Some two hundred years ago the saintly Madam Guyon, after ten years in a dungeon lying far below the surface of the ground, lit only by a candle at mealtimes, wrote these words.
"A LITTLE BIRD AM I,
NOUGHT HAVE I ELSE TO DO
MY CAGE CONFINES ME ROUND;
AH! IT IS GOOD TO SOAR
SHUT FROM THE FIELDS OF AIR;
YET IN MY CAGE I SIT AND SING
TO HIM WHO PLACED ME THERE;
WELL PLEASED A PRISONER TO BE,
BECAUSE, GOD, IT PLEASES THEE
I SING THE WHOLE DAY LONG;
AND HE WHOM MOST I LOVE TO PLEASE,
DOTH LISTEN TO MY SONG;
HE CAUGHT AND BOUND MY WANDERING WING
BUT STILL HE BENDS TO HEAR ME SING
ABROAD I CANNOT FLY;
BUT THOUGH MY WING IS CLOSELY BOUND,
MY HEART'S AT LIBERTY,
MY PRISON WALLS CANNOT CONTROL
THE FLIGHT, THE FREEDOM OF THE SOUL.
THESE BOLTS AND BARS ABOVE,
TO HIM WHOSE PURPOSE I ADORE,
WHOSE PROVIDENCE I LOVE;
AND IN THY MIGHTY WILL TO FIND
THE JOY, THE FREEDOM OF THE MIND"
Hurry on Butch to!
PlEASE OUT
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THE LORD'S SUPPER, by Joe Slowiaczek
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WATER BAPTISM, by Joe Slowiaczek