Books are but dead bodies to you, and a library nothing but a catacomb!

Division has done more to hide Christ from the view of men than all the infidelity that has ever been spoken.

Never was there a more injurous mistake than to say it was thebusiness only of the clergy to care for souls.

But there are not a few who would be indignant at having their belief in God questioned, who yet seem greatly to fear imagining Him better than He is.

The perfection of His relation to us swallows up all our imperfections, all our defeats, all our evils; for our childhood is born of His fatherhood. That man is perfect in faith who can come to God in the utter dearth of his feelings and his desires, without a glow or an aspiration, with the weight of low thoughts, failures, neglects, and wandering forgetfulness, and say to Him, “Thou art my refuge, because Thou art my home”.

Come, then, affliction, if my Father wills, and be my frowning friend. A friend that frowns is better than a smiling enemy.

The time for speaking seldom arrives, the time for being never departs.