Firstly I commit my Soul into the hands of God, its great and benevolent author.
What an honourable thing is it to be fishers of men! How great an honour shouldst thou esteem it, to be a catcher of souls! We are workers together with God, says the apostle. If God has ever so honoured thee, O that thou knewest it, that thou mightst bless his holy name, that ever made such a poor fool as thee to be a co-worker with him. God has owned thee to do good to those who were before caught. O my soul, bless thou the Lord. Lord, what am I, or what is my father's house, that thou hast brought me to this?
When I had forgotten God, yet I then found He had not forgotten me. Even then He did by His Spirit apply the merits of the great atonement to my soul, by telling me that Christ died for me.
To love Christ more, is the deepest need, the constant cry of my soul Out in the woods and on my bed and out driving, when I am happy and busy, and when I am sad and idle, the whisper keeps going up for more love, more love, more love!
I'm not here to be on display. And my body is not for public consumption. I will not be reduced to an object, or a pair of legs to sell shoes. I'm a soul, a mind, a servant of God. My worth is defined by the beauty of my soul, my heart, my moral character. So I won't worship your beauty standards, and I don't submit to your fashion sense. My submission is to something higher.
In Fact, My Soul And Yours Are The Same, You Appear In Me, I In You.
In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips.
My soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows me whole.
My Soul gave me good counsel, teaching me that the lamp which I carry does not belong to me, and the song that I sing was not generated from within me.
In the midst of regular life, running is the touchstone that breathes adventure into my soul.
I was forced to enter the basement of my soul and look directly at what was hidden there, and to choose, in the face of it all, not death but life.
I have seen the face of Jesus, Tell me not of aught beside, I have heard the voice of Jesus, All my soul is satisfied. All around is earthly splendour Earthly scenes lie fair and bright. But mine eyes no longer see them, For the glory of that light. Light that knows no cloud, no waning, Light wherein I see His face, All His love’s uncounted treasures, All the riches of His grace.
I’ve got to push everything out of mind save the name of Jesus. I say His name over and over again, for as long as fifteen minutes, until I find my soul suspended in what the ancient Celtic Christians called a “thin place”–a state where the boundary between heaven and earth, divine and human, dissolves. You could say that I use the name of Jesus as my koan.
I have one thing that counts, and that is my heart; it burns in my soul, it aches in my flesh, and it ignites my nerves: that is my love for the people and Peron.
My soul is dark with stormy riot: directly traced over to diet.
For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.
Do solemnly swear to love, honor and obey my soul, my path to realization and relationship with a higher, deeper creative power, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, from now and forever more.
I don't belong. Not here. Not now. I have to get back there. The bet was rigged, he made me believe. Now there's darkness in my soul. I want to die . . . again. But I choose to come back, why?
My soul may be returned to the heavens but my heart will remain with you for all eternity.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
I do get scared about the physical danger from drug dealers. But it's not in the same league as the danger I feel eating an $80 lunch with my privileged friends to discuss hunger and poverty. That's when my soul feels imperiled.
I have been a seeker and I still am, but I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teaching of my Soul.
I drove away from my mind everything capable of spoiling the sense of the presence of God.... I just make it my business to persevere in His holy presence... My soul has had an habitual, silent, secret conversation with God.
In thee my soul shall own combined the sister and the friend.
I really believe deep in my soul that we're going to have to step up and face these challenges and be tough and pull together and unify and be creative and be willing to sacrifice.
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