Quote

There is no burden of the spirit but is lightened by kneeling under it. Little by little, the bitterest feelings are sweetened by the mention of them in prayer. And agony itself stops swelling, if we can only cry sincerely, My God, my God!

William Mountford

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William Mountford
Age: 68 †
Born: 1816
Born: May 31
Died: 1885
Died: April 20
Little
Agony
Stops
Sweetened
Burden
Lightened
Cry
Bitterest
Prayer
Kneeling
Feelings
Swelling
Spirit
Mention
Littles
Sincerely

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Yes, I live in God, and shall eternally. It is His hand upholds me now and death will be but an uplifting of me into His bosom.
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The light of genius is sometimes so resplendent as to make a man walk through life, amid glory and acclamation but it burns very dimly and low when carried into the valley of the shadow of death. But faith is like the evening star, shining into our souls the more brightly, the deeper is the night of death in which they sink.
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With a mind not diseased, a holy life is a life of hope and at the end of it, death is a great act of hope.
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It is our souls which are the everlastingness of God's purpose in this earth.
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It would not be more unreasonable to transplant a favorite flower out of black earth into gold dust than it is for a person to let money-getting harden his heart into contempt, or into impatience, of the little attentions, the merriments and the caresses of domestic life.
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Day and night, and every moment, there are voices about us. All the hours speak as they pass and in every event there is a message to us and all our circumstances talk with us but it is in Divine language, that worldliness misunderstands, that selfishness is frightened at, and that only the children of God hear rightly and happily.
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What thousands and millions of recollections there must be in us! And every now and then one of them becomes known to us and it shows us what spiritual depths are growing in us, what mines of memory.
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O it is a happy thing to feel ourselves helpless and naught, for then the presence of God is felt to wrap us about so lovingly! Everlasting, infinite, almighty, these are the words that strengthen us with speaking them.
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It is not in the bright, happy day, but only in the solemn night, that other worlds are to be seen shining in their long, long distances. And it is in sorrow - the night of the soul - that we see farthest, and know ourselves natives of infinity, and sons and daughters of the Most High.
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Faith is the inspiration of nobleness, it is the strength of integrity it is the life of love, and is everlasting growth for it it is courage of soul, and bridges over for our crossing the gulf between worldliness and heavenly-mindedness and it is the sense of the unseen, without which we could not feel God nor hope for heaven.
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Let God do with me what He will, anything He will and, whatever it be, it will be either heaven itself, or some beginning of it.
William Mountford
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Where is the subject that does not branch out into infinity? For every grain of sand is a mystery so is every daisy in summer, and so is every snow-flake in winter. Both upwards and downwards, and all around us, science and speculation pass into mystery at last.
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The day of our decease will be that of our coming of age and with our last breath we shall become free of the universe. And in some region of infinity, and from among its splendors, this earth will be looked back on like a lowly home, and this life of ours be remembered like a short apprenticeship to duty.
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Men would not be so hasty to abandon the world either as monks or as suicides, did they but see the jewels of wisdom and faith which are scattered so plentifully along its paths and lacking which no soul can come again from beyond the grave to gather.
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Duty reaches down the ages in its effects, and into eternity and when the man goes about it resolutely, it seems to me now as though his footsteps were echoing beyond the stars, though only heard faintly in the atmosphere of this world.
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No martyr ever went the way of duty, and felt the shadow of death upon it. The shadow of death is darkest in the valley, which men walk in easily, and is never felt at all on a steep place, like Calvary. Truth is everlasting, and so is every lover of it and so he feels himself almost always.
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To commiserate is sometimes more than to give, for money is external to a man's self, but he who bestows compassion communicates his own soul.
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Selfishness, eager for a heaven of enjoyment, is quite a different thing in the soul from love and purity and truth, yearning together for what is their natural element.
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This earth will be looked back on like a lowly home, and this life of ours be remembered like a short apprenticeship to duty.
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Do we not hear voices, gentle and great, and some of them like the voices of departed friends,— do we not hear them saying to us, Come up hither?
William Mountford