Christ in Sickness
Heist is with you — in sickness, There are some trials wln’ch in an especial manner bring Christ near to us. There is a secret in all sorrow, there is a deep one in this. To whom can the sufferer confide it? The disease, perhaps, perplexes the judgment or bafiies the skill of the physician. The nervous irritability, the cerebral sensitiveness, the extreme weakness, the acute agony which renders the concussion of the gentlest footfall too powerful for the frame, may be but little understood by the most considerate, tender watchers at your side. They, perhaps, but little know
(110) what heroic fortitude, what patient endurance of spirit lie concealed beneath all this uncomplaining suffering, what an incessant conflict is waging, and by what a superhuman struggle the mastery is obtained of the mind over the body, and of God’s grace over both. How difficult it is to suppress irritation, and how hard to express gratitude, when even the smile of love and the tear of compassion can awaken no responsive feeling, where all is pain, uneasiness, and despondency! But Christ is with you! You may not always be sensible of it. As the drapery of your bed and the deep shadows of your room may conceal from your view the nearness of a loved friend, so your physical infirmities may absorb all thought and consciousness but that of sufferins: and languor, depriving you of the sensible enjoyment of the Lord’s presence. Notwithstanding, He is at your side, watching you
112 CHEIST EYER WITH YOi:.
with sleej)le3s love, succouring with His own grace the spiritual depression of your soul, and mitigating with His own power the anguish of vour bodilj sufferings. Think of the human and tender considerateness of Christ I He knows your fi-ame, and remembers that you are dust, and exacts and expects not from you more than you are capable of experiencing. Blessed sickness! that leads the mind more fully into the conscious presence of Christ, that pillows the restless head upon His changeless love, that realizes the encircling of HIb arm of power beneath the sinking frame, that attunes the discordant will into sweeter and more perfect harmony with His, that gently moulds the soul to His own meek and patient spirit! Oh, holy lessons, precious truths, costly blessings learnt and experienced on a bed of sickness and of suffering! And were this the only one, the clinging, soothing, sustaining presence of Christ with the sick one He loves, it were enough.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
We will give one single example which illustrates the presence of Christ in sickness. We naight give many drawn from the scenes in hospital. The following is from a lady who has devoted all her energies and her very life in attending on suffering soldiers in Hospital:
I very cheerfully comply with your request to write to the children of the Sabbath school. I would thank them for the books and tracts I have received through their generosity. I take great pleasure in distributing ihese, since I know how they have been furnished. I think they are doing a good work in two ways: First, I think they may be very useful here among these soldiers who are much in need of all the good influences that may be- brought around them; and beside this, I think they are teaching the children at home to be unselfish, and to care kindly for the wants and interests of others. This alone I consider a great and good work, but 1 hope this may be the little seed that will grow into a great and beautiful tree, to bud and blossom, and bear fruit for themselves and others, thoughout their whole lives.
I would like to, relate some incidents which lately occurred here, showing what Christianity will do for a man.
On the 30th of last August, a great many wounded men were brought into Alexandria: so many that the hospitals were filled, and the wounded were lying crowded on the sidewalks about hospital doors. Among the rest was a Virginian, but a true hearted Union man. He was wounded very badly in the thigh, and suffered very much, so much so that he moaned and cried out continually. You will think every one felt sorry for him, but not so. All the other wounded men around him had just as much as they could do to bear their own pain, and they had no patience with this man who disturbed them night and day with his cries. They would frequently mock and make fun of him. T would sometimes ask them, for my sake, to forbear; and I would go to him, and try to comfort him, so that he should not feel that every one was against him.
But a better Comforter than. was there; God’s Holy Spirit was in his heart, and instead of feeling anger or annoyance at those who mocked him, he only prayed more earnestly that God would enable him to bear his pains with fortitude. This prayer was most surely answered, for he soon became one of the most patient and uncomplaining men in the whole hospital. A placid, gentle, submissive expression rested on his countenance, that was really most touching to behold. He never manifested the least unkindness towards those who made fun of him, but on the contrary, he was always anxious to share any delicacy he had with them, and would often ask me to send out and buy peaches and grapes for him “to give round to the boys,” as he called them. He was often deranged at night, and would sing and pray most of the night; but they all felt so kindly to him noWj that this did not disturb .them, and they spoke of him as kindly as if he had been a brother. When he knew there was no hope that he could live, I asked him whether he was willing to die, if it was God’s will he should not recover. He answered, “Yes,” with as pleasant and peaceful a smile as if I had asked him if he wanted to go home; and home I trust he has gone: to the dear heavenly home of his Father above, where His children shall ever rejoice in His love. After he died, I looked around to see if I could find any thing that I could send home to his sister, of whom he often spoke with great affection. I found a little book at the head of his bed that a kind Christian friend had given him. “Words of Jesus,” was the title. I almost cried for joy when I thought how glad that sister would be to get this book, that had been such a treasury of comfort to her poor afflicted brother in his last moments. I enclosed a lock of his hair in a letter, and sent the little book, hoping and praying that these words of Jesus might be very precious words to her, comforting and sustaining her.
A gentleman said he just came from Massachusetts, where he had gone at the request of a daughter, made when near heaven, that he would take her to her native place for burial. She died, said he, as we call it, a few days ago, in Philadelphia. Just before she died, she asked, “Father, is Jesus in the room?”
“Why do you ask, my daughter? I
inquired,” said the father.
“Because it seems to me He is here,” she replied.
“And you love Him?”
“Yes;” just whispered with a sweet smile beaming on her face; and in five minutes she was gone. I had not a doubt Jesus was in the room, and I delighted myself in staying in that room to which the blessed Saviour had come to take His lovino and rejoicing disciple home. It was a place of all on earth most blest,
“Quite on the verge of heaven.”