One day a poor leper came to Dr. Pauline Root’s dispensary, in
Madura, India, with a small, dirty cloth about his waist. He
begged a new garment. It was given and was the cause of great
delight. Two weeks later he appeared again, making the same
request. Dr. Root asked him, “Where is the cloth I gave you?” “I
have it,” the old man replied, “but I am old, and will not live
long, and some morning it is probable that the people in passing
by my little mud hut to the river will look in and see me lying
there dead. When I go into God’s presence I want to be nice. All
day long I go about for my food and I am very dirty and very
tired, but when I go home I wash myself and I have kept that
beautiful long piece of cloth to wrap myself in when I lie down.
I commit myself to God thinking that perhaps the next morning I
shall have gone into His presence.” (Text.)
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* * * * *
Beneath the shadow of the Great Protection,
The soul sits, hushed and calm.
Bathed in the peace of that divine affection,
No fever-heats of life or dull dejection
Can work the spirit harm.
Diviner heavens above
Look down on it in love.
And, as the varying winds move where they will,
In whispers soft, through trackless fields of air,
So comes the Spirit’s breath, serene and still,
Its tender messages of love to bear,
From men of every race and speech and zone,
Making the whole world one,
Till every sword shall to a sickle bend,
And the long, weary strifes of earth shall end.
--JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.
(2487)
* * * * *
This metrical prayer is from the New York _Christian Advocate_:
Stay with me, Lord; the evening sun declineth,
And I am weary of this rugged way.
To find repose my fainting spirit pineth--
O Lord, be Thou my comfort and my stay!
Tremble my steps with age, my hair is gray,
And earth-born hopes allure me now no more.
But Thou, my Savior, cast me not away.
O lead me gently till, my journey o’er,
I reach my Father’s house, safe sheltered evermore.
Stay with me, Lord; even now to the dark valley
My step descendeth, and the chilling gloom
Is gathering o’er my pathway deep and dreary--
Dread shadows of the ay mysterious tomb.
Now may Thy lamp this fearful vale illume;
Its light alone these terrors can dispel.
Where Thou, my Lord, art guide, no ill can come.
Thou mighty Conqueror of death and hell,
To Thee I trust my soul and know that all is well.
(2488)
What may be round the next headland we know not; but this we
know, that the same sunshine will make a broadening path across
the waters right to where we rock on the unknown sea, and the
same unmoving mighty star will burn for our guidance. So we
may let the waves and currents roll as they list, or rather as
He wills, and be little concerned about the incidents or the
companions of our voyage, since He is with us.--ALEXANDER
MCLAREN.
(2489)
See PERSEVERANCE.