Grace grows best in winter.
O, what I owe to the file, the hammer, and the furnace of the Lord Jesus! I know that he is no idle husbandman - he purposes a crop.
Heaven is a house full of miracles; yea, of spectacles and images of free grace.
Make not Christ a liar in distrusting His promise.
There is no sweeter fellowship with Christ than to bring our wounds and our sores to him.
Why should I tremble at the plough of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? I know He is no idle husbandman, He purposeth a crop.