Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that you would bless me indeed, and enlarge my border, and that your hand might be with me, and that you would keep me from evil, that it not be to my sorrow! God granted him that which he requested.
Some of you, dear friends, do not possess the great treasure of health. Wearisome days and nights are appointed you. Your bones have become like an almanac, in which you note the changes of the weather. There is much about you that excites pity. But I pray that you may have the true blessing, and I know what that is. I can thoroughly sympathize with a sister that said to me the other day, “I had such nearness to God when I was sick, such full assurance, and such joy in the Lord, and I regret to say I have lost it now. I could almost wish to be sick again, if thereby I might have a renewal of communion with God.” I have oftentimes looked gratefully back to my sick bed. I am certain that I never grew in grace one half as much anywhere as I have on the bed of pain. It ought not to be so. Our joyous mercies ought to cause our spirits to thrive; but often times our griefs are more helpful than our joys. The pruning knife is better for some of us. Whatever you have to suffer, be it weakness, stiffness, pain, or anguish, may it come with divine presence, that this light and momentary trouble achieve for you an eternal glory, and thus you would be truly blessed.
