They Lose Nothing Who Gain Christ.

Jesus Christ Came Into My Prison Cell Last Night, And Every Stone Flashed Like A Ruby.

When The Race Is Ended, And The Play Is Either Won Or Lost, And Ye Are In The Utmost Circle And Border Of Time, And Shall Put Your Foot Within The March Of Eternity, All The Good Things Of Your Short Nightdream Shall Seem To You Like Ashes Of A Blaze Of Thorns Or Straw.

Let Us Be Faithful And Care For Our Own Part, Which Is To Do And Suffer For Him, And Lay Christ's Part On Himself, And Leave It There; Duties Are Ours, Events Are The Lord's.

Grace Tried Is Better Than Grace, And More Than Grace; It Is Glory In Its Infancy

The Good Husbandman May Pluck His Rose & Gather In His Lily.