There was no other place that she would rather be than right here in my arms, and in the comfort of my love. She says with a passionate quiet zeal, that I awaken a fire in her soul that she cannot contain. All the time it is uncontrollable, she wants more. I asked her if this was not lust, and in a flurry of love she declined, and maintained that it was too pure to be lust but it is sweet love. My beloved also mentioned that at my appearance, something in her always comes alive. My love, if you have these passions for me then how much greater do you have them for Jesus? Her eyes fell with embarrassment, and in all my masculine tenderness, I stroke her hair, staring lusciously into her dovely eyes, that her love for Christ must exceed mine, or else I have failed in my ministry towards her.