If we with earnest effort could succeed To make our life one long, connected prayer, As lives of some, perhaps, have been and are; If, never leaving Thee, we have no need Our wandering spirits back again to lead Into Thy presence, but continued there Like angels standing on the highest stair Of the Sapphire Throne: this were to pray indeed!

Grammar is the logic of speech, even as logic is the grammar of reason.

The love of our own language, what is it, in fact, but the love of our country expressing itself in one particular direction?

Language is the amber in which a thousand precious and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved.

We kneel, how weak; we rise, how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others — that we are not always strong, That we are ever overborne with care, That we should ever weak or heartless be, Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, And joy and strength and courage are with Thee?

Language is the close-fitting dress of thought.

Best friends might loathe us, if what things perverse we know of our own selves they also knew.