Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1905-04-29

OTuiiliiry, everyday Drain. Sne u
wife and a mother. But instead Of
staying mt home and looking after the
children and sharing her husbands
crows and cares she feels she must
e Joan of Arc or Frances Z. Will
lard or Jenny Lind. She is persuaded
she has talents. She has had visions In
reference to her true career" No one
can dissuade her from this idea. So
she runs around hither and thither and
absolutely fritters away her life In try
ing to he a cedar OF Lebanon when
God wanted her to be a wild flower.
Here Is a man who Is a good, ordi-
nary, everyday simple preacher. II he
would only be satisfied I'm the position
God had assigned him he would be
nightly blessed. But he wants to be
a cedar OF Lebanon. He wants to be
a Savonarola. a Thomas Chalmers or
a John Knox, or he hears some Of the
great evangelists of the world, and i'm
mediately he decides on going over in
to Macedonia to help the English, or
the Scotch. or the Welsh, or the Aus
tralians. And what is the result? He
ruins his life for good because he 10
not willing to be a simple wild flower
In Gods service.
Never Dcspise Humble Position.
Never despise your humble position
In life. because you are like the sim
pie wild flowers. When the second
advent comes and Jesus, as the Divine
Bridegroom, goes down among the
Easter lilies or the wild flowers the
Lord will not say unto the multitude
Of his children: Ibid you occupy a
great position in life? Were you a
noted general. or king, or statesman?
Like Hannah More. did you WELD a
brilliant pen? Like Nine. de Recamier.
did you have salon filed with the
leading thinkers OF your land" He
will say, however: did you nestle, as
a clover top. among the green grasses.
as commanded you? Did you tighten
the sickroom of some invalid when, at
my command, the messenger plucked
you? Did you breathe out your fra
GRANGE upon the coffin lid while the
minister uttered the committal. Ashes
to ashes, dust to dust? Did you make
the marriage altar sweeter and holier
when the young girl plucked you in the
fields and with your bright faces dec
GRATED the village church on the we'd
ding day? Did you carry the message
Of love between the angry brothers and
sisters and friends who had quarreled?
made you wild flowers. loved you
because you were wild flowers. As
Easter lilies. did you love and honor
meY
Another Easter lesson. After we
have done our best, then. like the wild
flowers. let us trust God that he will
do what is best for us. After we have
done our best we have no more right to
worry about our future than the wild
flowers have to worry where they are
going to get a drink or from what
quarter their daily meals are to come
or where they are to find their sunshine
or their nights In which to sleep. l find
this figure because at times 1t seems to
me that flowers. after all, are not mere
inanimate objects. but have a certain
intelligence of their own. They seem
to me at times to be almost hu.nan in
their desires.
Suppose Flowers Could Speak.
Let us imagine for a moment that
the wild flowers can speak. What
would you think Of a rose which two or
three times in night should wake up.
open its petals and begin to cry. say
ing: ''Oh. 1t is so dark! cannot see I
wonder If l will ever have the sun
beams again kiss my cheek and make
me blush" Oh, no. That is not the
roses way. The rose says to herself
when she hears the angelus tolling In
the village: Now 1t Is time for me to
say good night and go to sleep. have
done a useful days work. have made
honey for a dozen bees. l have made
the tired, sick mother, riding by in her
carriage, clap her hands for joy and
say, oh, what a beautiful rosev I
have been drawn In the picture Of
Paul de Longpre. l have we'll earned
my rest. God will awake me in the
morning. He will send to me the sun
shine In his own good time. will now
say my prayers and go to sleep and
trust him."
What would you think IL all the wild
flowers on the Jerusalem hills on the
morning Of the blacklist of all Black
Fridays in the worlds history began
to weep and to cry and to beg. Sup
posing that we should hear them begin
to moan: What is the matter? What
Is the matter? Why is that great
crowd surging forth from yonder gates
to crush us and trample our petals in
the dust? Why Is this darkness over
the whole earth? 1t Is not yet night
Is the end Of the world at hand? o
God. why are those rocks swaying IN
derneath us rs cradle would rock
under a mothers touch? Why this aw-
full light in the garden on this early
Easter NORM" II ever there was
time when flowers could open their
lips and speak 1t must have been then
when their Maker suffered. But not
with such words would they have bro
ken their silence. I can imagine their
greeting as the Saviour stepDed among