Not in achievement, but in endurance, of the human soul, does it show its divine grandeur and its alliance with the infinite.

Not in achievement, but in endurance, of the human soul, does it show its divine grandeur and its alliance with the infinite.

Some people habitually wear sadness, like a garment, and think it a becoming grace. God loves a cheerful worshipper.

Even yet Christ Jesus has to lie out in waste places very often, because there is no room for him in the inn--no room for him in our hearts, because of our worldliness. There is no room for him even in our politics and religion. There is no room in the inn, and we put him in the manger, and he lies outside our faith, coldly and dimly conceived by us.

We have not the innocence of Eden; but by God's help and Christ's example we may have the victory of Gethsemane.

In the isolation of his clear, cold intellect, the sceptic abides in a glacial and spectral universe. No glow from the affections lights up the frost and shadow of the grave. He feels no prophecy in the thrill of the human heart-in the incompleteness of nature. He believes merely in things tangible, and sees only in the daytime. He will not confess the authenticity of that paler light of faith which was meant to shine when the sunshine of reason falls short, and the firmament of mystery is over our heads.

Break up the institution of the family, deny the inviolability of its relations, and in a little while there would not be any humanity.