Millions Of Hells Of Sinners

Take Christ In With You Under Your Yoke, And Let Patience Have Her Perfect Work.

Let Us Be Faithful And Care For Our Own Part, Which Is To Do And Suffer For Him, And Lay Christ's Part On Himself, And Leave It There; Duties Are Ours, Events Are The Lord's.

Faint Not; The Miles To Heaven Are But Few And Short.

After Every Storm, There Comes Clear Open Skies.

Ye Have Lost A Child--nay, She Is Not Lost To You, Who Is Found To Christ; She Is Not Sent Away, But Only Sent Before; Like Unto A Star, Which Going Out Of Our Sight, Doth Not Die And Vanish, But Shineth In Another Hemisphere.