Frances Ridley Havergal Quotes

Teach us, Master, how to give
All we have and are to Thee;
Grant us, Saviour, while we live,
Wholly, only Thine to be.

Doubt indulged soon becomes doubt realized.

Silence is no certain token that no secret grief is there; Sorrow which is never spoken is the heaviest load to bear.

Take my will, and make it Thine, It shall be no longer mine; Take my heart, it is Thine own; It shall be Thy royal throne.

I take this pain, Lord Jesus,
From Thine own hand;
The strength to bear it bravely
Thou wilt command.
I am too weak for effort.
So let me rest,
In hush of sweet submission
On Thine own breast.

Hidden in the hollow Of His blessed hand, Never foe can follow, Never traitor stand; Not a surge of worry, Not a shade of care, Not a blast of hurry Touch the Spirit there.

We give thanks often with a tearful, doubtful voice, for our spiritual mercies positive, but what an almost infinite field there is for mercies negative! We cannot even imagine all that God has allowed us not to do, not to be.

Writing is praying with me. You know a child would look up at every sentence and say, 'And what shall I say next?' That is just what I do; I ask Him that at every line He would give me not merely thoughts and power, but also every word, even the very rhymes.

I do - oh, indeed I do - desire to live up to my profession, to be His, for time and eternity. But I am learning to sec how very weak I am, and how easily Satan can conquer me even when I do strive against him. I do believe with my head that Jesus can, and will give me His grace, and I do not need to fear, yet somehow my heart seems to be hard and cold and not to take it in. Oh, if we were but there - where there is no more sin ! Oh do not forget to pray for me, and don't ever doubt the love of your unworthy friend.

Earthly joy can take but a bat-like flight, always checked, always limited, in dusk and darkness. But the love of Christ breaks through the vaulting, and leads us up into the free sky above, expanding to the very throne of Jehovah, and drawing us still upward to the infinite heights of glory.

Poetry is a second translation of the soul's feeling; it must be rendered into thought, and thought must change its nebulous robe of semi-wording into definite language, before it reaches another heart. Music is a first translation of feeling, needing no second, but entering the heart direct.

Do what Thou wilt! Yes, only do
What seemeth good to Thee;
Thou art so loving, wise, and true,
It must be best for me.

A great deal of living must go to a very little writing.

Love understands love; it needs no talk.

CHRISTMAS DAY Jesus came! - and came for me. Simple words! and yet expressing Depths of holy mystery, Depths of wondrous love and blessing. Holy Spirit, make me see All His coming means for me; Take the things of Christ, I pray, Show them to my heart today.

Oh to be my verse an answering gleam from higher radiance caught

Faithfulness to principle is only proved by faithfulness in detail.