The Christian Is Not Always Praying; But

In The Spangled Sky, The Rainbow, The Woodland Hung With Diamonds, The Sward Sown With Pearly Dew, The Rosy Dawn, The Golden Clouds Of Even, The Purple Mountains, The Hoary Rock, The Blue Boundless Main, Nature's Simplest Flower, Or Some Fair Form Of Laughing Child Or Lovely Maiden, We Cannot See The Beautiful Without Admiring It.

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.

The Mental Powers Acquire Their Full Robustness When The Cheek Loses Its Ruddy Hue, And The Limbs Their Elastic Step; And Pale Thought Sits On Manly Brows, And The Watchman, As He Walks His Rounds, Sees The Student's Lamp Burning Far Into The Silent Night.

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.

You Are So To Put Forth The Power That God Has Given You; You Are So To Give, And Sacrifice To Give, As To Earn The Eulogium Pronounced On The Woman, "she Hath Done What She Could." Do It Now. It Is Not A Safe Thing To Leave A Generous Feeling To The Cooling Influences Of A Cold World. If You Intend To Do A Mean Thing, Wait Till Tomorrow; If You Are To Do A Noble Thing, Do It Now,--now!