O What A Thing Is

There Is Only One Word Of Tenderness We Could Say, Which We Have Not Said Oftentimes Before ; And There Is No Consolation In It. The Happy Never Say, And Never Hear Said, Farewell.

Everything That Looks To The Future Elevates Human Nature; For Never Is Life So Low Or So Little As When Occupied With The Present.

Great Men Too Often Have Greater Faults Than Little Men Can Find Room For.

Piety--warm, Soft, And Passive As The Ether Round The Throne Of Grace--is Made Callous And Inactive By Kneeling Too Much.

We Fancy That Our Afflictions Are Sent Us Directly From Above; Sometimes We Think It In Piety And Contrition, But Oftener In Moroseness And Discontent.