It Is One Of The

There Can Be No Barrenness In Full Summer. The Very Sand Will Yield Something. Rocks Will Have Mosses, And Every Rift Will Have Its Wind-flower, And Every Crevice A Leaf; While From The Fertile Soil Will Be Reared A Gorgeous Troop Of Growths, That Will Carry Their Life In Ten Thousand Forms, But All With Praise To God. And So It Is When The Soul Knows Its Summer. Love Redeems Its Weakness, Clothes Its Barrenness, Enriches Its Poverty, And Makes Its Very Desert To Bud And Blossom As The Rose.

Now, Men Think, With Regard To Their Conduct, That, If They Were To Lift Themselves Up Gigantically And Commit Some Crashing Sin, They Should Never Be Able To Hold Up Their Heads; But They Will Harbor In Their Souls Little Sins, Which Are Piercing And Eating Them Away To Inevitable Ruin.

Weak Minds May Be Injured By Novel-reading; But Sensible People Find Both Amusement And Instruction Therein.

Give Us That Calm Certainty Of Truth, That Nearness To Thee, That Conviction Of The Reality Of The Life To Come, Which We Shall Need To Bear Us Through The Troubles Of This.

Grim Care, Moroseness, Anxiety-all This Rust Of Life Ought To Be Scoured Off By The Oil Of Mirth. Mirth Is God's Medicine.