Every Christian then, must be a soldier, and take his share in the battles of the cross. We must not look upon our life as being a pleasure-journey through a friendly land, bat as a march, a march through the very midst of foes who will dispute every foot of our way.

We, who are God’s witnesses must stand in its very midst, to pour the streams of living water upon the burning fuel, and if not able to quench it, at least we must strive to prevent its spread.

I believe there have been more princes and kings, mayors and aldermen, and great merchants sitting at this table, than at any other. It is called the table of worldliness.

That is the first cup the devil gives; and the good wine makes you swell with self-important dignity, as its fumes enter your heart and puff it up with an accursed pride.

It is the wine-cup of pleasure.” This is the first cup at the banqueting-house of Satan.

HALF-A-DOZEN words from a tender mother to a boy who is just leaving home for an apprenticeship, may drop like gentle dew from heaven upon him. A few sentences from a kind and prudent father given to the daughter, still unconverted, as she enters upon her married life, and to her husband, kindly and affectionately put, may make that household for ever a house of God. A kind word dropped by a brother to a sister, a little letter written from a sister to her brother, though it

Pride is a groundless thing. It standeth on the sands; or worse than that, it puts its foot on the billows which yield beneath its tread; or, worse still, it stands on bubbles, which soon must burst beneath its feet.

Some men seem to be born with two characters.

Sleep is the gift of God; and not a man would close his eyes, did not God put his fingers on his eyelids—did not the Almighty send a soft and balmy influence over his frame which lulled his thoughts into quiescence, making him enter into that blissful state of rest which we call sleep.

And as ev’ry drop of Garda’s lake Is tinged with the sapphire’s blue; So all the powers of my mind partake Of joy at the thought of you.

Oh think not so of the Good Shepherd! He is already gazing on your bleeding wounds, and preparing to bind them up...

Thou simple bird, what makes thou here to play?