The Lord gets His best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction.

The keenest griefs cut a narrow but deep channel, and as they wear into the inmost soul they flow without noise.

The Lord Jesus fills out every type, figure, and character. Creation is too small a frame in which to hang his likeness. Human thought is too contracted, human…

The holier a man becomes, the more he mourns over the unholiness which remains in him.