| Things to Live For |
Chapter 17 |
Page 6 |
There is no doubt that sorrow is one of the secrets of the truest, deepest home happiness. Perhaps few marriages reach their sweetest, fullest blending until the wedded pair stand hand in hand beside the grave of a loved member of their home circle.
The beatitude of Christ shows that the blessing of sorrow lies in the comfort. A large portion of the Bible is comfort which can become ours only through sorrow. We can say, “Blessed is night, for it reveals to us the stars.” In the same way we can say, “Blessed is sorrow, for it reveals God’s comfort.” The floods washed away home and mill, – all the poor man had in the world. But as he stood on the scene of his loss, after the water had subsided, broken hearted and discourage, he saw something shining in the bank which the waters had washed bare. “It looks like gold,” he said. It was gold. The flood which had beggared him made him rich. So it is ofttimes in life. Sorrow strips off loved possessions, but reveals the treasures of the love of God. We are sure, at least, that every sorrow that comes brings to us a gift from God, a blessing which may be ours if we will accept it. Sorrow should always be treated hospitably and reverently, as a messenger from heaven. It comes not as an enemy, but as a friend. We may reject it, just as we may reject any other messenger from God, and miss the blessing. But if we welcome it in Christ’s name, it will leave in heart and home a gift of love.
Clouds gather in the sky with ominous threatening. But they pass, and leave their rich treasure of rain. Then the flowers are more fragrant, the grass is greener, and all living things are lovelier. Sorrow comes. There is agony in the heart. There is crape on the door. There is a new grave in God’s acre. But all hearts are softer. Love is tenderer. Prayers are more fervent. There is more of heaven in the household life. The cloud has left its treasures of rain. “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”
“I heard an old farmer talk one day,
Telling his listeners how,
In the wide, new country far away,
The rainfall follows the plough.
“‘As fast as they break it up, you see,
And turn the heart to the sun,
As they open the furrows deep and free,
And the tillage is begun;
“The earth grows mellow, and more and more
It holds and sends to the sky
A moisture it never had before
When its face was hard and dry.
“And so, whenever the ploughshares run,
The clouds run overhead;
And the soil that works and lets in the sun,
With water is always fed.’
“I wonder if that old farmer knew
The half of his simple word,
Or guessed the message that heavenly true
Within it was hidden and heard?
“It fell on my ear by chance that day,
But the gladness lingers now,
To think it is always God’s dear way
That the rainfall follows the plough.”
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