The record-union., 1898-11-22

i
future, and are quite certain there is
a lion in the way. When we come
up to it we find it is nothing but a
dead dog. We are always imagining
some trouble. And of all troubles
the imaginary are the most frightful
and painful. It is true a thousand
times over that our worst misfortunes
are those that never befall US.
There's many a trouble
| Would break like bubble,
| And into the waters of Lethe depart,
| Did not we rehearse 1t
And tenderly nurse it
| And give it a permanent place in the
heart.
There's many sorrow
-. Would vanish tomorrow
Were We not unwilling to furnish the
wings.
But sadly intruding
And quietly brooding
| lI matches out all sorts of horrible things.
Many man and woman would be
conspicuously happy if they would
only refuse to burden themselves with
| anxious thought concerning the fu-
ture. 1t is what may be that fur
rows the brow and saddens the song.
Here is a little poem / got hold of
somewhere. 1t helped me; it may
help you:
Lord for tomorrow and its needs I do
not pray,
Keep me, my God, from stains of sin just
Let me both diligently work and duly
pray.
Let me me be kind in word and deed, just
And if to-day my life should ebb away
dlve me thy sacraments divine, dear
So for tomorrow and it's needs, I do not
pray,
But keep me, guide me. love me, Lord,
just for to-day.
But you say there may be trouble
in the future. OF course there may
be; there will be. But let us not fret
over 1T before we come to it. God is
| more far-seeing than we are, and He
has made provisions for every trial
that awaits US. We are coming to
the river. and we cannot see the
bridge. No; we cannot see it now,
but when we get to the rivers edge
we will find the bridge or ferry ready
and waiting to carry us over. If there
is no bridge the waters will divide as
of old, and we will go over dry shod.
You remember that first Easter
morning when the women came early
to the sepulcher to embalm the body
of Jesus. On the way they said among
| themselves. who shall roll us away
the stone from the door of the sepul-
cher?" This was their anxiety on the
way to the tomb. When they reached
the sepulcher they found the stone
was rolled away My brother, my
sister, as you go on in the path or
| love and duty, one by one you will
| find the stones Of difficulty will be
| rolled away God has made provis-
| To I,oe y, "
days so shall they strength be.
| Strength for to-day is all that we need,
AS there will never be tomorrow;
For tomorrow will prove but another
to-day
| With it's measure of joy and sorrow.
| Then why forecast thd trials of life
| With such sad and grave persistence,
And wait and watch for crowd of ills,
| That as yet have no existence.
There are men and women who fret
and moan at the thought of death.
With solemn, sepulchral tones they will
| inform you that they have not dying
grace. Of course not, but they may
have what is better, living grace. I
heard a big brawny man stand up in
a prayer meeting and pray for dying
grace. The thing struck so ridiculously
that I almost laughed outright. God
does not give dying grace until we
we will die gracefully. When the time
comes we will lie down to die as gladly
as tired men lie down at night for rest
and sleep after a hard days work.
When Horace Bushnell lay a-dying,
they asked him how he felt about it.
He answered. II can hardly tell, but
as for this dying about which we have
always been so much exercised, / have
70 ;pI icy1'f in IL
1t is very like going into another
room'
If you undertake to SEPARATE leaf
from the tree in the early spring, you
will need to jerk and wrench it, IN
the autumn when the leaf has done its
work. it drops from the stem without a
struggle and lovingly falls into the lap
of mother earth, that waits to welcome
it. When you and I have done our
days work in this world, and the bells
of heaven ring for us, we will answer
the call as gladly as school boys leave
their books for vacation, rest and home.
A man who loved life and service with
all his heart. said near it's close, II
have desire to depart and be with
Christ"
Lowell in one of his poems speaks
of the deep religion of a thankful
heart The phrase itself is a sermon.
Blessed is the man who has the deep
religion of thankful heart. If we
looked on life Alright, we would be as
thankful for what we have not, as for
what we have. We talk glibly about
the inequalities of life We compare
our lot with others and conclude that
God has been partial in the bestow-
ments of His gifts. He has favored
others and sighted US. We fret be-
cause others are more prosperous than
we are. We fail to recognize the COM
pensations of life. A close study will
show that the blessings Of life are more
evenly distributed than we are willing
to admit. Many a poor man has a
wife as loving, children as healthy, a
home as happy as the richest man on
the street. Love is found in the cot
tage as often as in the palace. I do
not envy the rich man his wealth.