On the Tree and in the Still

‘’ The rose is not so sweet on the tree as in the Yes, Mr. Manton, it is just as sweet, but it does not so fully pour forth its perfume. Thanks to the fire, the fragrance cannot lie latent when the leaves are distilled. Thus is it with the believini soul under adversity, the heart then yields up to God the sweetness which else had lain dormant.

Some of us owe more than we can tell to what Manton calls the still.” The furnace, the anvil, and the hammer have been the making of our lives under the guiding wisdom of the great Worker’s hand. We cannot enjoy the process while we undergo; but the results are such that we are ready to fall in love with suffering. O rose, were it not for the still, thine essence had not made fragrant the robes of queens; but now art thou in king’s palaces, and a drop of thy soul’s inmost ichor is of more worth than gold. Even so, we had never been so near our Lord, the Prince Immanuel, had we not, after our measure, been made to drink of his cup, and to be baptized with his baptism.

We bless thee, O Lord, for all that thou doest, whether thou load us with favour till we are as flowers gemmed with dew, or pluck away our beauty, and sever us from our delights till we are as roses cut off and cast into the still. All that thou doest is good, and for all thou shalt be extolled.