We know not, and we may not know
Till dawn the endless ages,
Why round his children here below
The howling tempest rages;
But this we know, that life nor death
Our souls from him can sever!
We’ll praise him with our latest breath
We’ll sing his praise forever!
WORDS OF CHEER FOR FAINTING CHRISTIANS.
Poor pilgrim, weary with the toils of life, distressed
and afflicted on every hand, persecuted and forsaken
by thy fellowmen, hast thou ever fathomed the depths
of that glorious declaration, “I will never
leave thee, nor forsake thee"?—Heb. 13:5.
Hast thou ever realized that in whatever situation
thou mayest be placed—on the mountains of
delight or in the vale of humiliation, in sickness
or in health, in prosperity or in adversity, in life
or in death—thou art under the immediate
protection of the great Shepherd of Israel, who never
sleeps nor slumbers? The heavens may gather blackness,
the storm may come down in fury, but He who whispered,
“Peace, be still,” to the raging billows,
is “the same yesterday, to-day and forever”;
and though now invisible his presence is with thee
as truly and as really as it was with the timid band
of disciples on the stormy sea of Galilee. The
same Jesus that walked the streets of Jerusalem,—the
pitiful, the affectionate, the tender-hearted,—is
an eye-witness of all thy tears, thy trials and temptations.
His ear, which was never closed to the cry of the
poor and needy, is still open to thy call; and the
heart which embraced the whole universe has a place
for thee. The fires upon thy altar may have grown
dim; the sacrifice may have been the poor and lean
of thy flock; but the coals of divine love are bright
upon the heavenly altar; and the great Sacrifice—the
Lamb without spot or blemish-whispers of Calvary and
Gethsemane, and mentions thee in his intercession.
Amazing love! love never to be fathomed. Angels
who wait to do his’ bidding, seraphim and cherubim
who behold his face in glory, can ye comprehend the
height and depth, the length and breadth of the Saviour’s
love? Ah! angels, and seraphim, and cherubim still
bend above the mercy-seat and “desire to look
into” these things; but ages on ages of eternity
may roll away and the love that bowed the heavens
for sinful and degraded mortals shall still remain
an unsounded deep! And this love is for thee—for
thee—, poor pilgrim. Plunge
then deeply into this unfathomable ocean. Fear
not to loosen thy hold upon the shore: there
is nothing there worthy thy love. Thou art an
heir of immortality, and the pleasures which endure
for a season should be nothing to thee. Wealth,
and honor, and power are only the gildings of a groaning
and sin-cursed earth. The shouts of mirth and
revelry borne upon the midnight air, are only the
prelude to tears and sighs and mourning. Behind
thee is the blackness of despair, before thee the
everlasting sunshine. Away, away! tarry not to
sip water from the broken cistern, for the living
fountain gushes forth, clear as crystal; and the invitation
is for all: “Ho, every one that thirsteth”
(Isa. 55: 1; Rev. 21:6; 22:17).—Aug.
10, 1856.
