Thoughts Concerning the King by Elizabeth Prentiss

Thoughts Concerning the King by Elizabeth Prentiss

There is certainly enough in our Savior, if we only open our eyes that we may see it, to solve every doubt and satisfy every longing of the heart; and He is willing to give it in full measure. If a glimpse of our Savior here on earth can be so refreshing, so delightful, what will it be in Heaven?

When my mind strives to grasp this love of Christ, it seems to struggle in vain with its own littleness, and falls back weary and exhausted, to wonder again at the heights and depths which surpass its comprehension.

In proportion to your devotion to the Savior will be the blessedness of your life.

I am persuaded that real humility dwells deep within the heart, and that it is only to be gained by communion with our blessed Savior, who, when He was reviled, reviled not again.

The greatest saint on earth has got to reach Heaven on the same terms as the greatest sinner; unworthy, unfit, good-for-nothing; but saved through grace.

In proportion to our love to Christ, will be the agony of terror lest we should sin and fall, and so grieve and weary Him.

One minute of nearness to the Lord Jesus contains more delight than years spent in communion with any earthly friend.

If the loss of your earthly fortune gains Christ for you, it will be a beautiful loss.

The more we love Him, the more we see how sinful sin is, and the more sorry we are to have been guilty of it.

I entreat you to turn your eyes away from self, from man, and look to Christ.

Let us never allow anything to come between our hearts and our God.

It is sweet to be in the sunshine of the Master's smile, but I believe our souls need winter as well as summer, night as well as day.

The Safe Place.
I went to Jesus with a prayer
Upon a suppliant's knee;
Low at His cross I laid me down,
Nor asked His face to see,
Yet whispered in His ear the tale
No mortal ear could bear:
The story of a faithless heart,
And of its self-despair.

I told Him how my feet had slipped,
How often gone astray;
How oft my heart refused to love,
My lips refused to pray.
In stammering words that none but He
Hearing could understand,
I made complaint of careless work
Done by a careless hand.

Of wasted hours, of idle words,
Of love oft waxing dim,
Of silence when a warmer heart
Had testified of Him.
I owned my weak and selfish ways;
How often all day long,
Moanings and sighs had filled His ears
To whom I owed a song.
And what said He? What whispered words
Responded unto mine?
Did He reproach me? Did His love
On me refuse to shine?

Nay, thus He spoke, and bent Him low
To reach my anxious ear,
My child, thou doest well to lie
As thou art lying here ;
I knew thy human weakness, knew
Each lurking bosom sin,
Knew it, and yet in loving grace
Thy heart I stooped to win.

I knew that thou wouldst often fall,
Poor work for Me wouldst do,
Wouldst give Me only half thy love,
Give praises faint and few.
And yet I choose thee. Be content
And since thou canst not fly
To heights by dearer souls attained,
Let it suffice to lie

Here at My feet; it is the place
To which My loved ones flee;
They find it sweet, and so shalt thou;
'Tis a safe place for thee.
Yes, it is sweet, and it is safe!
And here will I abide;
Sinful, and yet forgiven, sad,
And yet so satisfied.