Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 14, 2010 8:33:30 GMT -6
REVELATION
A prince you came into my life In brave array, as princes should, And bowed in homage at my feet With reverence for my womanhood.
Love taught you tender ways to woo Beneath the skies of bending blue; And all the little laughing hours Were garlanded with sunsweet flowers. Though singing birds seemed to proclaim That with your coming true love came, Somehow I was bereft, as though I missed some joy I did not know.
One day, with draggled garments torn, You came through driving rain and sleet, With lagging steps, and shoulders bowed Beneath the burden of defeat.
All song was hushed, the birds were mute, And love sat silent with his lute. The moments listened, half afraid, To hear what farewell words I said. But to my soul a glory came, And sudden radiance to your name . . . I knew, your head upon my breast, Your need of me—and I was blest!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2010 8:57:44 GMT -6
“ We give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you” (Colossians 1:3). AFTER A LONG ILLNESS
I rode down on the cable car today. I left my ordered, quiet room, and gave No backward glance at all my well — loved books, Nor at the pictured faces on my walls, Nor bade farewell to those pale ghosts of prayers And dreams which filled the silence and spoke More loud than ceaseless ticking of my clock. For I was sudden sick to death for just One sight of stranger — faces, and the touch And jostling of the busy city street.
When the conductor helped me on the car In casual way, he little knew one rode With high adventure in her heart. The pulse Of life was beating in upon my brain, And all the world was strangely made anew. And when I saw the people crowding in, My fellow passengers, I wished that I Might bid them sit up close, Oh, close, and make Me feel they were alive and well and glad.
Then on my grateful unaccustomed cheeks The fresh crisp air was tingling, and the sense Of motion seemed so wonderful as he, The motorman, grasped at the bar which clutched The powerful cable. We were off! I cast A quick look round to see if anyone Were noting how my heart beat fast with joy. But no, they only saw a woman clad In quiet clothes, who sat and looked about.
A few were reading. Others dully watched The blocks slip slowly by. There was some talk Of business, gossip, jest. Since thoughts had been My only comrades for so long, the sound Of spoken words and clash of mind on mind Fell like sweet music on my ears.
A girl Sat with a proudly bared left hand to show A ring which newly sparkled there, nor knew That hovering about her head were all The years of noble wifehood which were lived By women since the world began. A child Had lifted up a drowsy head from off His mother's breast. His cheek was marked and creased From resting on the buttons of her coat. She kissed him, and her eyes were miracles Of tenderness. I thought, Did Mary know More heights and depths of joy and grief than those Which came to lowly mothers everywhere?
A swart Italian peddler, muttering, Was counting pennies in his dirty hands. A covert smile ran round the car — and yet, The blood of Michelangelo, who knew The face of Christ so well that he could paint It for us, long ago! A fussy, plump, And pretty matron scanned her shopping list, Her vision, couched in terms of concrete things. A sallow youth bore all the marks of him Who one time fed upon the husks with swine.
Two fair young girls, all springtime loveliness And laughter — brimming eyes, were chattering. I sighed to think that such incarnate youth Must ever fade or have its beauty dimmed. But near to them an old man, nodding, dozed, With all his heart writ on his peaceful face, The face of one who long had walked with God. I found his face more beautiful than that Of youth, and so my heart was comforted.
Two lads who wore their country's uniform . . . They were so tall, so straight, so strong, and yet So very young that from my aching heart There rose to God a mother's prayer for them.
And still the slow car glided down the hill With all its freight of human souls, each like No other soul in all the world. It was A solemn thought, that never would we meet Again in this world nor the next. And yet, So strange this wall we build about ourselves, That I could not put out my hand and say, “My fellow travelers, I too am bound For an eternal destiny. I too Bear scarce healed scars of battle — may we not Have fellowship? I too know love and grief, I too have made mistakes, and once I found The star dust glittering upon my hair From walking in white places through God's night Of sorrow and of trial. But belov'd, I met a wondrous Stranger on my road, And He became my Friend. He bore my sins, And died for me, and daily now He walks Beside me, teaching me. He has become So dear I could not live apart from Him, Nor ever shall, for He is coming soon, This blessed, blessed Lord, to take me home And I shall dwell with Him forevermore!”
All this, yet I was dumb. They do not know One rode with them today who loved them well; They do not know, Oh, bitter be my shame, That I forever lost the chance to tell Them of my Lord. They do not know that prayers Arose for each of them to God in heaven!
And now their presence fills my lonely room, And crowds out all the lurking shadows there, And these shall always seem like friends to me, For they are those for whom I prayed! . . .Ah, Lord, I will live out my years in pain if that Must be, and make no moan — I only ask That I, Thy weakest child, may not forget Thou hast the power through prayer of mine, to change. The destiny of those who walk with me!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2010 3:25:07 GMT -6
“ For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now” (Romans 8:22). HIS FALLEN SPARROWS When I was just a little girl we had as a neighbor an old lady who lived alone. Her only companion was her canary. One day the bird died, and the old lady, broken with grief, opened the front of her dress, laid the little creature in it, and carried it about for days, refusing to bury it. We children, knowing nothing of bitter loneliness, were inclined to be amused, but my mother said, “Never, never laugh at the grief of another. Never even feel amused by it. If you cannot understand it, it only shows your own lack of comprehension. The fact that the grief is real is enough to merit your sympathy.” Then she gently took the bird from the sorrowing owner, wrapped it in her best handkerchief, put it in a little box and buried it. Now my mother did not care for pets, yet see how perfect was her understanding. I have never forgotten her words, especially since it has been my lot to care too deeply for my pets. Sometimes when I could not but grieve over the death of a loved dog, I have wished that others could have learned the gentle lesson my mother taught to me. I would say a word in behalf of the dumb but loyal and devoted friends of mankind, who must take patiently and helplessly the treatment which man metes out to them. The animal world is innocent of all wrongdoing, yet they are under the curse because of man's sin, not their own. Does not common justice demand that we give them kindness and consideration, if we cannot give them love? And I can tell you from experience that they give in return much that is rich and beautiful, in touchingly bountiful measure. Oh, for the blessed time that is coming, when the curse shall be removed and “ they shall not hurt nor destroy in all thy holy hill.”
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2010 4:10:14 GMT -6
EAVESDROPPING
All day their footsteps pass my sickroom window, some slow, some hurrying. All day long their words drift up to me with a significance they never meant.
“I just can't buy them both. I have to choose.” Ah, don't we all? Help us, dear Lord, to use wisdom in our choice.
“So teacher says I gotta stay in after school.” Inexorably, broken laws bring punishment.
“Well, so long, I'll see you later.” How can he be so sure of life's uncertainties?
“Lovey, do the new shoes hurt your feet? Let Daddy carry you.” I thought upon a tender Shepherd who carried the wee lamb in His bosom.
Sometimes two lovers whispering. I always stop my ears and breathe a little prayer for them.
“I really don't know why I did it. I just never thought.” Forgive us, Lord, the harm we've wrought because we “never thought!”
“Now if you will just keep mum, I think that I can swing this deal.” The point is, shall we find in heaven that our deals have paid?
“I'll tell the world, I sure stepped on the gas.” Speed, speed, the tired world hurries so, and does it know where it is going?
“Yes, now the children all are grown, I have it easier, of course, and yet somehow . . .” Old story of the empty nest, the birdlings flown.
An old man, mumbling to himself, is busy picking snipes out of the gutter filth. He never looks up to see the sky. Do we do this?
“Can I have a penny to spend? Mama, can I spend a penny? Can't I spend a penny, Mama? Say, Mama, can't I have . . .” trailing off into the distance. So we, ofttimes, insistently, demanding foolish gifts of God!
“I pick such good committees, yet I always have to do the work myself. Oh, well, a willing horse you know. But then, I like to work, I'm happier if I keep busy.” So should I be, oh, weary hours of pain, oh, idle, folded hands, so should I be!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 23, 2010 10:57:37 GMT -6
“ And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm” (Mark 4:39). WINDS
All about me great winds blowing, And only I am still. Winds have fingers Which touch me gently.
There is a hunger in the wind, There is a sound of surf Breaking on an unknown shore. Winds that have mourned Over a lone grave far away, Winds that have circled the stars.
There are ghosts in the wind tonight, Ghosts of the memories I never had. But in my heart, only stillness.
Winds blowing over my dreams Where my lost twilights lie, Winds blowing over my heart, Is it life that is passing me by?
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2010 8:29:10 GMT -6
“ He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still” (Psalms 107:29). BATTLE
Give me the storm! Fierce winds that blow Till I bow before the blast. Crashes of thunder and torrents of rain. Sleet that cuts my face like knives. Let me walk thus for mile upon mile, Panting for breath, Fighting my way!
Give me the storm, dear Lord, For all day I am fighting shadows, Real and terrible, In my lonely room.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2010 7:22:52 GMT -6
“ As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him” (Colossians 2:6). ETHER Swaying, adrift in the dark, formless and void. Black, eternal night, echoing caverns, vastness and emptiness. Lonely, wandering winds, lost since time began. No beginning, no end. Falling, falling, forever alone, through the bottomless, compassing dark. Then a voice. How it crashed on my ears, and echoed, and pained and bewildered me, calling my name. The reverberations died away and I drifted again in the dark. But it called me again and again, that voice which had never called me in vain. It would not let me rest, though rest was so sweet. So I fought with the quicksand which pulled at my feet, I struggled up, up, through the darkness, millions of miles through the trackless void, only that voice my goal. My heavy eyelids opened. A white face bending over me, like a great light in the room. Long, long I looked, and then I saw your eyes, my beloved, compelling me, holding me, making me live! Often I go back in memory to that far day, and I thank God for that strong tender one He gave to me, that beloved one who called me back from the dark, and who has since walked with me for many happy years — for could I do aught than give to him that life he saved? And then in memory my thoughts go still further back, to a time when I was lost, forever and eternally lost. And One came seeking me, strong and tender beyond all imagining, rich beyond comprehension, the very Son of God! At infinitely heartbreaking cost to Himself, He stooped and lifted me up to Himself and set me safely upon a rock. Since then all that is His He has given to me, and we have walked together many years in a blessed companionship, this Precious Lord and I, for how could I do aught than give into His keeping that life He saved?
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2010 9:08:52 GMT -6
“ In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me” (Psalms 56:4). TOGETHER
No longer am I a stranger here, Lost in a desert land; My Lord prepareth the way for me, And leadeth me by the hand.
Yea, He holdeth my hand in His right hand When I am sore afraid, And He whispers, “Fear thou not, My child, And be thou not dismayed;
“Through paths that thou hast not known before I will guide thy stumbling feet, I will make the darkness light for thee, And the bitter waters sweet.
“Before thou dost call I will answer thee, I will break the gates of brass, I will cut in sunder the iron bars, And safely we shall pass.”
And so, with His hand still leading me, Together we shall come To a door of pearl . . . We shall enter in, And together, be at home!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2010 4:56:29 GMT -6
“ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me” (Psalms 23:4). DYING GRACE
Since death is but the opening of a door Into a larger, fairer room — nay, more It is the welcoming of His voice, the touch Of His dear hand on ours at last — if such Is death, why should we ever be afraid, Or doubt that He will keep the promise made? Then trust Him, frightened child, for He will give Us grace to die who gives us grace to live! Await His time — do we need dying grace While we are living? But when, face to face With that last moment, He will take our hand To lead us home, and we shall understand And smile at fear, and smiling, enter, for Our death will be the opening of His door!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2010 8:25:21 GMT -6
“ Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed” (I Corinthians 15:51-52). THE RAPTURE
Long hours drag by. From this my bed of pain I scan the sky Whence He will come again.
A shout, a light! Then, borne upon the breeze I take my flight Above the dimming trees.
Far down the sky The age — old planets plod Their course, but I Am winging on toward God!
My pulses sing, My heart a homing bird. The heavens ring With music never heard.
The sky, in all Its blue eternal steeps, Echoes His call Wherever starlight sleeps.
Hosts of redeemed Make glad the listening air. Rapture long dreamed, My living Lord is there!
O weary heart, Let not your faith grow dim. This still your part: To work and wait for Him!
|
|
|
Post by Keith on Dec 30, 2010 14:07:06 GMT -6
Amen. Please Lord, tarry not long.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2010 9:15:44 GMT -6
THE BRIGHTENING PATH OF PAIN Everyone needs to work in order to remain normal, and it is such a comfort that none of us are too ill to know the joy of accomplishment, the opportunity to win crowns, sheaves to lay at the feet of the Lord of the harvest. Years ago I was reading the Bible to a little boy of nine who had recently given his heart to Christ. He had had no Christian upbringing and thus the truth of the Word of God was new to him. I found that he caught the marvel of it in a way that shamed me at times. I was explaining about the five kinds of rewards, and read to him the verse, “ Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness . . .” His eyes grew bigger and bigger, and at last he fairly gasped, “Oh, are there going to be crown too? I should think it would be enough just to save our souls!” There is so much we who are the Lord's can do. I have long had the habit of praying for those whose stories of sin and sorrow are spread all over the pages of our newspapers, even for the murderers awaiting execution. And, of course, I pray for all Christian work and workers everywhere. Then there is that very quiet work of grace. All summer I have thrilled to a miracle in our back yard. We had a sapling fig tree, only knee high. We poured on the water, and it drank it in and spread its little branches to catch the sunshine. I took such pride in it and would stroke its straight strong trunk and limbs so unlike my twisted body. It grew so quietly, never a sound nor a stir, yet now it is six feet tall, and this fall gave us largess of gifts, great fat figs bursting with their own sweetness. So we, on quiet beds of pain, may drink in His Word, and open our hearts to His Holy Spirit until we too bear fruit. It is such a blessing to know that God makes no mistakes, that this illness is not something that just happened to me. “ Shall the thing framed say of him that framed it, He hath no understanding?” No, the enduring is mine, to be sure, but the responsibility for it is entirely His, and what a difference that makes! Nothing can even touch the child of God without His permissive will. It is not necessary for me to know the reasons, for they are safe with our dear Lord, “ in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” I am no wise theologian, but I have thought that surely God will be glad when this is all over and He will no longer have to watch His children suffer, when all tears will be wiped from our eyes, and a song put upon our lips. Until then cannot we “ endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ” and spare Him the sound of our wailing?
|
|
|
Post by Caretaker on Dec 31, 2010 15:32:24 GMT -6
THE BRIGHTENING PATH OF PAIN Everyone needs to work in order to remain normal, and it is such a comfort that none of us are too ill to know the joy of accomplishment, the opportunity to win crowns, sheaves to lay at the feet of the Lord of the harvest. Years ago I was reading the Bible to a little boy of nine who had recently given his heart to Christ. He had had no Christian upbringing and thus the truth of the Word of God was new to him. I found that he caught the marvel of it in a way that shamed me at times. I was explaining about the five kinds of rewards, and read to him the verse, “ Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness . . .” His eyes grew bigger and bigger, and at last he fairly gasped, “Oh, are there going to be crown too? I should think it would be enough just to save our souls!” There is so much we who are the Lord's can do. I have long had the habit of praying for those whose stories of sin and sorrow are spread all over the pages of our newspapers, even for the murderers awaiting execution. And, of course, I pray for all Christian work and workers everywhere. Then there is that very quiet work of grace. All summer I have thrilled to a miracle in our back yard. We had a sapling fig tree, only knee high. We poured on the water, and it drank it in and spread its little branches to catch the sunshine. I took such pride in it and would stroke its straight strong trunk and limbs so unlike my twisted body. It grew so quietly, never a sound nor a stir, yet now it is six feet tall, and this fall gave us largess of gifts, great fat figs bursting with their own sweetness. So we, on quiet beds of pain, may drink in His Word, and open our hearts to His Holy Spirit until we too bear fruit. It is such a blessing to know that God makes no mistakes, that this illness is not something that just happened to me. “ Shall the thing framed say of him that framed it, He hath no understanding?” No, the enduring is mine, to be sure, but the responsibility for it is entirely His, and what a difference that makes! Nothing can even touch the child of God without His permissive will. It is not necessary for me to know the reasons, for they are safe with our dear Lord, “ in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” I am no wise theologian, but I have thought that surely God will be glad when this is all over and He will no longer have to watch His children suffer, when all tears will be wiped from our eyes, and a song put upon our lips. Until then cannot we “ endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ” and spare Him the sound of our wailing? God bless you; A powerful message!!! I was reminded of Horatio Spafford, whose wife and children had sailed across the Atlantic as he was delayed. A shipwreck and a telegram from his wife which said simply,"Saved alone". H penned the words to "It Is Well With My Soul", as he was passing by the place where his precious children were lost. May we be able to truly place our faith and trust so securely in Christ that no matter what comes we can also say with Brother Spafford: When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul. Refrain: It is well, with my soul, It is well, it is well, with my soul. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed His own blood for my soul. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: If Jordan above me shall roll, No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul. But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait, The sky, not the grave, is our goal; Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul! And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll; The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, Even so, it is well with my soul.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2011 9:08:51 GMT -6
“ And thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee: for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just” (Luke 14:14). RECOMPENSE
I left the darkened room where pain and I Kept tryst so long. A rival wooed me, soft his tender note, A robin's song. I was so cold, so tired, as one whose race Is almost run. I had forgot how warm in other days Had shone the sun.
And that there were no bounds to all the arch Of heaven's blue. I stared about — the whole bright world had been Created new!
But though the sunlight beat so kind and warm Upon my hair, I missed the little room I loved because I found God there!
Perhaps but for those days in darkened room, A chastened child, I had not known how deep His grace . . . I looked Toward God and smiled!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2011 7:01:27 GMT -6
HALF ASLEEP Dream dust; fancies softly drift in mauve and gray twilight. Old memories, their ashes touched to rose by a breath; my mother's hand upon my hair. Lilies, and heartsease, and bitter rue. Far sounds — a tinkling bell, a watch dog's bark, a child's quick laugh. Wet smell of leaves in summer rain. Forgetfulness of pain and grief until tomorrow. “God's mercy is renewed with each new day.” Thy quickening power, O Lord, Thy strengthening grace! Thy mercy, Lord, for those who sin and go astray, and those who sorrow; rest for those who toil and gladness for all children. Protecting wings arch over me. Tomorrow's tasks, old pain, old memories, forgotten now. Into Thy hands, O Lord, into Thy hands. Adrift on a sea of peace . . . Asleep.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2011 8:25:55 GMT -6
“ And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body” (Romans 8:23). THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY
My weary flesh had need of rest, And now, above my quiet breast, Daisies blossom in the grass; Over me the night winds pass,
And softly falls the summer rain. Earth has received her child again To her brown breast, and sweet and low The lullabies she sings. And so
He giveth His beloved sleep. But let my sleep not be so deep, Beneath this cool and tranquil sod, That I forget my dream of God.
My flesh must yet a journey make. May some least part remain awake Until I hear the voice of God Ask tenderly, “Was your sleep good,
And are you rested now? Then come, My child, today you shall go home!”
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 6, 2011 9:23:02 GMT -6
“ Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name” (Psalms 100:4). THANKSGIVING
We give Thee our griefs, O Father, We cast our burdens on Thee, The woes of all Thy children Are before Thee constantly.
We bring Thee our sins and follies, We pour our tears at Thy feet. Help us, O Lord, to remember That Thy heart might find it sweet
If we brought Thee our joys and pleasures As well as our sorrow and tears, Would not the sound of our laughter Make music in Thine ears?
To the earthly giver we tender The smile and the grateful word; How then can we be forgetting To thank our bountiful Lord?
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 7, 2011 9:08:52 GMT -6
“ In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also” (John 14:2-3). WHEN HE SHALL CALL ME
When He shall call me, let me go Not with laggard step and slow, Not with terror in my heart. Is it not the better part To be with Him who loves me so, And longs for me? Then let me go With eager heart, with utter trust That though my flesh return to dust Yet this my soul will know no death. My raptured spirit, in a breath, Shall be with God, at last, at last, With all earth's weary journey past! Hark!—His sweet voice who bore my sin, “This is thy home My child, come in!”
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2011 9:41:50 GMT -6
OPEN SESAME
The pictures on my walls are doors Which open into wonderlands For my delight, and bring release From weary limbs and folded hands.
So every day I merely choose Which magic door I'll step within, And only hurry back in time For lunch tray or for medicine.
Sometimes the white road beckons me — I steal away, and far beyond Its farthest bend I roam all day, A happy, care-free vagabond.
Gray days I seek this Mission which Lies drowsing under sunny skies. Across the trackless desert sands I watch the shimmering heat waves rise.
When autumn calls, I panting scale This hill which towers above the plain. Here all the winds of heaven blow For me, and I am free again!
And there is one, the face of Christ . . . And as I gaze, the very door Of heaven itself is opened wide To me! How could I ask for more?
Sometimes my pitying callers say, “How can you bear it here all day?” But I have found contentment, for My every picture is a door!
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2011 8:09:41 GMT -6
THE ROOM UNTENANTED I have heard a cry like this from one whose nerves were wrecked, and who knew not God. “I dare not be alone. The ghosts of my heart come forth, touching cold fingers to my wounds, walking beside me noiselessly. I speak to frighten them away, but they mock me with the echo of my words. If I read they dance before me on the printed page. I drop the book and listen shudderingly in the hush of the ensuing silence. I start upstairs, atiptoe, slowly, avoiding the creaking boards, but they send panic after me and I rush panting to the top. “They have set the walls like soldiers about me, relentless, and staring and grim. I dare not shriek nor wring my hands. I must go softly. Is there no one who can understand, or can share with me this dreadful solitude? “O let me come into your house, where there is love, and the laughter of children. Let me warm myself by your fire. Let me sit beside you as you tell me the secret of your peace.” Dear lonely one, how well I understand! In every human heart there is an empty place which no one ever enters. Try as they may, even our very dearest cannot pass its doors. And yet if it remain untenanted, bleak ghosts move in, and thus our lives are forever haunted. Haunted by memories which we would fain forget, by dreams which never came to birth, by strange emotions and complex desires, by broken resolutions, by failure and remorse, by sin—a motley crew which move silently but dreadfully in the Stygian darkness of the sinful heart. O frightened, lonely one, did you not know that God made that empty place because He wanted it for Himself? Did you not dream that your ghost-ridden room, after He has cleansed it, may by His grace, become an inner sanctuary, the secret place of the Most High? No human relationship can ever completely satisfy, for we are so made that only He can ever fill the empty, starving human heart. This discontent and terror, this aching loneliness, are but the natural desire of the soul which cannot be complete except in Him. Give then, this heart to Him who bought it with His precious blood, and you will find a beloved Presence abiding in your once untenanted room, and you will know a precious relationship which will be forever undisturbed by time or change, by fear or doubt, even by death itself for we “ shall ever be with the Lord.” Terror will give place to peace, and adoration and contemplation of His loveliness and His grace will fill the once lonely hours. He will abide with you permanently and eternally; He will go with you all the days of this earthly life. He will seek out each hidden darkness and flood it with the light of His Word; He will instill in your heart a compelling desire to do His perfect will, to gather sheaves which you may lay before His feet at the judgment seat of Christ. He will see you safely through the valley of death, (if the Lord tarry), He will enter heaven's gate with you and present you faultless before the throne of God! “ For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
|
|