More Tears Are Shed In Playhouses Than

A Sunny Temper [an Attitude Of Gratitude For What Blessings And Mercies There Are] Gilds The Edges Of Life's Blackest Cloud.

The Cry Of Distress Lays Hold Of Our Lord's Omnipotence. It Is As Easy For God To Supply Thy Greatest As Thy Smallest Wants, Even As It Was Within His Power To Form A System Or An Atom, To Create A Blazing Sun As To Kindle The Fire-fly's Lamp.

It Is Not With A Rush And A Spring That We Are To Reach Christ's Character, And Attain To Perfect Saintship; But Step By Step, Foot By Foot, Hand Over Hand, We Are Slowly And Often Painfully To Mount The Ladder That Rests On Earth, And Rises To Heaven.

If You Find Yourself Loving Any Pleasure More Than Your Prayers, Any Book Better Than The Bible, Any House Better Than The House Of The Lord, Any Table Better Than The Lord's Table, Any Persons Better Than Christ, Or Any Indulgence Better Than The Hope Of Heaven – Be Alarmed.

Every Object In Nature Is Impressed With God's Footsteps, And Every Day Repeats The Wonders Of Creation. There Is Not An Object, Be It Pebble Or Pearl, Weed Or Rose, The Flower-spangled Sward Beneath, Or The Star-spangled Sky Above, Not A Worm Or An Angel, A Drop Of Water Or A Boundless Ocean, In Which Intelligence May Not Discern, And Piety Adore, The Providence Of Him Who Took Our Nature That He Might Save Our Souls.