The soul-stirring image of death is no bugbear to the sage, and is looked on without despair by the pious. It teaches the former to live, and it strengthens the hopes of the latter in salvation in the midst of distress. Death is new life to both.
Nothing is more damaging to the truth than an old error.
As man is, so is his God. And thus is God oft strangely odd.
Whatever is the object of a saint's hope is the subject of his prayer.
I bid the chords sweet music make, And all must follow in my wake.
It is working within limits that the craftsman reveals himself.