Do It Now. It Is Not Safe

The Christian Is Not Always Praying; But Within His Bosom Is A Heaven-kindled Love--fires Of Desire, Fervent Longings--which Make Him Always Ready To Pray, And Often Engage Him In Prayer.

Perhaps God Does With His Heavenly Garden As We Do With Our Own. He May Chiefly Stock It From Nurseries, And Select For Transplanting What Is Yet In Its Young And Tender Age--flowers Before They Have Bloomed And Trees Ere They Begin To Bear.

As In Nature, As In Art, So In Grace; It Is Rough Treatment That Gives Souls, As Well As Stones, Their Luster.

Every Object In Nature Is Impressed With God's Footsteps, And Every Day Repeats The Wonders Of Creation. There Is Not An Object, Be It Pebble Or Pearl, Weed Or Rose, The Flower-spangled Sward Beneath, Or The Star-spangled Sky Above, Not A Worm Or An Angel, A Drop Of Water Or A Boundless Ocean, In Which Intelligence May Not Discern, And Piety Adore, The Providence Of Him Who Took Our Nature That He Might Save Our Souls.

The Mental Powers Acquire Their Full Robustness When The Cheek Loses Its Ruddy Hue, And The Limbs Their Elastic Step; And Pale Thought Sits On Manly Brows, And The Watchman, As He Walks His Rounds, Sees The Student's Lamp Burning Far Into The Silent Night.