“Hold everything earthly with a loose hand, but grasp eternal things with a death-like grip”

We are too prone to engrave our trials in marble and write our blessings in sand.

A man says to me, ‘Can you explain the seven trumpets of the Revelation?’ No, but I can blow one in your ear, and warn you to escape from the wrath to come.

In prosperity God is heard, and that is a blessing; but in adversity God is seen, and that is a greater blessing.

If any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him, for you are worse than he thinks you to be.

We cannot always trace God’s hand but we can always trust God’s heart.

I have a great need for Christ: I have a great Christ for my need.

Faith goes up the stairs that love has built and looks out the windows which hope has opened.

By perseverance the snail reached the ark.

We are in a wrong state of mind if we are not in a thankful state of mind.

A person who is really saved by Grace does not need to be told that he is under solemn obligations to serve Christ. The new life within him tells him that. Instead of regarding it as a burden, he gladly surrenders himself, body, soul, and spirit, to the Lord.

Anything is a blessing which makes us pray.

I do believe we slander Christ when we think we are to draw the people by something else but the preaching of Christ crucified.

Christians are not so much in danger when they are persecuted as when they are admired.

Patience! patience! You are always in a hurry, but God is not.

When you go through a trial, the sovereignty of God is the pillow upon which you lay your head.

Wisdom is the right use of knowledge. To know is not to be wise. Many men know a great deal, and are all the greater fools for it. There is no fool so great a fool as a knowing fool. But to know how to use knowledge is to have wisdom.

Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.

Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

We are all of us resigned to death: it’s life we aren’t resigned to.

The world, somebody wrote, is the place we prove real by dying in it.

Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

If there is no love more in yonder heart, it is but a corpse unburied.