Excerpts from "Heart Breathings"
By Leonard Ravenhill

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    In Thy Storehouse

    There are riches in Thy storehouse,
          But, my Lord, we are so poor.
    There is power in Thy storehouse,
          But the cripple clothes our door. 
    There is wisdom in Thy storehouse,
          But in ignorance we grope.
    There's revival in Thy storehouse,
          But we've millions without hope.

    There is freedom in Thy storehouse,
          But Thy people are so bound.
    There is glory in thy storehouse,
          But it does not shine around. 
    There is love within Thy storehouse,
          But Thy people are so dry.  
    There's compassion in Thy storehouse -- 
          Then my Savior, why, oh why 
    Are Thy people stony -- hearted
          And our eyes so desert dry?

    The Heathen

    I'm gazing now in the jungle green
    With a people whose bodies, not fit to be seen, 
    Are crusted with dirt and distorted in belly,
    With louse-packed hair and revoltingly smelly, 
    A woman now swings her naked breast 
    To the mouth of a babe who was never dressed.

    She sits in a house with mangy dogs
    (The best of the room is reserved for hogs).
    The husband knows nothing of horses or cows,
    But boasts his wealth by his fertile sows.
    The place is fit only for hogs and dogs
    That snooze by the fire of smoldering logs.

    I have seen them crouched in the desert heat,
    I have heard the thud of their unshod feet,
    I have seen them shake an unwashed head
    As they cringed at the feet of their unsaved dead.
    O God, it seems to be madly absurd
    That they knew not Christ or Thy holy Word.

    They have gone to hell while we slept in our pews;
    While we argued doctrine, we denied them news.
    We've reclined in plush and saved our knees,
    We have had it lush and forgotten these
    Who grope in fear in the heathen night.
    Had we loved them once, we'd have sent them light.

    O Christ, by the power of Thy holy Name,
    Give Thy flabby Church a heart of shame.
    Smite her cold conscience, buckle her knees,
    That she has lacked concern for these
    Who have, generation by generation,
    Been lost to Thine own "so great salvation."

    Oh God, on that day, that Judgment Day,
    When homes and banks have been swept away,
    And there is no place of habitation
    For any man in any nation,
    Then every man must stand alone
    Before the King on His judgment throne.

    What shall I do when the heathen stand
    And accuse that I seldom lent a hand
    To save them from pain and eternal woe,
    And stayed in my ease but made others go
    With a message I knew, I knew full well
    Could save them from sin and fear and hell?

    O God, my God, in that dreadful day 
    When all excuses are tossed away
    And there's no time left to repent or cry
    As earthly treasures in ashes lie,
    Then Lord, oh, Lord, what shall I say
    For the money and time I have frittered away?

    Men of Blood

         There's a burden to be lifted,
         And a barrier to be shifted
    It would seem God's need is supermen today.
         Wicked rulers in high places
         Seem intent to ruin races,
    While the Christians make their daisy chains and play.

         God has need of soldiers true;
         Demons laugh, recruits are few,
    So that death and hell and Satan have their sway.
         No! My son, the task's not done,         Scarcely has it yet begun,
    Men -- all classes -- totter to the grave;
         To that great eternal night,
         With no ray of hope in sight,
    Tramp lost millions whom our Jesus died to save.

          Gracious God, our hearts inspire, 
          Touch us with celestial fire,
    Give us burning heart, and bursting lips, and brimming eyes, 
          Strength of purpose, power of will, 
          There's a place for us to fill
    And a victor's crown awaiting in the skies!

    Calvary's Tree

    I know that I shall never see
    A tree like that on Calvary,
    A tree on which men, poor and blind,
    Defiled the Savior of mankind.
    That sin was done by fools like me,
    But God Himself was on that tree!

    I love to think, as He hung there --
    No eye to pity, none to care,
    Victim of hate, betrayed and cursed,
    Cut off from God, dying in thirst --
    I love to think He thought of me
    When hanging there upon the tree.

    I joy to know He'll come again,
    Who on a tree by man was slain.
    I'll count myself among the wise
    Who wait His coming from the skies;
    Not from a tree, but from a throne
    He soon shall rule this world alone.

    (Dedicated to Gary Johnson)

    Nearer, Still Nearer

    Nearer, still nearer, I draw to Thee,
    All through the offering that Thou gavest me.
    Jesus my Savior, God's only Son,
    Paid my redemption; now barriers are gone;
    Paid my redemption; now barriers are gone.

    Nearer, still nearer, Lord, I would come
    All through the merits of Thine only Son;
    His perfect offering cleanses my heart,
    Now to this temple Thy Spirit impart;
    Now to this temple Thy Spirit impart.

    Nearer, still nearer; come more and more.
    Jesus my Master, I long to adore
    Thee  for Thy mercy, patience and power;
    Thee will I worship, rejoice evermore;
    Thee will I worship, rejoice evermore.

    Nearer, still nearer, down at Thy feet,
    Through Thy atonement my offering's complete.
    Sanctify body, spirit, and soul,
    My all is utterly 'neath Thy control;
    My all is utterly 'neath Thy control.

    The Revival Song

    (Tune: "There Shall be Showers")

    Lord, we are hungry for blessing,
          This is in tune with Thy Word;
    Now, as our need we're confessing,
          Give us new hearts, cleansed and stirred.

    Visit our city,
      Lord, save our nation, we pray.
    Quicken our love and our zeal, and
      Send us revival today!

    Great is the need of our nations,
          Great is the need of this hour;
    Lord, we abhor our stagnation,
          Answer with Holy Ghost power.
    Look on our great desperation,
          Hold back Thy judgment we pray;
    Move through the length of our nation,
          Open Thy windows today.

    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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