Christ all the seasons of the year, is dropping sweetness; if I had vessels I might fill them, but my old riven, holey, and running-out dish, even when I am at the well, can bring little away. Nothing but glory will make tight and fast our leaking and rifty vessels... How little of the sea can a child carry in his hand; as little do I take away of my great sea, my boundless and running-over Christ Jesus.