly, 1854

Matthew 22:14

For many are called, but few are chosen.

Jennifer Van Allen

www.theprodigalpig.com

www.faithincounseling.org