“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.”
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The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.—Rest in the Lord .—He that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works.
My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips: when I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches.
How precious . . . are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.—How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!—Thy love is better than wine.
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