Year: 1866

invsriableness Of His laws; the ringing
! of the anvil, and of the artizan's hammer


and chisel, and all the sounds Of indus


try, are vocal deliverances of natural


causes, of which causes the first is God.


The earth lies baptized in the air, and


the air is filled with sounds from pole to


pole, and every sound is an enunciation


of the presence of God.


That most precious and lovely Being,


while still the most adorable and glorious,


Is thus in perpetual audible communica-


ton with His people. o, Thou whom my


soul loyeth, is it possible that every


sound hear is from Thee Thy voice


is sweet even when it speaks in thunder,
for it is the voice of my beloved. If


stand upon some storm-worn crag and


witness the furious tempest, and the
terrific bursts that make the very noun
tains tremble, still rejoice for if they


tremble it is only at the presence of the
Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the


whole earth, and the convulsing elements
are but uttering the voice of my beloved.


stand on ocean side and love to say,


30 Lord, Thou art my beloved p when
in its roar / hear the voice of my beloved


If, in some lonely glen lay me down on
messy bank, and am soothed to
sleep by the under-tones of nature, am
happy with my departing consciousness
that the voice Of my beloved is the lullaby
that brings my repose. When | awake,
| awake with joy, because it is the voice
of my beloved that has ended my slum-
Der. AS walk the lawn or the wood
and hear the signing of the gale, or the
wild music of the winged orchestra, my


heart bounds with gladness, for in all
these hear the voice Of my beloved.


The euphonies Of nature, if sweet in
themselves, are sweeter still when we re-


member that these are but the forms in
which God addresses US. The gentle
tones of the dear ones at home, full of
sympathy and love, a2d the ringing
laugh of my little ones are delightful to
hear, but all the more so when | remem-
Der that their voices are but the voice of
my beloved, and that He whom my soul
loveth, and who is my chief joy, speaks
to me through them.


1t is perpetual pain to be absent from
those we love. A message, even if it be
so long coming, brings sweet alienation
of chronic grief; but to hear the voice
brings rapture. Our God is not God
afar off; He is very nigh; He is in
speaking distance; He speaks to us in
every sound we hear-the low breath of
a sleeping babe is His whisper ef love
The blast of winter, if it tells us of the
sufferings of the homeless, tells US, also,
of the Distinguishing goodness that pro-
vides us with shelter and fire five be
exposed to its fury we still hear, in its
wild shrek or hollow moan, the voice of
Him who is our beloved, and who will be
sure to make all things work together for
good to othem that love Him. The sounds
that terrify others, but remind US that
we are in the hands of God, the very
being whom of all others we cherish and
love and adore, in whom we know we can
confde, and who we know loyes US as
much more than we love Him, as His !
infinite capacity for loving is greater |
than ours. Thus hearing Him in all that |
we hear, every sound becomes melodious
and the harshest jarring of discords is
softened and turned into harmony. Ever |
thus while awake, we can hold converse
with God; and 1t is sweet to remember
that He who made the ear, Himself can
hear, and that the voice Of prayer and |
praise is far more delightful to Him than
His many-toned voices are to us; that
while we, from our imperfecton, fail to
observe many of His tokens, He, in His
never loses the slightest
accent of ours; that if, in every sound
we hear, our hearts exclaim, The voice
of my beloved, He, too, when he hears
the low voice in the closet, or the joyous
exultations of the sanctuary, says, with
condescending benignity, The voice of
my beloved" and that He says of each
one of His saints, as every saint says of
Him, my beloved is mine and am
His. Can't ID l6-Christidn Inder