We all like comfort. But what kind of comfort do we not merely like but
need? Merely to be comfortable?--To be free from pain, anxiety, sorrow?-
-To have only pleasant faces round us, and pleasant things said to us?
If we want that comfort, we shall very seldom have it. It will be very
seldom good for us to have it. The comfort which poor human beings want
in such a world as this, is not the comfort of ease, but the comfort of
strength. The comforter whom we need is not one who will merely say kind
things, but give help--help to the weary and heavy laden heart which has
no time to rest. We need not the sunny and smiling face, but the strong
and helping arm. For we may be in that state that smiles are shocking to
us, and mere kindness,--though we may be grateful for it--of no more
comfort to us than sweet music to a drowning man. We may be miserable,
and unable to help being miserable, and unwilling to help it too. We do
not wish to flee from our sorrow, we do not wish to forget our sorrow.
We dare not; it is so awful, so heartrending, so plain spoken, that God,
the master and tutor of our hearts must wish us to face it and endure it.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178