Summary

Thoughts for the Quiet Hour

Religion may be learned on Sunday, but it is lived in the week-day's work. The torch of religion may be lit in the church, but it does its burning in the shop and on the street. Religion seeks its life in prayer, but it lives its life in deeds. It is planted in the closet, but it does its growing out in the world. It plumes itself for flight in songs of praise, but its actual flights are in works of love. It resolves and meditates on faithfulness as it reads its Christian lesson in the Book of Truth, but "faithful is that faithful does."
Source: Gutenberg

Thoughts for the Quiet Hour

Let affliction come—God has chosen me. Poverty, thou mayest stride in at my door—but God is in the house already, and He has chosen me. Sickness, thou mayest intrude, but I have a balsam ready—God has chosen me. Whatever befalls me in this vale of tears I know that He has "chosen" me. Fear not, Christian; Jesus is with thee. In all thy fiery trials His presence is both thy comfort and safety. He will never leave one whom He has chosen for His own. "Fear not, for I am with thee," is His sure word of promise to His chosen ones in the "furnace of affliction."—Spurgeon. [95]
Source: Gutenberg

Thoughts for the Quiet Hour

That is the condition of a man who has built himself what seems a creed of faith, a trust in God in anticipation of the day when danger is to overtake him, and has said to himself, I am safe, for I will take refuge in it then. But religion is the house in which we live, it is the table at which we sit, it is the fireside at which we draw near, the room that arches its graceful and familiar presence over us; it is the bed on which we lie and think of the past, and anticipate the future, and gather our refreshment.—Phillips Brooks.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature