All this time i had succeeded in convincing myself that the Lord should not want to rest His presence by a fire made of kindling. The fire of wood stubble and hay long put out, only ashes remain. Until the cold air February blows reminded me of His jealousy even for a heart such as mine. The ashes are not in vain, for the beauty He causes to rise from the sacrifice are of a fragrant offering unto Himself.
He offers me rubies and gems, the precious stones that will never burn dim.