I rise and set about trying to become holy. Constant prayer, works, denial of comfort. I am shut up in a devotion-closet.

Could it be that instead you call us into the world? While I hide on bent knees, the needs of the people around me grow. My hurting neighbor, my despairing enemy – all in need. The river rushes on; I remain on shore.

You said: love, love – and I wrongly heard a call to retreat. You were calling me forth.

You made me sturdy, Lord. Let me cease this resting and hiding.

Grant me wherewithal that I may wet my ankles, carrying friend and foe alike across the stream on my steady back.

(Letter #2,508)

I am home after a long journey. Snug in harbor, wrapped against wind.

Now with harrowing adventures passed, the morning chores beckon. My breath mist in the cool dawn. Water and wood must be got.

How long to remain idle, Lord? A flame was lit in my heart.

Shall I sing working-songs of my travels, Lord? Will the flame thus be passed?

Let not fame dog me. Thank you, Lord, for the morning of work.

(Letter #2,507)

I have stacked these rocks into a fine wall, and fashioned a handsome gate through which to enter this tidy yard. Look at me preen as I step out my door and survey my fine work.

Does this neat patch of land send me closer to heaven?

Lord, you are sunshine and grace, shining down upon me even on this cold morning. Your warm love forgives me this self-satisfaction in my labor.

I am humbled, Lord, at how you love me even now, with my ordinary shortcomings on display.

Let me forgive the fellows I may meet their ordinariness.

(Letter #2,506)

The end of this day is certain, as is the end of all my days. The sun will set; I will retire. Only once will I fail to rise the next morning.

Today, dawn. The meadow is fresh with untrod dew. What path shall I make? The same as yesterday? A new, untried direction?

Tomorrow I shall begin again and it will be today. Then let today’s path be worthy of this day, for it is all there is. All depends on my next step.

Take my foot in your gentle hand, Lord, place it softly on new grass, pointing at grace.

Order my steps, my life, my day.

(Letter #2,505)