Faith's speculations to the worst and hardest, in point of resolution, are sweet.

Since He looked upon me my heart is not my own. He hath runaway to heaven with it.

We are as near to heaven as we are far from self, and far from the love of a sinful world.

You will not be carried to Heaven lying at ease upon a feather bed.

My dear brother, let God make of you what He will, He will end all with consolation, and shall make glory out of your suffering.

My faith has no bed to sleep upon but omnipotence.

I see Christ's love is so kingly, that it will not abide a marrow it must have a throne all alone in the soul.