Let your children be as so many flowers, borrowed from God. If the flowers die or wither, thank God for a summer loan of them.

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

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.

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

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.

It is the Lord's kindness that he will take the scum off us in the fire. Who know how needful winnowing is to us and what dross we have before we enter the kingdom of God? So narrow is the entry to heaven that our knots, lumps of pride, self-love, idol-love, and world-love must be hammered off us, that we may stoop low and creep through into that narrow entry.

Build your nest in no tree here...for the Lord of the forest has condemned the whole woods to be demolished.