The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-08-05
A Tonic for the Tired.

Watch the faces as they 60 by you on
crowded street, and just notice what
tired look many of them wear. If we
could read all the hearts around us, we
would find multitudes who are weary in
spirit and sometimes sigh for pillow
in the grave. Some are tired out with
life's hard struggles, with bearing the
heat and burthen of the day. Others
persist in piling up anXieties as high as
an old-fashioned peddlers pack. They
carry huge load of care as to how they
shall make both ends meet, and how
they shall "foot the bills " that ac-
cumulate, and how they shall provide
for all the hungry mouths and scanty
wardrobes One is tired from trying to
do too much, and another of waiting for
something to do. A grievous burden
Smallfaith's heart ache and puts an
extra wrinkle into Sister Weakback's
countenance. Here is disciple who is
tired of waiting for success, and there is
another of waiting for answers to prayer.
Do you suppose that the dear Master
does not see all these tired bodies and
exhausted nerves and weary hearts?
To those who are honestly run down
with honest toll he says, "Come We
apart into a quiet place, and rest
awhile" God puts night of sleep
after every day of work for this very
purpose of recruiting lost force. TO
Christians with small purses he kindly
says, " Your life consistent not in the
abundance of things we possess. 1
counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in
the fire, that thou mayest be rich. My
grace is sufficient for thee; at my right
hand are treasures forevermore. There
is not really money enough in this land
to give everybody fortune; but there
are promises enough in the Bible and
grace enough in Christ Jesus to make
everybody rich to all eternity. Just
think what a millionaire a man is who
has clean conscience here and
clear hope of heaven hereafter. To
poor Brother Smallfaith and sorrowful
Mrs. Weakback he gives a wonderful
lift in these words, " Lo! | am with you
Away. No man shall pluck you out
of my hands. 1t is my Fathers good
pleasure to give you the kingdom"
If we had the sense and
the grace to drop all superfuous ankle
ties, and pitch off all sinful desires, and
heave overheard all worry, Christ would
give us strength enough to carry every
legitimate load in life. What precious
word for the weary in this, -" Cast your
care on him, for he careth for YOU" 1
need hardly inform intelligent Bible
readers that this verse literally reads,
g For he has you on his heart" He
who piloted the patriarch through the
deluge, and fed the prophet by the
brook, and supplied the widows cruise,
and watched over the imprisoned apos-
tie, and numbers every hair of our
heads, he has every one of us on his
great, almighty loving heart! What
| fools we are to tire ourselves out and
break ourselves down while such an
All-powerful Helper is close by our side.
Suppose that weary traveller who is
trudging uphill on one of these hot
July days were overtaken by a wagon,
whose owner kindly said to him, My
friend, you look tired; throw that KNAPP
sack into my wagon; it will rest you,
and | will see that it is safe" Imagine
the foolish pedestrian cycling him sus-
piciously, and hurting out the churlish
reply, 81 can't trust you, sir; drive
along; I'll carry my own luggageW
| Dul lnlS Is just tHe way thdl tchS VI
thousands of Christians treat God.
When our Divine Master says to us
90 Cast your care on me-" he does not
release us from legitimate duty, or the
Joy of doing it. He aims to take the
needless tire out of us by taking sinful
anxiety out of our hearts and putting
the tonic of trust into its place. This
glorious doctrine of trust is wonder
fully restful one to the overloaded. For
let us remind ourselves again that it is
not honest work that usually breaks
Gods children down. Work strength
ems sinew, promotes appetite and in
duces wholesome sleep. The ague fit
of worry consumes strength, disorders
the nerves and banishes sweet, re-
freshing slumber. A life consecrated
to Christ, that oils all its joints with
cheerful faith and tones its blood with
the iron of the promises, never grows
pale in the cheek or crippled in its
gait.-Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D., IN