“I asked for strength; for with the noontide heat
I fainted, while the reaper, singing sweet,
Went forward with ripe sheaves I could not bear.
Then came the Master, with his blood stained feet,
And lifted me with sympathetic care.
Then on his arm I leaned till all was done
And I stood with the rest at set of sun,
My task complete.”
There is a duty of being strong. Strength is not a mere happy gift that falls to the lot of certain favored person, while others are doomed for weakness. Never is weakness a duty. Over and over again in the Scriptures are men urged to be strong, but they are never urged to be weak. Weakness is never set down among the virtues, the beautiful things, the noble qualities of life. Everywhere are we urged to be strong. At the same time, no fact is oftener reiterated than that of human weakness. We belong to an imperfect family. We tire easily. We faint under burdens. We are overcome by our sorrow. Life’s struggles are too hard for us. We are bruised reeds, – not weak only, but crushed and wounded in our life.
Yet, while these painful facts are kept before us continually, a divine voice is ever heard sounding like a trumpet over the fields of battle and defeat, calling us to be strong. Strength is the ideal of a noble life. Victoriousness is the characteristic of a life of faith. Indeed, the only hope of blessedness is through overcoming. Heaven’s heights lie beyond the plains of earthly struggle, and can be reached only by him who is strong and who overcometh.
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