“How poor, how rich, how abject, how august;
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder he who made him such,
Who mingled in our make such strange extremes
Of different natures, marvellously mixed!
Helpless immortal, insect infinite,
A worm, a god - I tremble at myself!”
Oh, my soul, tremble at thyself! Tremble at the fearfulness of thy situation; and commit thine immortal all into his hands “who is able to keep thee from falling, and to present thee faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.” - Andrew Fuller.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment