Millions of hells of sinners cannot come near to exhaust infinite grace.

Faint not; the miles to heaven are but few and short.

I wonder many times that ever a child of God should have a sad heart, considering what their Lord is preparing for them.

My dear friend, venture to take the wind on your face for Christ.

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.

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.

If Christ Jesus be the periode, the end and the lodging-home at the end of your journey, there is no fear ye go to a friend . . . ye may look death in the face with joy.