It is powerful for good when divinely used.

Give it plenty of air, and it is sweet as the hawthorn; shut it up, and it cankers and breeds worms.

Like all the best gifts of God, like the air and the water, it must have motion and change and shakings asunder; like the earth itself, like the heart and mind of man, it must be broken and turned, not heaped together and neglected.

It is an angel of mercy, whose wings are full of balm and dews and refreshings; but when you lay hold of him, pluck his pinions, pen him in a yard, and fall down and worship him--then, with the blessed vengeance of his master, he deals plague and confusion and terror, to stay the idolatry.

If I misuse or waste or hoard the divine thing, I pray my Master to see to it--my God to punish me.