If We Are Intended For Great Ends,

Christ Is Already In That Place Of Peace, Which Is All In All. He Is On The Right Hand Of God. He Is Hidden In The Brightness Of The Radiance Which Issues From The Everlasting Throne. He Is In The Very Abyss Of Peace, Where There Is No Voice Of Tumult Or Distress, But A Deep Stillness--stillness, That Greatest And Most Awful Of All Goods Which We Can Fancy; That Most Perfect Of Joys, The Utter Profound, Ineffable Tranquillity Of The Divine Essence. He Has Entered Into His Rest. That Is Our Home; Here We Are On A Pilgrimage, And Christ Calls Us To His Many Mansions Which He Has Prepared.

There Are Wounds Of The Spirit Which Never Close And Are Intended In God's Mercy To Bring Us Nearer To Him, And To Prevent Us Leaving Him By Their Very Perpetuity. Such Wounds Then May Almost Be Taken As A Pledge, Or At Least As A Ground For A Humble Trust, That God Will Give Us The Great Gift Of Perseverance To The End. This Is How I Comfort Myself In My Own Great Bereavements.

I Loved The Garish Day, And, Spite Of Fears, Pride Ruled My Will: Remember Not Past Years.

Why Should We Be Willing To Go By Faith? We Do All Things In This World By Faith In The Word Of Others. By Faith Only We Know Our Position In The World, Our Circumstances, Our Rights And Privileges, Our Fortunes, Our Parents, Our Brothers And Sisters, Our Age, Our Mortality. Why Should Religion Be An Exception?

A Great Memory Is Never Made Synonymous With Wisdom, Any More Than A Dictionary Would Be Called A Treatise.