Excerpts from "Heart Breathings"
By Leonard Ravenhill

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     The Calvary Track
     They turned it into a circus,
       And the Actor writhed and fell.  
     They baptized Him with oaths and curses  
       As He tried to save them from hell.  
     They burned with the fires of their pagan lust,  
       He burned with a heart of love.  
     In the ragged road of a vassal king,  
       He staggered beneath His load -  
     Not the chafing wood upon His back,  
       But a greater, invisible load.  
     The angels wept at His bloody brow  
       And the spittle upon His cheek;  
     They knew He could turn those men to stone,  
       But He acted - Oh! so meek.  
     He fell in the dust - from which men came  
       And from which He would lift them high;  
     And He carried a billion, billion sins  
       As He staggered on to die.  
     He turned not back on that Calvary track  
       With its grief and humiliation,  
     He had planned way back in eternity  
       For us and for our salvation.  
         Alone in dark Gethsemane -
           O Lord, how could it be? -  
         He had to cry in agony,
           "Thy billows go over Me!"  
     He knew full well, it was black as hell.  
       If God's will He consummated.  
     When for men like me, He went to that Tree -  
       For souls He had created!  

     Oh, Wonder of Wonders!
     Oh, wonder of wonders!  
       My God, can it be 
     That Jesus has died  
       For one rebel like me? 
     He lifted my bondage  
       And soul's misery. 
     The Lord, King of Glory,  
       Was wounded for me!  
     They led Him to trial;  
       They spit in His face. 
     He bore it alone -
       Oh! Amazing His grace! 
     He bowed 'neath His burden,  
       Was scourged in my place, 
     I'll sing it forever -  
       "Amazing His Grace!"  
     With hands full of mercy,
       With heart full of good, 
     My spotless Redeemer  
       Was nailed to the wood. 
     He suffered hell's torment  
       My soul to set free, 
     Deserted by God  
       As He hung on the tree.  
     He died, but He rose!
       He extracted death's sting! 
     He's living enthroned -
       My Savior, my King!  
     Let the earth hear His Voice,  
       Men and angels proclaim:  
     "He's coming! He's coming!  
       "He's coming again!"  
     With the saints marching in,  
       (I shall be in that throng!)  
     In the great "Hallelujahs,"  
       (I'll join in that song!)  
     With apostles and prophets,  
       But best, Lord, with Thee,  
     I shall live, I shall live,  

     The Victor's Pathway
     I could not live without Thee -  
       My Lord, I would not try!  
     Earth has ten thousand pitfalls -
       I never would get by!  
     But, with Thy Holy Presence,  
       Thy Promises inspire;  
     I tread the victor's pathway -
       Dear Lord, I'm climbing higher!  
     Thy Glory and Thy Majesty
     Thy Glory and Thy Majesty 
     Are seldom, Lord, revealed to me. 
     My sight is dim, my senses dumb, 
     I seldom dwell on "Kingdom come." 
     Men dwell among the things that rust, 
     We live in time - with all its dust. 
     I would my interests relocate, 
     And dwell on Thee, my God so great, 
     And contemplate Thy Majesty, 
     Concentrate on Thy Deity, 
     Thus cheat the thieving things of time, 
     Dwell on Thy Holiness sublime, 
     Thy matchless beauty fill my gaze, 
     And worship Thee through all my days! 
     And then - ah! - then, Eternity, 
     Boundless, unmarred felicity! 
     No more to sigh, only to sing 
     In rapturous praises to our King, 
     To gaze with rapture on His Face 
     And sing and sing Amazing Grace!  
     Call Back
     If you are far ahead of me
       Along life's winding track,
     If you have real supremacy
       As you carry your loaded pack,
     If you have found some energy
       That lets you know no lack,
     Friend, share your secret now with me -
       I ask you, please call back!
     Some who went ahead of me
       Endured the thumbscrew and the rack.  
     In biting pain they felt it gain  
       To endure and not turn back.  
     They were sawn asunder, torn in two,  
       Their bodies were beaten black.  
     But they went the last mile with a song and a smile  
       For the One Who turned not back!  
     Now let me tell of the living hell
       Some saints endure today;  
     To be tied in a sack or stretched on the rack  
       Would seem an easier way.  
     But they die by the inch, and they do not flinch  
       As they tread their prison track;  
     And they inwardly sing to Christ their King  
       That they'll never, no never, turn back!  
     It's a steep, rough road that leads to God -
       We must climb its hill with a will
     To carry our load on the toughest road,  
       His purpose to fulfill.  
     There may be strain, there may be pain,  
       And the food may seem "hard-tack";  
     But He made it plain, there's eternal gain  
       For the one who turns not back!  
     The Heroic C. T. Studd
     Old Charlie was a cricketer,
       (As most of you will know);
     And when he played the lordly game
       He always stole the show.
     He "drove" and "pulled" and "pushed" and "cut"
       That ball with lots of ease;
     And to bewildered bowlers
       Charlie was a tiresome tease.
     But Charlie quit the game one day;
       He gave away his bat
     With a "Hallelujah!" and a grin,
       And then hung up his hat.
     The vision Charlie had received
       Made cricket look so minor
     He gladly counted all things loss
       And sailed away to China.
     For Charlie made "The Cambridge Seven"
       (Oh, what a regal crew!);
     He said, "I'm going now, dear Lord,  
       What wilt Thou have me do?"  
     With Smith and Polhill and the rest  
       He did a man-size task,
     And tackled any ugly thing  
       The Lord did ever ask.  
     When Charlie got to fifty-three,  
       He sat and asked himself
     If now his work was finished here  
       And he left on the shelf.  
     But suddenly the challenge came,  
       And he, with heart aglow,
     Set out to face a greater task  
       Locked in the dark Congo.  
     Dear Charlie was "a fool for Christ"  
       With never a lament,  
     And counted nothing sacrifice,  
       But gladly he was spent.  
     "If Jesus Christ be God," he said,  
       "And He has died for me,  
     "O shame to talk of suffering  
       "In the light of Calvary."  
     Aye, Charlie loved and dared for God;  
       No man who lived was bolder.  
     Oh where's the man who'd ever dare  
       Call Studd a chocolate soldier?  
     In God alone he trusted,  
       And God a hero made,  
     And in him God prepared a womb  
       To birth a great Crusade!  
     In this hour of great declension  
       We wish the churches would  
     Furnish ten thousand heroes  
       With hearts aflame like Studd.       
     We'd roll back dark apostasy  
       In every land and nation,  
     And, through this mighty rescue shop,  
       Steal millions from damnation.  
     Eternal Night
     Eternal night! Eternal night!  
       How dark that night will be
     For millions who've not had the Light
     But who had every human right
       To share that Light with me!  
     When we shall stand around Christ's throne,  
       We'll surely be remiss
     That they have never, never known
     Salvation through His blood alone,
       What tragedy is this!  
     Oh, how shall I, whose present sphere  
       Is to be cleansed and free,
     Stand uncondemned before Thy throne
     While millions die - in hell to groan
       For all eternity.  
     Arm of the Lord, awake, awake,  
       Thy church cleanse and renew;
     And sanctify, endue with power,
     Then thrust her forth this very hour
       Thy perfect will to do. 
    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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