The Hope Of Immortality Makes Heroes Of

Lord, What Wilt Thou Have Me To Do?

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.

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.

Time That Weakens All Things Else Has But Strengthened The Impregnable Position Of The Believer's Faith And Hope And Confidence. And As, Year By Year, The Tree Adds Another Ring To Its Circumference, Every Age Has Added The Testimony Of Its Events To This Great Truth. "the Grass Withereth, And The Flower Fadeth, But The Word Of The Lord Shall Endure Forever.

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.