For Love Is Of God. He Is

What We Count The Ills Of Life Are Often Blessings In Disguise, Resulting In Good To Us In The End. Though For The Present Not Joyous But Grievous, Yet, If Received In A Right Spirit, They Work Out Fruits Of Righteousness For Us At Last.

Here Is Bread, Which Strengthens Man's Heart, And Therefore Is Called The Staff Of Life.

Man Takes A Great Deal Of Pains To Heap Up Riches, And They Are But Like Heaps Of Manure In The Furrows Of The Field, Good For Nothing Unless They Be Spread.

Hard Words Indeed Break No Bones, But Many A Heart Has Been Broken By Them.

Why Wilt Thou Be So Sottish, Such An Enemy To Thyself, As To Prefer Puddle-water, And That Poisoned Too And Stolen, Before Pure Living Waters Out Of Thy Own Well?