The worm crawling at your feet fulfils the end of its creation, but you are never at rest—your mind is racked with selfish cares and anxieties, instead of enjoying the beauty, which your Maker places before you—your attention is distracted, forgetting that your time is but short in the body.
When you cross over, you see differently and regret your misuse of life unless you get amongst the bad.
O may that day soon come when we shall get men to look to Jesus as their great exemplar, then will they become our willing captives, then will we have power to draw them on to behold the glory.
O, that I could divide myself into ten thousand spirits that I might labour to recover the lost from the hells in which they lie bound in darkness.
But I can do no more than I am doing for their deliverance, and thousands of us are lamenting the sad condition of our fallen brethren.
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