The Devil Is But A Whetstone To

Grace Grows Best In Winter.

See That You Buy The Field Where The Pearl Is; Sell All, And Make A Purchase Of Salvation. Think It Not Easy: For It Is A Steep Ascent To Eternal Glory: Many Are Lying Dead By The Way, Slain With Security.

When The Race Is Ended, And The Play Is Either Won Or Lost, And Ye Are In The Utmost Circle And Border Of Time, And Shall Put Your Foot Within The March Of Eternity, All The Good Things Of Your Short Nightdream Shall Seem To You Like Ashes Of A Blaze Of Thorns Or Straw.

Take Christ In With You Under Your Yoke, And Let Patience Have Her Perfect Work.

I Seldom Made An Errand To God For Another But I Got Something For Myself.