He That Lives In Sin And Looks

I Saw A Man Clothed With Rags . . . A Book In His Hand, And A Great Burden Upon His Back.

God, As I May Say, Is Forced To Break Men's Hearts, Before He Can Make Them Willing To Cry To Him, Or Be Willing That He Should Have Any Concerns With Them; The Rest Shut Their Eyes, Stop Their Ears, Withdraw Their Hearts, Or Say Unto God, Be Gone.

The Same Yesterday, Today, And Forever.

Faith Receiveth The Promise, Embraceth It, And Comforteth The Soul Unspeakably With It. Faith Is So Great An Artist In Arguing And Reasoning With The Soul, That It Will Bring Over The Hardest Heart That It Hath To Deal With. It Will Bring To My Remembrance At Once, Both My Vileness Against God, And His Goodness Towards Me; It Will Show Me, That Though I Deserve Not To Breathe In The Air, Yet That God Will Have Me An Heir Of Glory.

Conversion Is Not The Smooth, Easy-going Process Some Men Seem To Think... It Is Wounding Work, This Breaking Of The Hearts, But Without Wounding There Is No Saving... Where There Is Grafting There Will Always Be A Cutting, The Graft Must Be Let In With A Wound; To Stick It Onto The Outside Or To Tie It On With A String Would Be Of No Use. Heart Must Be Set To Heart And Back To Back Or There Will Be No Sap From Root To Branch. And This, I Say, Must Be Done By A Wound, By A Cut.