Not all the love of angels, nor all the
joys of Paradise,
are so dear to Christ as the love of his poor people,
sprinkled with sin, and compassed with infirmity.
If you saw him standing here tonight, and looking into your
eyes, and saying to you personally — "You love me, I know that
you love me, your love is to me better far than wine;" would
you not fall at his feet and say, "Lord, is my love so sweet to
you? then shame upon me that I should give you so little of it."