He That Lives In Sin And Looks

Here Is The Life Of Prayer, When In Or With The Spirit, A Man Being Made Sensible Of Sin, And How To Come To The Lord For Mercy; He Comes, I Say, In The Strength Of The Spirit, And Crieth Father. That One Word Spoken In Faith Is Better Than A Thousand Prayers, As Men Call Them, Written And Read, In A Formal, Cold, Lukewarm Way.

Care, Mad To See A Man Sae Happy, E'en Drouned Himsel Amang The Nappy.

As I Walked Through The Wilderness Of This World, I Lighted On A Certain Place, Where Was A Den; And I Laid Me Down In That Place To Sleep: And As I Slept I Dreamed A Dream. I Dreamed, And Behold I Saw A Man Clothed With Rags, Standing In A Certain Place, With His Face From His Own House, A Book In His Hand, And A Great Burden Upon His Back. I Looked, And Saw Him Open The Book, And Read Therein; And As He Read, He Wept And Trembled: And Not Being Able Longer To Contain, He Brake Out With A Lamentable Cry; Saying, 'what Shall I Do?'

The Best Prayers Have Often More Groans Than Words.

Their Bodies Will Be Raised From The Dead As Vessels For The Soul-vessels Of Wrath. The Soul Will Breathe Hell-fire, And Smoke And Coal Will Seem To Hang Upon Its Burning Lips, Yea The Face, Eyes, And Ears Will Seem To Be Chimneys And Vents For The Flame, And The Smoke Of The Burning , Which God, By His Breath, Hath Kindled Therein, And Upon, Them, Which Will Be Held One In Another, To The Great Torment And Distress Of Each Other.