I Assure You By The Lord, Your

The Secret Formula Of The Saints: When I Am In The Cellar Of Affliction, I Look For The Lord's Choicest Wines.

Grace Grows Best In Winter.

I Desire Now To Make No More Pleas With Christ; Verily, He Hath Not Put Me To A Loss By What I Suffer; He Oweth Me Nothing; For In My Bonds, How Sweet And Comfortable Have The Thoughts Of Him Been To Me, Wherein I Find A Sufficient Recompense Of Reward!.

I Live No More, But Christ Liveth In Me!

Let Us Be Faithful And Care For Our Own Part, Which Is To Do And Suffer For Him, And Lay Christ's Part On Himself, And Leave It There; Duties Are Ours, Events Are The Lord's.