Truth Is Poetry; It Is

No One Can Truly See Christ, And Drink In The Influence Of His Character, And Not Be A Christian At Heart.

A Life Of Mere Pleasure! A Little While, In The Spring-time Of The Senses, In The Sunshine Of Prosperity, In The Jubilee Of Health, It May Seem Well Enough. But How Insufficient, How Mean, How Terrible When Age Comes, And Sorrow, And Death! A Life Of Pleasure! What Does It Look Like When These Great Changes Beat Against It--when The Realities Of Eternity Stream In? It Looks Like The Fragments Of A Feast, When The Sun Shines Upon The Withered Garlands, And The Tinsel, And The Overturned Tables, And The Dead Lees Of Wine.

The Deepest Life Of Nature Is Silent And Obscure; So Often The Elements That Move And Mould Society Are The Results Of The Sister's Counsel And The Mother's Prayer.

In The History Of Man It Has Been Very Generally The Case That When Evils Have Grown Insufferable They Have Touched The Point Of Cure.

Death Is A Great Revealer Of What Is In A Man, And In Its Solemn Shadow Appear The Naked Lineaments Of The Soul.