Trouble is an apothecary that mixes a great many draughts, bitter and sour, and nauseous, and you must drink some one of them. Trouble puts up a great many packs, and you must carry some of.them.
There is no sandal so thick and well adjusted but some thorn will strike through it. There is no sound so sweet, but the undertaker’s screw-driver grates through it. In this swift shuttle of the heart some of the threads must break.
We pluck some of our best comforts from the very midst of our trials. I have noticed that some of the sweetest berries grow on the sharpest thorns.
Afflictions are loathsome things, but they are necessary. They are leeches that draw out the inflammation of the soul.—TALMAGE.