The natural heart is . . .
the nursery of sin,
the magazine where all the weapons of unrighteousness lie,
full of antipathy against God,
a lesser Hell.
the nursery of sin,
the magazine where all the weapons of unrighteousness lie,
full of antipathy against God,
a lesser Hell.
Morality is but nature refined — old Adam put in a
better dress. The garnishing of man with moral excellencies, is
but adorning a dead man with a garland of flowers!
Civility is not grace, although it is a good wall
against which to plant the vine of grace.
Sin is not only a defection — but a pollution.
Sin is to the soul, as rust is to gold.
Sin is as a stain is to beauty.
Sin makes the soul red with guilt — and black with
filth!
Sin has blotted God's image and stained the orient
brightness of the soul.
There is more evil in a drop of sin — than in a sea
of affliction.
The love of sin makes sin taste sweet, and this
sweetness beguiles the heart, and ruins the soul.
It is worse to love sin than to commit it. The love
of sin . . .
hardens the heart,
keeps the devil in possession, and
freezes the soul in impenitency.
hardens the heart,
keeps the devil in possession, and
freezes the soul in impenitency.
Despair, on account of sin, locks up the soul in
impenitency. Despair is irrational: the Lord "shows mercy to thousands."
The wings of God's mercy, like the wings of the cherubim, are stretched
out to every humble penitent. Although you have been a great sinner,
yet, if you are a weeping sinner — there is a golden scepter of mercy
held forth.
The sinner may live in a calm — but he will die in a
storm of wrath! He who lives graceless, dies peaceless.
View sin in the looking-glass of Christ's sufferings.
The least sin cost his blood. Jesus Christ veiled his glory and poured
out his soul unto death, on account of sin. Read the greatness of your
sin in the greatness of the Savior's sufferings, and in the depth of his
wounds!
God's long forbearance in not punishing of
sin, is no forgiveness! The longer God delays the blow — the
heavier it falls when he strikes!
When a man sins presumptuously, he stuffs his pillow
with thorns, and his head will lie uneasy when he dies.
Sin casts the soul overboard, and the loss of the
soul is an unparalleled loss — it can never be made up again.