Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Evening, November 19
"O that I knew where I might find him!"
In Job's uttermost extremity he cried after the Lord. The longing
desire of an afflicted child of God is once more to see his Father's
face. His first prayer is not "O that I might be healed of the disease
which now festers in every part of my body!" nor even "O that I might
see my children restored from the jaws of the grave, and my property
once more brought from the hand of the spoiler!" but the first and
uppermost cry is, "O that I knew where I might find Him, who is my God!
that I might come even to his seat!" God's children run home when the
storm comes on. It is the heaven-born instinct of a gracious soul to
seek shelter from all ills beneath the wings of Jehovah. "He that hath
made his refuge God," might serve as the title of a true believer. A
hypocrite, when afflicted by God, resents the infliction, and, like a
slave, would run from the Master who has scourged him; but not so the
true heir of heaven, he kisses the hand which smote him, and seeks
shelter from the rod in the bosom of the God who frowned upon him.
Job's desire to commune with God was intensified by the failure of all
other sources of consolation. The patriarch turned away from his sorry
friends, and looked up to the celestial throne, just as a traveller
turns from his empty skin bottle, and betakes himself with all speed to
the well. He bids farewell to earth-born hopes, and cries, "O that I
knew where I might find my God!" Nothing teaches us so much the
preciousness of the Creator, as when we learn the emptiness of all
besides. Turning away with bitter scorn from earth's hives, where we
find no honey, but many sharp stings, we rejoice in him whose faithful
word is sweeter than honey or the honeycomb. In every trouble we should
first seek to realize God's presence with us. Only let us enjoy his
smile, and we can bear our daily cross with a willing heart for his
Monday, November 21, 2011
Heavenly father! To Whose eye
Future things unfolded lie;
Through the desert where I stray,
Let Thy counsels guide my way.
Lead me not, for flesh is frail,
Where the fiercest trials assail;
Leave me not, in darkened hour,
To withstand the tempter's power.
Lord, uphold me day by day;
Shed a light upon my way;
Guide me through perplexing snares;
Care for me in all my cares.
Should Thy wisdom, Lord, decree
Trials long and sharp for me,
Pain or sorrow, care or shame,
Father, glorify Thy name.
Let me neither faint nor fear,
Knowing still that Thou art near;
In the course my Saviour trod,
Travelling home to Thee, my God!
Dear Holy Spirit, who can know
The Comforter Thou art,
Till they have felt deep need of Thee
From out a broken heart.
Ten thousand griefs, dear Lord, have swept
Across this heart of mine,
But every one has pushed me out
Still deeper into Thine.
I know Thou workest for my good,
The soul's unfathomed pains,
The deep, dark dungeon's doleful cries
Thou turn'st to mellow strains.
Thou art far sweeter than Thy gifts,
Though they surpass all thought;
And yet Thy presence in my breast
With precious blood was bought.
O Comforter! it is Thyself
Who shows the blood to me,
And in my mind revealest Christ
Like an effulgent sea.
No creature in this world can know
The way Thou leadest me,
Through storms and pangs and lonely griefs,
From self out into Thee.
Dear, peaceful Spirit, Thou hast borne
My sad heart far away
Into a gulf of tender love,
Which melts it day by day.
Blest Holy Ghost, to me
Thou art A boundless crystal sea,
And I can lose all loneliness
When all alone with Thee.
I have no wish in all the world
But to be filled with Thee,
And drink my being full of love
From Thine immensity.