If I could melt into His arms, where no hurt can touch me, I would be moulded to Him, His shape, His form, His likeness.
Melt me like wax and pour me over Him that I might be a perfect form of His likeness.
But in order to melt the fire must be hot, the furnace blazing. The wax falls drop by drop... like tears falling on His face until it is completely covered.... yet His image shines through. Only His face is visable, the wax is transparent! Only His features are seen.
The fire dies down, the furnace cools, but the wax remains soft and pliable from the warmth of His gaze and the fire of His love..... mould me, make me to look like You Jesus.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment