SPIRITUAL BREAKFAST

At dawn I sit with precious books at hand,Material senses hushed and clamor stilled,As hidden truths unfold at Love's command,When thought is cleansed from mortal servitude—This is my spiritual breakfast, my true food.With singleness of heart I now partakeOf that same bread which Jesus brokeAnd shared with his disciples as he spokeTo them upon the shore of Galilee.Long had they worked in unrequited toil,Hearts sorrowful and sense rebuked,Until they heard their Master's loving words,"Cast the net on the right side .... and .... find,"And turned with joy to see their risen Lord.Obediently they cast, and then they foundTheir night of fruitless labor was transformedTo glad awakening, with renewed lightAnd bounteous recompense.When on God's care they radically relied,Their empty nets were filled—Love had supplied.

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Editorial
RESISTING TEMPTATION
March 12, 1955
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