The Stars Are Threshed, And The Souls

The Stars Are Threshed, And The Souls Are Threshed From Their Husks.

O Thou Who Passest Through Our Valleys In Thy Strength, Curb Thy Fierce Steeds, Allay The Heat That Flames From Their Large Nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft Pitchest Here Thy Golden Tent, And Oft Beneath Our Oaks Hast Slept, While We Beheld With Joy Thy Ruddy Limbs And Flourishing Hair.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity

Let Every Christian, As Much As In Him Lies, Engage Himself Openly And Publicly, Before All The World, In Some Mental Pursuit For The Building Up Of Jerusalem.

To Be An Error And To Be Cast Out Is A Part Of God's Design.