A Man's True Estate Of Power And

Our Yearnings Are Homesicknesses For Heaven; Our Sighings Are For God, Just As Children That Cry Themselves Asleep Away From Home, And Sob In Their Slumber, Know Not That They Sob For Their Parents. The Soul's Inarticulate Moanings Are The Affections Yearning For The Infinite, And Having No One To Tell Them What It Is That Ails Them.

Coming To The Bible Through Commentaries Is Much Like Looking At A Landscape Through Garret Windows, Over Which Generations Of Unmolested Spiders Have Spun Their Webs.

Affliction Comes To The Believer Not To Make Him Sad, But Sober; Not To Make Him Sorry, But Wise. Even As The Plow Enriches The Field So That The Seed Is Multiplied A Thousandfold, So Affliction Should Magnify Our Joy And Increase Our Spiritual Harvest.

A Lie Is A Very Short Wick In A Very Small Lamp. The Oil Of Reputation Is Very Soon Sucked Up And Gone. And Just As Soon As A Man Is Known To Lie, He Is Like A Two-foot Pump In A Hundred-foot Well. He Cannot Touch Bottom At All.

We Never Know The Love Of The Parent For The Child Till We Become Parents.