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O your honour, it's all right and proper for gentlefolks to stay up by candle-light-they've got no cheese on their minds. We're late enough as it is, an' there's no lettin' the cows know as they mustn't want to be milked so early to-morrow mornin'. So, if you'll please t' excuse us, we'll take our leave.

Thoughts are so great-aren't they, sir? They seem to lie upon us like a deep flood.

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It isn't for men to make channels for God's Spirit, as they make channels for the water-courses, and say, 'Flow here, but flow not there.'

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We mustn't be in a hurry to fix and choose our own lot ; we must wait to be guided.

We are led on, like the little children, by a way that we know not.

It's good to live only a moment at a time, as I've read in one of Mr. Wesley's books. It isn't for you and me to lay plans; we've nothing to do but to obey and to trust.

It is a vain thought to flee from the work that God appoints us, for the sake of finding a greater blessing to our own souls, as if we could choose for ourselves

where we shall find the fulness of the Divine Presence, instead of seeking it where alone it is to be found, in loving obedience.

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It makes no difference-whether we live or die, we are in the presence of God.

I think, sir, when God makes his presence felt through us, we are like the burning bush: Moses never took any heed what sort of bush it was-he only saw the brightness of the Lord.

It's a strange thing-sometimes when I'm quite alone, sitting in my room with my eyes closed, or walking over the hills, the people I've seen and known, if it's only been for a few days, are brought before me, and I hear their voices and see them look and move almost plainer than I ever did when they were really with me so as I could touch them. And then my heart is drawn out towards them, and I feel their lot as if it was my own, and I take comfort in spreading it before the Lord and resting in his love, on their behalf as well as my own.

The heart of man is the same everywhere.

I cannot but think that the brethren sometimes err in measuring the Divine love by the sinner's knowledge.

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Trouble comes to us all in this life we set our hearts on things which it isn't God's will for us to have, and then we go sorrowing; the people we love are taken from us, and we can joy in nothing because they are not with us; sickness comes, and we faint under the burden of our feeble bodies; we go astray and do wrong, and bring ourselves into trouble with our fellowmen. There is no man or woman born into this world to whom some of these trials do not fall.

We are sometimes required to lay our natural, lawful affections on the altar.

I've noticed, that in these villages where the people lead a quiet life among the green pastures and the still waters, tilling the ground and tending the cattle, there's a strange deadness to the Word, as different as can be from the great towns, like Leeds, where I once went to visit a holy woman who preaches there. It's wonderful how rich is the harvest of souls up those highwalled streets, where you seemed to walk as in a prisonyard, and the ear is deafened with the sounds of worldly toil. I think maybe it is because the promise is sweeter when this life is so dark and weary, and the soul gets more hungry when the body is ill at ease.

That meeting between the brothers, where Esau is so loving and generous, and Jacob so timid and distrustful, notwithstanding his sense of the Divine favour, has always touched me greatly. Truly, I have been

tempted sometimes to say that Jacob was of a mean spirit. But that is our trial:-we must learn to see the good in the midst of much that is unlovely.

I remember when my dear aunt died, I longed for the sound of her bad cough in the nights, instead of the silence that came when she was gone.

I've noticed it often among my own people around Snowfield, that the strong, skilful men are often the gentlest to the women and children; and it's pretty to see 'em carrying the little babies as if they were no heavier than little birds. And the babies always seem to like the strong arm best.

Poor dog! I've a strange feeling about the dumb things as if they wanted to speak, and it was a trouble to 'em because they couldn't. I can't help being sorry for the dogs always, though perhaps there's no need. But they may well have more in them than they know how to make us understand, for we can't say half what we feel, with all our words.

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We are over-hasty to speak-as if God did not manifest himself by our silent feeling, and make his love felt through ours.

God can't bless you while you have one falsehood in your soul; his pardoning mercy can't reach you until you open your heart to him, and say, 'I have done this great wickedness; O God, save me, make me pure from sin.' While you cling to one sin and will not part with it, it must drag you down to misery after death, as it has dragged you to misery here in this world, my poor, poor Hetty. It is sin that brings dread, and darkness, and despair: there is light and blessedness for us as soon as we cast it off: God enters our souls then, and teaches us, and brings us strength and peace.

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The true cross of the Redeemer was the sin and sorrow of this world—that was what lay heavy on his heart-and that is the cross we shall share with him, that is the cup we must drink of with him, if we would have any part in that Divine Love which is one with his sorrow.

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Ah, that is a blessed time, isn't it, Seth, when the outward light is fading, and the body is a little wearied with its work and its labour. Then the inward light shines the brighter, and we have a deeper sense of resting on the Divine strength. I sit on my chair in the dark room and close my eyes, and it is as if I was out of the body and could feel no want for evermore. For then, the very hardship, and the sorrow, and the blindness, and the sin, I have beheld and been ready to weep over,-yea, all the anguish of the children of men, which sometimes wraps me round like sudden

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