I live no more, but Christ liveth in me!

The secret formula of the saints: When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines.

Every day we may see some new thing in Christ. His love hath neither brim nor bottom.

Jesus Christ came into my prison cell last night, and every stone flashed like a ruby.

The great Master Gardener, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, in a wonderful providence, with his own hand, planted me here, where by his grace, in this part of his vineyard, I grow; and here I will abide till the great Master of the vineyard think fit to transplant me.

After winter comes the summer. After night comes the dawn. And after every storm, there comes clear, open skies.

Grace will ever speak for itself and be fruitful in well-doing; the sanctified, cross is a fruitful tree.