Sunday, February 18, 2018

The poor and anxious, plod their dreary ways...

       "Poor, anxious, over thoughtful man ! He plods his dreary way - bowed down with earthly care - borrowing sorrow from the days to come - forgetful of the Heavenly Provider.
       Sweet flowers! Do you breathe of hope to his dim faith - whisper to his sinking heart of Him who
so clothes the grass of the fields from day to day. Wherefore taketh he thought for the morrow? His Father knoweth his need. He will provide out of His own rich fullness. He will lift the shadow of care that smothers him like a pall. Oh! that he would but consider the Lilies!
       Has all pleasure faded out of your life? Do the clouds of disappointment shroud your sky? It is  better for you to die than to live, think you? Nay - consider the Lilies, with which God so clothes the grass of the fields. Life is not all a barren waste. Ah! through blinding tears, you can see no loveliness; but it is there - all around you still. Let your gracious Father wipe the tears away, that you may see clearly. He waits to be gracious - to do all you need - to comfort you, exceeding abundantly above all you can ask or think, for His own good pleasure. He giveth not according to desert; He measureth not His gifts by desire; out of His own rich fullness in Christ the Lord, He bestoweth to the full measure of the need, heaped up and running over - He giveth without measure, to the sons of His love in Jesus. If His face be hid for a moment, His kindness is everlasting. Ah! would you but consider the Lilies, and turn to Him for comfort and consolation!" A. Buchanan.



 "Consider the lilies...

Our Burial Places Sacred.
       How we linger around the cold remains of a friend till absolutely driven from it! How we care for it, as for some precious gem not always to be trodden in the dust! How reverently we commit it to the keeping of its mother earth; bidding it good night as if in attendance on the councils of royalty!
       How sacred is the spot where he lies! How often do we retire not alone to weep but to hold sweet communion with the departed, and say, "We shall meet again." - Rev. McClelland, D. D.

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