Excerpts from "Heart Breathings"
By Leonard Ravenhill

Home Spanish Messages Articles Meditate Bio-Sketches Maxims Books Archive

Tapes E-Mail Subscribe


    Yes, east is east and west is west,
          But soon the twain shall meet,
    For all roads north, east, west, and south 
    Shall join -- with pleas from every mouth --
          At Christ's great Judgment Seat.

    It staggers the mind -- that ultimate day --
    With earth's proud empires swept away, 
    When billions rise from their weary bones 
    To mix with kings of the oldest thrones 
    And share with them eternal groans.

    All human values will alter then
    At the greatest judgment known to men.
    Who have nothing now, can have something then,
    Who have something now, may have nothing when
    We stand at the judgment beyond our ken.

    God will view the kings and the conquerors
          Who ruled with pride over millions for years
    And wrote their own vain history
          In other men's blood and sweat and tears.
    Rulers they'll be no longer then
          With terrible power as kings,
    But naked they'll kneel at this judgment,
          Awaiting all that it brings.

    For the angels kept a record,
          Unbiased the game was scored.
    The angels patiently watched it
          Without a critical word.
    But when the books are opened
          Before ten billion men,
    And all is tried by God's blazing eye,
          Will the game be worth it then?

    Jungle Girl

    I looked in her eyes like saucers,
          Just a girl on the Jungle track.
    She was one of the forest's daughters
          With a bundle slung over her back.
    She was naked except for a G-string,
          And as black as a cob of coal,
    But the dirt on her smelly body
          Was white 'gainst the filth of her soul.

    Beneath that skin was a woman,
          Though she looked as wild as a beast;
    But she knew no rights as a woman,
          To say the very least.
    She worked for her man in the daytime,
          She slaked his lust at night --
    A woman, dear Lord, a woman 
          Without her human right.

    O Lord, as things are going,
          It very well might be 
    She'll learn of Communist Russia 
          Before she learns of Thee.

    I flick back a page of my memory
          To our churches and people there 
    Who spend less time a-praying
          Than they do in styling their hair; 
    Those who plan for frivolous parties 
          With frolics and food and fun
    But no cares for the wasted hours 
          With so little praying done.

    O God, dear God, in compassion 
          Look down on our tearless eye;
    Baptize us with Thy Holy passion
          For the heathen we've left to die.

    Lord, Emancipate

    These doubts and fears for many years 
          Have fettered up my soul.                                 
    Oh, blessed Lord, emancipate,
          Come now and take control!

    I now aspire with strong desire
          To be a channel clean.
    Oh, blessed Lord, emancipate, 
          Reign where the "I" has been.

    Oh, take me higher, endue with fire, 
          Thy glory dwell within!
    Oh, blessed Lord, emancipate,
          And keep me free from sin!

    Now free from sin, endue within
          Give Thy compassion -- tears;
    Thou dost, my Lord, emancipate,
          Restore my wasted years.

    At any loss I choose Thy Cross,
          Earth's values I deplore.
    Thy blood doth now emancipate;
          Thy victory I adore!

    Our Status Quo

    Oh, pastor, no, and again, no, no,
    Do not disturb our status quo.
    We love our Zion with cushioned ease
    And ask you not to disturb us -- please?
    After all, we carry a little care,
    And often sing "Sweet Hour of Prayer."
    Dear pastor, we do not understand
    Why you grieve for those in a foreign land.
    We have the sick and needy poor
    Ten yards outside of our own church door.
    And, pastor dear, we often wonder
    Why, at times, you seem to thunder
    Against our hearts -- which you say are cold --
    (It seems to us you are very bold).
    We believe in sin and regeneration,
    Would you have us throw off the recreation
    That gives us fun and makes us sleep?
    Would you have us pray and fast and weep
    For the heathen -- lost, and, you say, damned?
    (A thing we hardly understand)
    Our lives will need re-evaluation
    If we are to care for another nation;
    We have gorgeous homes, soft beds to die on,
    We like it soft in our little Zion.
    Oh, pastor, please again, no, no;
    Do not disturb our status quo.

    Some Work -- Some Shirk

    Some feast, some fast, some laugh, some groan.
         Some fight their way to promotion.
    Some labor and sweat almost unknown;
         Some render unselfish devotion.

    Some even boast of what we have done,
         Some work with consecration;
    Some speak only of Jesus the Son,
         Some are full of self-adoration.

    Some work with an eye on the glory,
         Some work with an eye on the pay;
    Some run with the Lord's blessed story,
         Some work toward the Judgment Day.

    Some tell of Thy great salvation,
         Some bury their talent with care;
    Some seek to evade tribulation,
         Some know the soul-sweat in prayer.

    Some doubt the power of Satan,
         Some think they've "done all" and just stand;
    Some shirk, with skill in evasion,
         Some carry the burden He planned.

    Some work for the night is coming,
         Some toil in the heat of the day;
    Some laze their hours just sunning,
         Some fill their evenings with play.

    Some will rejoice at the Judgement,
         With deeds purified through the flame;
    Some, with their works only ashes,
         Will weep with regret for the shame.

    Excerpts taken from 
    "Heart Breathings" by  Leonard Ravenhill. 
    Used by permission. 
     Copyright 1995 by
    Harvey Christian Publishers, L.L.P.
    United States Address: 
    Harvey Christian Publishers Inc.
    3107 Hwy 321
    Hampton, TN 37658
    Tel / Fax (423) 768 2297
    E-Mail Harveycp@psknet.com

    British Address: 
    Harvey Christian Publishers, L.L.P.
    PO Box 510, Cheadle
    Stoke-on-Trent, ST10 2NQ
    Tel / Fax (01538) 756391 
    E-Mail jjcook@mac.com 

Home Page Spanish Messages Articles Meditations Biographical Sketches Maxims Books Archive Tapes E-Mail Subscribe