Some of God's noblest sons, I think, will be selected from those that know how to take wealth, with all its temptations, and maintain godliness therewith. It is hard to be a saint standing in a golden niche.

It is defeat that turns bone to flint, gristle to muscle, and makes men invincible.

Expedients are for an hour, but principles are for the ages. Just because the rains descend and winds blow, we cannot afford to build on shifting sands.

We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.

The Church is not a gallery for the exhibition of eminent Christians, but a school for the education of imperfect ones.

So we fall asleep in Jesus. We have played long enough at the games of life, and at last we feel the approach of death. We are tired out, and we lay our heads back on the bosom of Christ, and quietly fall asleep.