Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer; Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
I need an army. I need people out there who are either preaching with me to different audiences that I can't get to or who are implementing the work and helping people actually learn their why or practice their why or implement their why because I don't do that.