Oh diligent seeker
Do not grow weary
Perseverance is needed
In this pursuit
Has He not promised
Great reward
To those who seek with all their heart?
It is Him
He is the prize
Our great reward
Daily seek Him
And be watchful
For oftentimes
You will find
He reveals Himself in unexpected ways
Ignore distraction
Flee temptation
That threatens to slow you in the chase
And run after Him
With all your heart
Shedding every weight that hinders along the way
It is no carrot dangling from a stick
An unobtainable enticement
That we run after
But His sure promise
Of knowing Him
That fuels this pursuit
Cautiously she ventured in
Although an uninvited guest
But there is one that she must see
And a task she must complete
She has brought to Him her best
She approached and unashamed
Poured out her precious, fragrant oil
Disparaged and misunderstood
By those that she thought surely would
Know that He deserved it all
The smell of worship filled the room
As her perfume ran down His head
And with a heart set free from sin
She lavishes her praise on Him
Thanksgiving in each tear she shed
Betrayers and the Pharisees
Look on in scorn and with disdain
For darkened hearts can never see
The glory of a soul set free
And view such lavishness as vain
As Mary, so it is for me
Though once lost, I have tasted grace
And seeing clearly Jesus’ worth
Let my own oil be poured forth
Until that day I see His face
From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee
From fearing when I should aspire
From faltering when I should climb higher
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee
From subtle love of softening things
From easy choices, weakenings
Not thus are spirits fortified
Not this way went the Crucified
From all that dims Thy Calvary
O Lamb of God, deliver me
Give me the love that leads the way
The faith that nothing can dismay
The hope no disappointments tire
The passion that will burn like fire
Let me not sink to be a clod
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God
“What has stripped the seeming beauty from these idols of the earth? Not the sense of right or duty, but the sight of Nobler Birth.
Not the crushing of those idols, with its bitter pain and smart,
but the beaming of His Beauty, the unveiling of His Heart.
‘Tis the look that melted Peter, ‘tis the face that Stephen saw,
‘tis the heart that wept with Mary, can alone from idols draw.
Draw, and win, and fill completely till the cup o’erflow the brim;
What have we to do with idols, who have companied with Him?”
He is my Delight 