It is because we underrate thought, because we do not see what a great element it is in religious life, that there is so little of practical and consistent religion among us.

It is those who make the least display of their sorrow who mourn the deepest.

There is a sweet anguish springing up in our bosoms when a child's face brightens under the shadow of the waiting angel. There is an autumnal fitness when age gives up the ghost; and when the saint dies there is a tearful victory.

A patient, humble temper gathers blessings that are marred by the peevish and overlooked by the aspiring.

The city an epitome of the social world. All the belts of civilization intersect along its avenues. It contains the products of every moral zone. It is cosmopolitan, not only in a national, but a spiritual sense.

All natural results are spontaneous. The diamond sparkles without effort, and the flowers open impulsively beneath the summer rain. And true religion is a spontaneous thing,--as natural as it is to weep, to love, or to rejoice.

Morality is but the vestibule of religion.