Excerpts from "Heart Breathings"
By Leonard Ravenhill

Home Spanish Messages Articles Meditate Bio-Sketches Maxims Books Archive

Tapes E-Mail Subscribe

    A Talk at the Wellside

    She came to the well - 'twas her custom,
      With waterpot, burden, and care;
    Came at noonday so no one would see her,
      And found just a Stranger sat there.

    He asked for a drink of well-water.
      (How deep her need only He knew!)
    She asked, "Can a Samaritan woman
      Give drink to a thirsty young Jew?"

    He said, "You should have living water
      That needeth no earthenware pot."
    She gazed with a wide-eyed amazement
      And wondered what secret He'd got.

    She said, "Art Thou greater than Jacob,
      Our father, who gave us the well?"
    She stayed, and she listened enraptured
      To all that the Stranger could tell.

    He said, "Thou dost draw of this water,
      But comest again and again;
    I can give thee the life-giving Water
      And in thee a well will remain!"

    She answered, "Oh give me this water!"
      But hardly did she understand.
    He said to the woman bewildered,
      "Away, and call thy husband."

    She started this deep conversation
      And secretly wished she could stop it,
    For now, to her great consternation,
      She found that this Man was a prophet.

    Before, she had talked at the wellside
      And often enjoyed the short tryst;
    But knew not on this great occasion
      She talked with the Savior, the Christ.

    She said, "When Messias cometh,
      How wonderful He will be!
    For He shall tell us of all things."
      He answered, "I, Woman, am He."

    Away to the city to tell it,
      The news that could never be priced:
    "Oh come, hear a Man Who knows all things!
       I found Him, and He is the Christ."

    Lord, Don't Ask Me

    I'm just a week-kneed Christian,
       So, Lord, don't ask of me
    That I go to the battle front
       To do exploits there for Thee.

    I like to read of courage
       And Christians who make their mark;
    But, Lord, that's surely not for me;
       I'm quiet and hate the dark!

    I sometimes lie in bed at night, 
       And it upsets my quiet
    To think of heathen far away,
       Diseased and drunk in riot.

    0 Lord, a coward then I feel
       As in my bed I sink;
    I'd like to sleep, forget it all,
       But I just think and think.

    I muse on that great final day
       When at Thy throne I stand.
    With flaming eyes You look at me
       And, under great duress,
    I see excuses torn from me;
       I stand in nakedness

    And hear You say, "You called me 'Lord,'
       And did not things I say.
    You missed your glorious, great reward,
       You toyed your life away.
    "You did not read and pray aright,
       Gave time to eat and drink,
    And left the heathen far away
       To fall, fall right o'er the brink

   "Of time, to hell's eternity
       To grope in endless night.
    You could have stretched a hand to save,
       You could have changed that plight

    "Less comfort had You had on earth;
       Then scores of precious souls
    Had got the truth, and by your help
       Had reached God's offered goals."

    From all my folly, Lord, I turn,
       I'll do as well as say;
    And, from this hour, may all my works
       Survive the judgment day.

    This I Know

    Lord, I love Thee, this I know
    For my conscience tells me so;
    Sin I served for long, too long,
    I was weak, but it was strong.

        Savior, I love Thee,
        Savior, I love Thee,
        Savior, I love Thee,
        And love to tell Thee so.

    Lord, I love Thee and will stay
    In this love-life all the way;
    Jesus Savior is my song
    In the night and all day long.

    Lord, I love Thee, love Thee still 
    With my heart and soul and will; 
    Through Thy Cross I've perfect peace,
    By Thy power have sweet release

    Lord I love Thee for Thy grace,
    And I long to see Thy face;
    I will love Thee till I die, 
    Love Thee then for eons on high.

    Lord, my love can only be
    That Thou first hast loved me.
    I love Thee much, I'd love Thee more;
    All Thy love through me outpour.

    I Did the Will of God

    I fled Him when His grace pursued,
         I did despite unto His name,
    And delved me into sin so rude
         That there my soul enforged a chain.

    When captive to my own desire, 
         When blue with guilt and unnamed shame,
    His long arm reached into the mire
         And plucked me out - blest be His name!

    Shall I leave others in their woe?
         Shall I ignore their cries who sink?
    Forbid it, Lord; I'll rise and go
         'Twixt Thee and them to be a link.

    Unwearied may I lift the load
         Of those who stagger 'neath sin's spell; 
    Stab my poor heart with love's strong goad 
         To battle powers of earth and hell.

    Earth's little strand is far too small
         To barter for the judgment day,
    When Powers and thrones and wealth and all 
         Forever shall have passed away.
    Oh, Day of days, when I shall be
         The cynosure of ten million eyes, 
    Oh, may my Savior say to me,
         "Well done," as my eternal prize.

    When unsupported I shall stand 
         Before Thy blazing bema seat, 
    Give me, my Lord, to understand, 
         I did the will of God complete.

    I Am a Slave

    I am a slave!  I have no will, no claim 
       To property, to time or sleep.
    I am a slave, and bear my Owner's Name! 
       His ways are mine; with Him I joy or weep.

    I am a slave! No tears are spent for ease, 
       Nor do I freedom crave;
    I willing slave am I to follow to the grave 
       My Master.  Bless His Name!

    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