The caravan of my prayers is moving toward Thee. In the eyes of kindness I behold glimmers of Thy mercy. Even the bare trees of dark lives flicker with a myriad glow‐worms of Thy shining life. The caravan of my prayers has been working its way slowly through dry wastes of arid doubts and furious sand‐storms of despondency. Yet, at last, far‐off glimpses of Thy oasis of silent assurance have roused me in my drooping efforts. Eagerly I await the moment when I can dip into Thy revivifying water my parched, thirsty lips of faith, and there drink deeply from Thy well of bliss.


68. Save Us from the Bait of Modern Comforts