When I am weak, and distressed, and alone, and none to receive my tale of sorrow, none to express a word of fellow-feeling or care for me, in the living oracles of the gospel I see divine wisdom and lovingkindness looking at me tenderly, compassionately, through the openings of my prison, and I feel that He who dresses the lily of the field, and numbers the sparrows, is near me, numbering the hairs of my head, listening to my cries, in all the treasures of His grace and power. He is the same gracious Redeemer and Preserver to every one that believes in His name.

B.A. Ramsbottom