The Bloom Fell Off My Branches And

I Hang By A Thread, But It Is (if I May So Speak) Of Christ's Spinning

Faint Not; The Miles To Heaven Are But Few And Short.

After Every Storm, There Comes Clear Open Skies.

Set Not Your Heart Upon The World, Since God Hath Not Made It Your Portion.

I Wonder Many Times That Ever A Child Of God Should Have A Sad Heart, Considering What Their Lord Is Preparing For Them.