The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.
Personal prayer, it seems to me, is one of the simplest necessities of life, as basic to the individual as sunshine, food and water-and at times, of course, more so. By prayer I mean an effort to get in touch with the Infinite. We know that our prayers are imperfect. Of course they are. We are imperfect human beings. A thousand experiences have convinced me beyond room of doubt that prayer multiplies the strength of the individual and brings within the scope of his capabilities almost any conceivable objective.
My constant prayer, these days, as I start my backswing is, 'Oh, please let me swing slowly.' The trouble is that sometimes I wonder whether I swing at all; whether I am not strictly a chopper.
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