Praise is the beauty of a Christian. What wings are to a bird, what fruit is to the tree, what the rose is to the thorn, that is praise to a child of God.

Nothing teaches us about the preciousness of the Creator as much as when we learn the emptiness of everything else.

I do not know when I am more perfectly happy than when I am weeping for sin at the foot of the cross.

The wicked man, when he dies, is driven to his grave, but the Christian comes to his grave.

Where the plow does not go and the seed is not sown, the weeds are sure to multiply.

Do not go on His errands till first you have sat at His feet.

He is ready to cleanse you, It is sin, after all, that lies at the door and blocks you way to the Savior.