The Babe At First Feeds

It Is A View Of God That Compensates Every Thing Else, And Enables The Soul To Rest In His Bosom. How, When The Child In The Night Screams With Terror, Hearing Sounds That It Knows Not Of, Is That Child Comforted And Put To Rest? Is It By A Philosophical Explanation That The Sounds Were Made By The Rats In The Partition? Is It By Imparting Entomological Knowledge? No; It Is By The Mother Taking The Child In Her Lap, And Singing Sweetly To It, And Rocking It. And The Child Thinks Nothing Of The Explanation, But Only Of The Mother.

I Have Great Hope Of A Wicked Man, Slender Hope Of A Mean One. A Wicked Man May Be Converted And Become A Prominent Saint. A Mean Man Ought To Be Converted Six Or Seven Times, One Right After The Other, To Give Him A Fair Start And Put Him On An Equality With A Bold, Wicked Man.

O Lord God, We Pray That We May Be Inspired To Nobleness Of Life In The Least Things. May We Dignify All Our Daily Life. May We Set Such A Sacredness Upon Every Part Of Our Life, That Nothing Shall Be Trivial, Nothing Unimportant, And Nothing Dull, In The Daily Round.

Some Men Think That The Globe Is A Sponge That God Puts Into Their Hands To Squeeze For Their Own Garden Or Flower-pot.

There Are Not Anywhere Else So Many Ways Of Trickery, So Many False Lights, So Many Veils, So Many Guises, So Many Illusive Deceits, As Are Practiced In Every Man's Conscience In Respect To His Motives, Thoughts, Feelings, Conduct, And Character.