Let Every Man Come To God In

All Work And No Plagiarism Makes For Dull Sermons!

A Babe Is A Mother's Anchor.

A Man Ought To Carry Himself In The World As An Orange Tree Would If It Could Walk Up And Down In The Garden, Swinging Perfume From Every Little Censer It Holds Up In The Air.

People May Excite In Themselves A Glow Of Compassion, Not By Toasting Their Feet At The Fire, And Saying: "lord, Teach Me Compassion," But By Going And Seeking An Object That Requires Compassion.

The Mere Wit Is Only A Human Bauble. He Is To Life What Bells Are To Horses-not Expected To Draw The Load, But Only To Jingle While The Horses Draw.