Formal creeds have little to say of the belief in the overruling care
of the All Father. Perhaps the belief is so nearly universal as to be
without the range of debate so dear to creed makers. Yet at all times,
in all lands, man, whether the savage, the oriental mystic, or the
cool-headed Christian, in various ways and with different phrases, has
recognized the hand that, from behind the scenes, touched his affairs
and often seemed to order his life. Whether it be the hand of force or
of friend, the fact has been felt.
True, the laziest man is apt to have the readiest sense of the
intention of Providence to care for him, to send him bread well
buttered; the foolish and thoughtless depend on heaven to do their
thinking, and many court bankruptcy while praying for solvency. But
the improvidence of man does not disprove the providence of God. So
far from encouraging sloth and recklessness this truth provokes to
progress by the assurance of the coöperation of infinite powers with
our best endeavours.
It is a thought we cannot escape; the all wise must be the all loving.
The spirit at the centre of all must embrace all within the circle of
his love; and that love will not lie quiescent, helpless when its
objects are in distress, in perplexity, or need, when it might succour,
save, or suggest the way of success. If there is a heart of love there
is a hand of help.
Yet it seems too great a thought. What are we but dust on the wheels
of the universe? Often do our fainting hearts question whether there
be any, outside our own little circle, who care whether we suffer,
whether we succeed. Can it be that the petty affairs of a life that
passes like the hoar frost before the morning sun can even interest,
still less call forth the aid, of the one in whom we all live and move
and have our being?
Despite all questionings men will ever go on praying to that one; they
will turn to an ear that hears, they will seek a heart that feels, and
look for hands reached out in hours of necessity. Experience indorses
their faith. Nearly all can look back and see where destiny has seemed
to breathe upon them; their old plans wilted, and new ones, and new
ways sprung up, bearing other and fairer flowers than they had ever
dreamed; a mighty, mysterious power had intervened.
What does it all mean? That we are but puppets in these strange unseen
hands; that we can neither will nor work for ourselves? No; it but
means what poets sang long ago when, seeking after that which far
transcends all thought and all imagery, they cried, "Surely Thou art
our Father." That which was best in them, the holy fire of fatherhood,
became a mirror in which they saw the infinite.
From the source of all life, humanity has learned the great lessons of
family care and provision. All that is good in our families is true of
this great family of all mankind. The great purpose of this family, as
of all families, is the development of the highest, fullest life in its
members. Fatherhood regards the provision of food, clothing, and
shelter but as incidental to the great purpose of training the children.
This is the purpose of the Father of us all, to develop the best in us.
When our weak hearts cry for ease, for rest, for pleasures, He sends
the task, the sorrow, the loss. When we think all life's lessons well
learned He sends us up to higher grades with harder tasks. Yet ever
over all is the pitying, compassionate yearning of a father's heart
that never forgets the weakness of the child.
Wisely the father's love seems to hide its working. Like all things
deep and sublime it passes comprehension; it may often seem like
indifference. All the child can do is to bend every effort to do his
best, to work out the father's plan so far as he knows it, to know,
through all, that God is good. Then, when the child grows to the man,
the man towards the divine, the things that seemed strange are made
plain in the light of the Father's face.