The fire of ambition has been waxing strong, fed by the fuel of my evanescent, rainbow‐dreams. As often as one dream faded away, a new one, as persistent as the last, burst open, flower‐like, in my heart, only to wither and die. The lightning of disaster struck, consuming not once but many times my garden of hopes, as flames destroyed even my very powers of renewal.

My garden was once green with life, but as the gray ghosts of half‐dead hopes and low vitality glided in, surrounded by dark doubts, I began to fear. Would they frighten me as, with timid footsteps, I turned at last toward Thee?

Come to my aid, O Divine Friend! Give me the strength now to be ambitious only in my quest for Thee.


166. We Buy Everything But Thee. Pray Give Me Thyself.