Intend To Live In Continual Mortification, And

Resolved, To Confess Frankly To Myself All That Which I Find In Myself, Either Infirmity Or Sin; And, If It Be What Concerns Religion, Also To Confess The Whole Case To God, And Implore Needed Help.

We Are Dependent On God's Power Through Every Step Of Our Redemption.

Surely There Is Something In The Unruffled Calm Of Nature That Overawes Our Little Anxieties And Doubts; The Sight Of The Deep-blue Sky And The Clustering Stars Above Seems To Impart A Quiet To The Mind.

The Bow Of God's Wrath Is Bent, And His Arrows Made Ready Upon The String. Justice Points The Arrow At Your Heart And Strings The Bow. It Is Nothing But The Mere Pleasure Of God (and That Of An Angry God Without Any Promise Or Obligation At All) That Keeps The Arrow One Moment From Being Made Drunk With Your Blood.

There Are Two Sorts Of Hypocrites: Ones That Are Deceived With Their Outward Morality And External Religion; And The Others Are Those That Are Deceived With False Discoveries And Elevation; Which Often Cry Down Works, And Men's Own Righteousness, And Tlak Much Of Free Grace, But At The Same Time Make A Righteousness Of Their Discoveries And Of Their Humiliation, And Exalt Themselves To Heaven With Them.