Prayer Flies Where The Eagle Never Flew.

The Finest Flowers Of Genius Have Grown In An Atmosphere Where Those Of Nature Are Prone To Droop, And Difficult To Bring To Maturity.

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.

As In Nature, As In The Arts, So In Grace; It Is Rough Treatment That Gives Souls As Well As Stones Their Lustre; The More The Diamond Is Cut The Brighter It Sparkles; And In What Seems Hard Dealing, Their God Has No End In View But To Perfect His People's Graces. Our Father, And And Kindest Of Fathers, He Afflicts Not Willingly; He Sends Tribulations, But Hear St Paul Tell Their Purpose, - "tribulation Worketh Patience, And Patience Experience, And Experience Hope."

The Work That Is Done In Love Loses Half Its Tedium And Difficulty.

Perhaps God Does With His Heavenly Garden As We Do With Our Own. He May Chiefly Stock It From Nurseries, And Select For Transplanting What Is Yet In Its Young And Tender Age--flowers Before They Have Bloomed And Trees Ere They Begin To Bear.