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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| Sorry, I don't really know what to say. I miss reading everyones' blogs, but I'm not feelin' the motivation anymore. 
Maybe someday. I miss you all. | | |
| I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remains
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
The battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
And wash the feet and cleanse my pride
Take the selfish, take the weak,
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
The sin and soaked heart and make it yours
Take my world all apart
Take it now, take it now
And serve the ones that I despise
Speak the words I can't deny
Watch the world I used to love
Fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
So wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remain
So steal my heart and take the pain
Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
Take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
Take my world apart... | | |
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Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live? The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest. But to live- to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harrassing servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered- this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour- this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman. | | |
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