Prayer Flies Where The Eagle Never Flew.

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.

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.

The Bible, Which Ranges Over A Period Of Four Thousand Years, Records But One Instance Of A Death-bed Conversion (the Thief On The Cross) - One That None May Despair, And But One That None May Presume.

Prayer Flies Where The Eagle Never Flew.

Sin! Sin! Thou Art A Hateful And Horrible Thing, That Abominable Thing Which God Hates. And What Wonder? Thou Hast Insulted His Holy Majesty; Thou Hast Bereaved Him Of Beloved Children; Thou Hast Crucified The Son Of His Infinite Love; Thou Hast Vexed His Gracious Spirit; Thou Hast Defied His Power; Thou Hast Despised His Grace; And In The Body And Blood Of Jesus, As If That Were A Common Thing, Thou Hast Trodden Under Foot His Matchless Mercy. Surely, Brethren, The Wonder Of Wonders Is, That Sin Is Not That Abominable Thing Which We Also Hate.