"O Divine Providence!
Lift to Thy lovers' lips a cup
BRimFULL of anguish.
To the yearners
on Thy pathway,
make sweetness but a sting,
and poison honey-sweet." - SWAB p227
"Walk the Beaten Paths"
In the seed is a darkness
which so few can taste.
MoonLight? Forget it!
Far too few can read.
Drink My Tears!! Oh Friends!
And you'll know my life
Beaten! by a merciful deed. ...ash.502a4199
Dear Friends, my near ones, my
lovers, His lovers, the adored ones;
I have such a grievous story to tell,
a story of rupture, this!
my story of rapture's bliss;
this story of my own little child.
He was only seven years old, dear friends,
and as far as he knew, he had lived a perfect life.
As far as he knew, he'd led a happy and perfect childhood,
as if he'd been born a believer, been born a knower,
born a true lover - the true Faith poured through
his little heart without ceasing, without flaw,
He'd been born in heaven and there he'd stayed.
Until one day. Until that day. When somehow,
(and no one, no one knows why) he decided
to take that great step
on the wings of his perfect little faith,
and dedicate his tiny little heart,
and his little,bitty earthly life,
and the fullness of itsy's-bitsy sainthood,
to his Christ, his Lord; to his peerless Father, God.
He'd heard Him knocking, "o little one",
on his wooden, "would'nt you?" heavy door,
of his own little pinochio childish heart,
and finally he decided to answer, and say,
okay dear Jesus, please, do come in, please?
enter, make yourself at home. Make this, your home.
It's all yours now. And i'll go somewhere else.
I'll just be over hear in the corner, in the dark
somewhere, but You come in. It's yours now.
So here it is. And i'll do
whatever you show me,
whatever i must do. just to show You, just
to prove it's yours, to make it yours. I'll do
what i can do, to make it like (in every little way i can)
to make it somehow, somewhat like where You came from.
So visit here often. And stay here always. And
Never Leave! Please! Jesus! Please! Don't ever!
leave me here alone. Not ever, ever, ever, again.
And so He did. And so he was. And so something in him
died that morning, and something else was born,
and he never understood it, though he knew it well,
but there it was; and it was him, somehow;
was His, was his, and he was his Lord's.
And the rains fell upon him
like every spring floods nature
with such a grand and tender beauty of life and color,
and such downpours of heavy, slippery, luscious
raindrops the size of buckets falling
in his little life, and shining down
brilliantly on his paths,
and his mistakes,
and his attainments.
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