"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,- Now tell me the reason I pray."

Love is indestructible, Its holy flame forever burneth; From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.

Affliction is not sent in vain, young man, from that good God, who chastens whom he loves.

The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.

The pulpit is a clergyman's parade; the parish is his field of active service.

There is no security in a good disposition if the support of good principles--that is to say, of religion, of Christian faith--be wanting. It may be soured by misfortune, it may be corrupted by wealth, it may be blighted by neediness, it may lose all its original brightness, if destitute of that support.

Take away love, and not physical nature only, but the heart of the moral world, would be palsied.