We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart
resides,
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul
abides;
But tasks in hours of insight willed
Can be through hours of gloom
fulfilled.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Poetry
Normally poetry is a mystery to me but this struck me this morning. It is from "My Utmost for His Highest" by Oswald Chambers on March 22nd. I hope you enjoy it, too.
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