Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me.
John 14:1
Lord, what a change within us one short hour
Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make!
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take!
What parched grounds refresh us with a shower!
We kneel ~and all around us seems to lower.
We rise ~and all the distant and the near
Stand forth in sunny outline, brave and clear.
We kneel ~how weak: we rise ~how full of power.
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong?
Or others ~that we are not always strong;
That we are ever overborne with care;
That we should ever weak or heartless be,
Anxious or troubles, while with us is prayer,
And joy and strength and courage are with Thee?
Archbishop Trench
1807-1886
Where showers fall most, there the grass is greenest. I suppose the fogs and mists of Ireland make it "the Emerald Isle"; and whenever you find great fogs of trouble, and mists of sorrow, you always find emerald green hearts; full of the beautiful verdure of the comfort and love of God. O Christian, do not thou be saying, "Where are the swallows gone? They are gone; they are dead."
They are not dead; they have skimmed the purple sea and gone to a far-off land; but they will be back again by and by. Child of God, say not the flowers are dead; say not the winter has killed them, and they are gone. Ah, no! Though winter hath coated them with the ermine of its snow; they will put up their heads again and will be alive very soon. Say not, child of God, that thesun is quenched, because the cloud hath hidden it. Ah, no; he is behind there, brewing summer for thee; for when he cometh out again, he will have made the clouds fit to drop in April showers, all of them mothers of the sweet May flowers. And oh! above all, when thy God hides His face, say not that He hath forgotten thee. He is but tarrying a little while to make thee love Him better; and when He cometh, thou shalt have joy in the Lord, and shalt rejoice with joy unspeakable. Waiting exercises our grace; waiting tries our faith; therefore, wait on in hope; for though the promise tarry, it can never come too late.
C.H. SPURGEON ~Mornings and Evenings
"All-loving Father, sometimes we have walked under starless skies that dripped darkness like drenching rain. We despaired of starshine or moonlight or sunrise. The sullen blackness gloomed above us as if it would last forever. And out of the dark there spoke no soothing voice to mend our broken hearts. We would gladly have welcomed some wild thunder peal to break the torturing stillness of that over-brooding night.
"But Thy winsome whisper of eternal love spoke more sweetly to our bruised and bleeding souls than any winds that breathe across Aeolian harps. It was Thy 'still small voice' that spoke to us. We were listening and we heard. We looked and saw Thy face radiant with the light of love. And when we heard Thy voice and saw Thy face, new life came back to us as life comes back to withered blooms that drink the summer rain."
Anonymous ~Streams in the Desert
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