I pray

Not the mote in my brother's eye
That I disapprove,
But the beam in mine,
Dear God, help me remove.

Not the distorted worldly view
That seems to be,
But Your likeness—the real and perfect man—
Dear God, help me to see.

Not for the fleeting, temporal things
That pass away,
But for the everlasting, secret bounty
In Your Word,
Dear God, I pray.

Della Sanford Beck

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Article
A definite, living presence
January 2, 1978
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