Excerpts from "Heart Breathings"
By Leonard Ravenhill

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    It is Hell, It is Hell in My Soul

    No peace like a river attendeth my way, 
      My sorrows like sea-billows roll.  
    This heart-breaking lot has just taught me to say, 
      It is hell, it is hell in my soul.  
    My sin - O the grief of this guilt in my heart - 
      My anguish, not part, but the whole,  
    All adds up to loss, and I bear it alone; 
      It is hell, it is hell in my soul.  
    Now Satan can buffet, sore trials can come, 
      When life is all out of control;  
    My conscience just burns, and dark memories haunt, 
      It is hell, it is hell in my soul.  
    But, Lord, haste the day that will chase off this night, 
      And scatter this doom from my soul.  
    With tears I repent, so, dear Lord, let me know 
      There is hope and relief for my soul.  
    With great condemnation I fall at Thy cross,
      To confess, not in part, but the whole
    Of a sin-blighted life, and to cry to be cleansed, 
      And to plead, "Take control of my soul."  
    Only then can I joy and rejoice as I sing 
      Now it's well, it is well with my soul.  


    They spilled out from the upper room 
    Not cowering or clothed with gloom. 
    They were ablaze with holy fire, 
    Fully consumed with one desire - 
    To know and to be known by Him 
    Who purged them from defiling sin, 
    To let the Temple crowd just see 
    How holy simple men can be.  
    By God they formed a holy band 
    Who would, through Him, possess the land. 
    They formed a special holy crew, 
    - A deacon band, something quite new. 
    Men Christ saved to the uttermost; 
    Purged and filled with the Holy Ghost. 
    They heard from God that His first choice 
    Was one called Stephen, a faith-filled youth.  
    This flaming soul, with holy power, 
    Did wonders and miracles by the hour. 
    The other apostles, beaten and in jail, 
    Were not in fear - they just prevailed. 
    They could not be intimidated. 
    Why? Just because they were related 
    To One above upon a Throne 
    Who kept His touch upon His own.  
    The more men beat this holy crew
    The more their testimony grew.
    Never did men of any nation
    Hear anywhere a greater oration 
    Than that which Bro. Stephen gave, 
    Choosing not *his* life to save.  
    Into an outer court they led him, 
    Battered his body, stoned and bled him. 
    He saw that crowd through blooded eyes, 
    He further saw - into the skies, 
    And, surely to his great surprise, 
    He saw his Lord and Savior rise 
    Before the throne at God's right hand 
    To welcome him to his Homeland!  

    I Kiss Thy Rod

    I bow my head, my Holy God, 
    To kiss Thy loving, chastening rod, 
    Because I know, how oft You smite, 
    It only can be true and right. 
    I want my simple life to be 
    A living copy, Lord, of Thee, 
    In love and Thy humility, 
    A humble, lowly, contrite heart 
    With truth set in the inward part. 
    Dear God, I really do aspire 
    For a soul inflamed with holy fire, 
    To burn with an untiring zeal. 
    0! Master! Master!! Let me feel 
    The inward throes of Your compassion 
    As my inner life You gently fashion, 
    Until men's eyes can see in me 
    Thy travail in Gethsemane.  

    The Sweet Love of Jesus

    0, the sweet, sweet love of Jesus,
      Vaster, deeper than the sea,
    Flowing in majestic fulness 
      From His throne right down to me.  
    Love before me, love behind me, 
      Love beneath and love above.  
    Love beyond man's full dimension,
    Love beyond man's comprehension,
      Holy, awesome, endless love
    Showered in mercy from His throne
    Just for those He claims His own.  

    Thy Sweet Correction

    How can I, Lord, repine 
    When I am surely Thine, 
    And, yet more wondrous still, 
    I know and do Thy will. 
    O Lord, what bliss is this 
    To know Thy soothing inward kiss! 
    To know Thee in a new dimension, 
    To welcome *all* Thy sweet correction, 
    And goads that lead me to perfection. 
    Thy rebukes are good for me, 
    They purge for deeper chastity, 
    They draw me closer to Thy breast, 
    And there, and only there, dear Lord, is perfect rest! 
    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 

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