By Ruth Bell Graham   •   June 6, 2007

when all your soul
a tiptoe stands
in wistful eagerness
to talk with God;
put out your hands,
God bends to hear;
it would be sin
to not draw near.

when gray inertia
creeps through your soul,
as through a man
who fights the cold,
then growing languid
and slumbering
knows not
it is death.

when swamped
with sin and shame
and nowhere else
to pin the blame
but your own will
and waywardness;
God knows you,
loves you nonetheless,

So … pray.

View the Ruth Bell Graham memorial Web site

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