Lord, let Your voice beckon me. To places far and wide, to oceans deep and mountains high, to walk where You lead and go where You go. I pray thee Lord, lead me so I can follow You and do the works You called me since along of time to do.

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.

Heaven is an inheritance; we must take that for our home, our rest, our everlasting good, and look upon this world to be no more ours than the country through which is our road to our Father’s House