August 1: A Little "Want" Hinders Much Freedom

 •  2 min. read  •  grade level: 5
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SA 106:12{EB 3:12{CC 7:10{Many a heart has echoed the little song:
Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee!
And yet those echoes have not been, in every case and at all times, so clear, and full, and firm, so continuously glad as we would wish, and perhaps expected. Some of us have said:
I launch me forth upon a sea
Of boundless love and tenderness;
and after a little we have found, or fancied, that there is a hidden leak in our bark, and though we are doubtless still afloat, yet we are not sailing with the same free, exultant confidence as at first. What is it that has dulled and weakened the echo of our consecration song? What is the little leak that hinders the swift and buoyant course of our consecrated life? It may have arisen from want of the simplest belief in the simplest fact, as well as want of trust in one of the simplest and plainest words our gracious Master ever uttered! The unbelieved fact being simply that He hears us; the untrusted word being one of those plain, broad foundation-stones on which we rested our whole weight, it may be many years ago, and which we had no idea we ever doubted, or were in any danger of doubting now—"Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”
Is this the peace of God, this strange, sweet calm?
The weary day is at its zenith still,
Yet 'Us as if beside some cool, clear rill,
Through shadowy stillness rose an evening psalm,
And all the noise of life were hushed away,
And tranquil gladness reigned with gently soothing sway.
It was not so Just now. I turned aside
With aching head, and heart most sorely bowed;
Around me cares and griefs in crushing crowd,
While only rose the sense, in swelling tide,
Of weakness, insufficiency, and sin,
And fear, and gloom, and doubt, in mighty flood rolled in.
It is not that I feel less weak, but Thou
Wilt be my strength; it Is not that I see
Less sin, but more of pardoning love with Thee,
And all-sufficient grace. Enough! And now
All fluttering thought is stilled, I only rest,
And feel that Thou art near, and know that I am blest.