From-Language

Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.

If thou hast my discharge procured, and freely in my room endured the whole of wrath divine, payment God cannot twice demand, first at my bleeding Surety's hand, and then again at mine.

Before the throne of God above / I have a strong and perfect plea, / A great High Priest whose name is Love, / Who ever lives and pleads for me.

I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.

He, the Image of the Father, came and dwelt in our midst, in order that He might renew mankind made after Himself.

Mild he lays his glory by, / Born that we no more may die, / Born to raise the sons of earth, / Born to give them second birth.

Long and loud the Master calls us, / Rich reward He offers free; / Who will answer, gladly saying, / “Here am I, send me, send me”?

Hineni, hineni / I'm ready, my Lord.

The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see; / Hail the incarnate Deity, / Pleased as man with man to dwell, / Jesus, our Emmanuel!

Thus far did I come laden with my sin; / Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, / Till I came hither; what a place is this! / … / Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be / The Man that was there put to shame for me!

My hope is built on nothing less / Than Jesus' blood and righteousness; / I dare not trust the sweetest frame, / But wholly lean on Jesus' name. / On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; / All other ground is sinking sand.

Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

Faith, in the sense in which I am here using the word, is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods.

It is God himself who in holy wrath needs to be propitiated, God himself who in holy love undertook to do the propitiating, and God himself who in the person of his Son died for the propitiation of our sins.

The woman was made of a rib out of the side of Adam; not made out of his head to rule over him, nor out of his feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved.

For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.

God's steadfast love is better than life itself.