There Is Perfect Love In Heaven!

Preserve Me From Such Cordiality! It Is Like Handling Briar-roses And May-blossoms - Bright Enough To The Eye, And Outwardly Soft To The Touch, But You Know There Are Thorns Beneath, And Every Now And Then You Feel Them Too; And Perhaps Resent The Injury By Crushing Them In Till You Have Destroyed Their Power, Though Somewhat To The Detriment Of Your Own Fingers.

All Our Talents Increase In The Using, And Every Faculty, Both Good And Bad, Strengthens By Exercise.

To Regret The Exchange Of Earthly Pleasures For The Joys Of Heaven, Is As If The Grovelling Caterpillar Should Lament That It Must One Day Quit The Nibbled Leaf To Soar Aloft And Flutter Through The Air, Roving At Will From Flower To Flower, Sipping Sweet Honey From Their Cups, Or Basking In Their Sunny Petals.

Keep Guard Over Your Eyes And Ears As The Inlets Of Your Heart, And Over Your Lips As The Outlets, Lest They Betray You In A Moment Of Unwariness.

Because The Road Is Rough And Long, Should We Despise The Skylark's Song?