All Service Is The Same With God.

To Me At Least Was Never Evening Yet, But Seemed Far Beautifuller Than Its Day.

Italy, My Italy! Queen Mary's Saying Serves For Me (when Fortune's Malice Lost Her Calais): "open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It 'italy.'"

For The Preacher's Merit Or Demerit, It Were To Be Wished That The Flaws Were Fewer In The Earthen Vessel, Holding Treasure, But The Main Thing Is, Does It Hold Good Measure Heaven Soon Sets Right All Other Matters!

The Past Is Gained, Secure, And On Record.

Truth Is Within Ourselves; It Takes No Rise From Outward Things, Whate'er You May Believe. There Is An Inmost Centre In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fulness; And Around, Wall Upon Wall, The Gross Flesh Hems It In, This Perfect, Clear Perception-which Is Truth. A Baffling And Perverting Carnal Mesh Binds It, And Makes All Error: And To Know Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Whence The Imprisoned Splendour May Escape, Than In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.