Sunday, August 13, 2006

A Precise God...

"God's best servants are distinguished by their cleaving closely to His Word. Among them was John Rogers of Dedham in Essex in the early part of the seventeenth century.

He was at first so addicted to vice that, when he was sent to study at Cambridge, he sold his books and spent the money. Notwithstanding his base ingratitude, his kinsman procured him a fresh stock of books and sent him again to Cambridge. Still continuing a profligate, he repeated the same evil behaviour.

The same kind benefactor furnished him with books for a third time and, the grace of God this time changing his heart, he became an ornament to his college and eminent for true godliness of life.

In time he became famous as a preacher of the gospel, and was even called 'the Enoch of his day.' A bishop said of him that England hardly ever brought forth a man who walked more closely with God.

He was remarkable for gravity and seriousness in company. On one occassion a gentleman of rank said to him, 'Mr Rogers, I like you and your company well enough, but you are too precise.' 'Oh, sir,' replied John Rogers, 'I serve a precise God!' "

John Rogers - bio

A Puritan prayer:


Lord Jesus, I sin.

Grant that I may never cease grieving because of it, never be content with myself, never think I can reach a point of perfection.

Kill my envy, command my tongue, trample down self. Give me grace to be holy, kind, gentle, pure, peaceable, to live for Thee and not for self, to copy Thy words, acts, spirit, to be transformed into Thy likeness, to be consecrated wholly to Thee, to live entirely to Thy glory.

Deliver me from attachment to things unclean, from wrong associations, from the predominance of evil passions, from the sugar of sin as well as its gap; that with self-loathing, deep contrition, earnest heart searching I may come to Thee, cast myself on Thee, trust in Thee, cry to Thee, be delivered by Thee.

O God, the Eternal All, help me to know that all things are shadows, but Thou art substance, all things are quicksands, but Thou art mountain, all things are shifting, but Thou art anchor, all things are ignorance, but Thou art wisdom.

If my life is to be a crucible amid burning heat, so be it, but do Thou sit at the furnace mouth to watch the ore that nothing be lost.

If I sin wilfully, grievously, tormentedly, in grace take away my mourning and give me music; remove my sackcloth and clothe me with beauty; still my sighs and fill my mouth with song, then give me summer weather as a Christian.

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