“Sleep is sweet to the labouring man.”

Pray often, for prayer is a shield to the soul, a sacrifice to God, and a scourge for Satan.

He that is down needs fear no fall. He that is low, no pride; He that is humble, ever shall have God to be his Guide.

Prayer is an ordinance of God, that must continue with a soul so long as it is on this side glory.

Riches and power, what is there more in the world? For money answereth all things-that is, all but soul concerns. It can neither be a price for souls while here, nor can that, with all the forces of strength, recover one out of hell fire.

I have often thought that the best Christians are found in the worst of times.

And, indeed, this is one of the greatest mysteries in the world; namely, that a righteousness that resides in heaven should justify me, a sinner on earth!

Prayer will make a man cease from sin, or sin will entice a man to cease from prayer.

The best prayers have often more groans than words.

Humility is the light of the understanding.

Our sins, when laid upon Christ, were yet personally ours, not his; so his righteousness, when put upon us, is yet personally his, not ours.

To seek yourself in this world is to be lost; and to be humble is to be exalted.

I seek a place that can never be destroyed, one that is pure, and that fadeth not away, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be given, at the time appointed, to them that seek it with all their heart. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

It is said that in some countries trees will grow, but will bear no fruit because there is no winter there.

It is the opener of the heart of God, and a means by which the soul, though empty, is filled.

Old truths are always new to us, if they come with the smell of heaven upon them.

He that lives in sin and looks for happiness hereafter is likehimthat soweth cockleand thinkstofill hisbarnwith wheat or barley.

And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, She needs not June for beauty’s heightening.

There is one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

The sweetest joys of life grow in the very jaws of its perils.

Profit is sweet, even if it comes from deception.

O tender yearning, sweet hoping! The golden time of first love! The eye sees the open heaven, The heart is intoxicated with bliss; O that the beautiful time of young love Could remain green forever.

It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends.

Day’s lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.