If Our Love Were But More Simple,

Nobody Is Kind To Only One Person At Once, But To Many Persons In One.

Poor Human Nature Cannot Do Everything; And Kindness Is Too Often Left Uncultivated, Because Men Do Not Sufficiently Understand Its Value. Men May Be Charitable, Yet Not Kind; Merciful, Yet Not Kind; Self-denying, Yet Not Kind. If They Would Add A Little Common Kindness To Their Uncommon Graces, They Would Convert Ten Where They Now Only Abate The Prejudice Of One.

He (god) Never Comes To Those Who Do Not Wait.

For Right Is Right, Since God Is God And Right The Day Must Win. To Doubt Would Be Disloyalty, To Falter Would Be Sin.

Now This Spirit Is Admirably Mortified By The Exercise Of Patience. It Involves Also A Continual Practice Of The Presence Of God; For We May Be Come Upon At Any Moment For An Almost Heroic Display Of Good Temper. It Is A Short Road To Unselfishness; For Nothing Is Left To Self. All That Seems To Belong Most Intimately To Self, To Be Self's Private Property, Such As Time, Home, And Rest, Are Invaded By These Continual Trials Of Patience.