In the summer days of life, teach me to gather honey from the flowers of all spiritual qualities that blossom in the garden of truthful souls.

I will store the perfume of forgiveness in the honeycomb of my heart: the lotus fragrance of humility; myrrh‐scented devotion; the rare honey of all soul‐qualities. And even though the snowflakes of wintry experiences and earthly separations whirl about me, I shall seek Thee in the honeycomb of my heart where often I have found Thee, stealing the stored honey of my devotion.

Wherever Thou hast come—in every place hallowed by Thy feet—I will lie, touching Thy footprints. Ah! there alone will I find a place of true safety.


62. Teach Me to Give Sweet Forgiveness, Though Crushed by Criticism