Near the end of Chapter 3, titled The Direction of the Mind, there was a poem that I felt. Do you know what I mean by that? I mean, really feeling a poem. You feel it down deep because you have experienced what the author is describing. I may not have actually written those exact words, but it felt like I did.
I don't know if the poem had a title or not. I am also not really sure who actually wrote it. It is simply sitting at the end of a section about honesty in prayer. Not only being open and honest before God, but also willing to hear the honesty from God as He might bring things to mind while you are praying. Things you might have to deal with.
I want to continue to give you the background to this bit of writing, but instead, I am just going to share it with you:
Lord, here I hold within my trembling hand,This will of mine - a thing which seemeth small;And only Thou, O Christ, canst understandHow, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all.
I've been there. Had my will, my wants, my dreams, clenched firmly in my grip. I am sure to most, it wouldn't have seemed like much, but Christ knew. He knew that to yield this to Him was yielding everything. To finally release, lay it at His feet and say, "Lord, whatever you want. Even that." Those were hard words.It hath been wet with tears, and stained with sighsClenched in my grasp till beauty hath it none;Now, from Thy footstool where it prostrate liesThe prayer ascendeth, Let Thy will be done.
I urge you. I plead with you, if you are reading this blog, to begin your prayers with a heart that is willing to give your all, to yield to the will of God.