SHE goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do;
Her journey s shorter, so she may endure
Better than they which do much further go.
She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on
The flower or herb appointed for her food ;
The which she quietly doth feed upon,
While others range and glare, but find no good.
And though she doth but very softly go,
However slow her pace be, yet ’tis sure ;
And certainly they that do travel so,
The prize which they do aim at they procure.
Although they seem not much to stir or go,
Who thirst for Christ, and who from wrath do flee ;
Yet what they seek for quickly they come too,
Though it doth seem the furthest off to be.
One act of faith doth bring them to that flower
They so long for, that they may eat and live;
Which to attain is not in other’s power,
Though for it a king’s ransom they would give.
Then let none faint, nor be at all dismay’d,
That life by Christ do seek, they shall not fail
To have it; let them nothing be afraid;
The herb and flower are eaten by the snail.
November 28th, 2010 | by Editor
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