But there are also sufferings for which there seems to be no explanation, and for which we shall have to wait to understand. A little while ago a woman, prematurely aged, drew me aside at the close of a service and said, "I came a hundred miles today to hear you preach, and to speak with you a few words, and to seek comfort from you in my distress. You have known our family many years. You knew my husband well. He was a good man, a Christian man, who lived the life he preached. Once he was happy and useful in the Lord's work. Difficulty arose in connection with his work, and blame was thrown on him. It broke his heart, and he could not bear up under it. Distressed and dazed, he staggered along for two years and then died — as I believe a martyr to his Lord. Our oldest son ceased not to grieve for his father, and within two years followed him to the grave. I gave myself to the task of educating the two girls, even going to the wash-tub to support them and keep them in school. The eldest entered Christian work and was the joy of my heart. But a little while ago she fell into terrible sin, and now it is discovered that the cause was her unbalanced mind, and she grows worse as the weeks pass. But I have comforted myself in my little girl — now fifteen — who has been my constant companion all these years. But of late she has been given to fits of anger and strange uncontrol, and last week, the specialist told me she has an incurable form of insanity. And one of the strange things is that in her unaccountable moments she turns against me, accusing me of mistreating and neglecting her and of being an unnatural mother: My heart is crushed, but I still believe in God, and in the goodness of God. And though I am distressed above measure, I hold fast to faith and my hope of Heaven. And when I prayed I was impressed that if I would come here today you could and would help me."
I stood for a moment silent in the presence of a grief and sorrow deeper than death. Then I said, "Sister, God sent you here to help me. The very fact that you hold fast in the midst of your many and deep grief gives me greater courage. I shall preach the comfort of Christ to those in sorrow and distress as I never preached Him before. You have had the seventh trouble and He has not forsaken you. I shall preach a stronger Gospel because of your visit today. I cannot help you, but you have helped me." Then that strange thing happened that many a faithful pastor has witnessed. The woman's deep grief found relief in copious tears, and, between sobs, she cried, "You have said just the things I needed to hear. Your words have comforted me beyond measure. I knew God had heard my prayer and sent me to you. I shall go home this afternoon to fight further the good fight of faith, and, by His grace, to lay hold upon eternal life. I can wait to learn why so many grievous things have happened to me and my family, but I shall understand it all when I stand in His Presence. I can wait. I am happy and glad to wait."— Gospel Herald.
Do not trouble trouble
Till trouble troubles you;
Do not look for trouble,
Let trouble look for you.
Do not hurry worry,
By worrying, it comes;
To flurry is to worry,
'Twill miss you if you're "mum."
Who feareth, hath forsaken
The Heavenly Father's side;
What He hath undertaken
He surely will provide.
The very birds reprove thee
With all their happy songs;
The very flowers teach thee
That fretting is a wrong.
"Cheer up," the sparrow chirpeth,
"Thy Father feedeth me;
Think how much more He careth,
Oh! lonely child, for thee."
"Fear not," the flowers whisper;
"Since thus He hath arrayed
The buttercups and daisy,
How canst thou be afraid?"
Then do not trouble trouble
Till trouble troubles you;
You'll only double trouble,
And trouble others, too!—Selected.
I have read of a king who placed a heavy stone in the road and hid to see who would remove it. Men of various classes came and worked their way around it, some loudly blaming the king for not keeping the highways clear, but all dodging the duty of getting it out of the way. At last a poor peasant, on his way to town with his burden of vegetables for sale, came, and contemplating the stone, laid down his load, and rolled it into the gutter. Then, turing around he spied a purse which had lain right under the stone. He opened it and found it full of gold pieces with a note from the king, saying it was for the one who should remove the stone.
Under every cross our King has hidden a blessing. We can turn back from a cross, or go around it, but we are eternal losers if we do. We cannot dodge the cross without dodging God's blessing, and we cannot refuse it without endangering our crown — He is watching. —Selected.
O Lord, who knowest every need of mine,
Help me to bear each cross and not repine;
Grant me fresh courage every day,
Help me to do my work alway
O Lord, thou knowest well how dark the way,
Guide thou my footsteps, lest they stray;
Give me fresh faith for every hour,
Lest I should ever doubt thy power,
And make complaint!
Give me a heart, O Lord, strong to endure,
Help me to keep it simple, pure;
Make me unselfish, helpful, true,
In every act, whate'er I do.
And keep content!
Help me to do my woman's share,
Make me courageous, strong to bear
Sunshine or shadow in my life;
Sustain me in the daily strife
To keep content!—War Cry.