Language of the soul

No outward observances can take the place of simple faith and entire renunciation of self. But no man can empty himself of self. We can only consent for Christ to accomplish the work. Then the language of the soul will be, Lord, take my heart; for I cannot give it. It is Thy property. Keep it pure, for I cannot keep it for Thee. Save me in spite of myself, my weak, unchristlike self. Mold me, fashion me, raise me into a pure and holy atmosphere, where the rich current of Thy love can flow through my soul. {COL 159.3}
Sigh. Contentment. Peace and quiet joy.

Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
At the impulse of Thy love;

Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Take my voice and let me sing
Always only for my King;
Always only for my King;

Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold:
Not a mite would I withhold

Take my will, and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store:
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.

Frances Ridley Havergal