The Recompense of Trust
‘This is the rest li’hcrnvHh yc may cause the zueary io rest, and this is the refreshing’’’’ —
“flonc tijat trust in ?i:jim sljall k tirsolatr.”
PS. XXxiv. 22.
of (ITrust.
‘■’■ Jiidcca Cap/a,’” are the words engraved
on the well-known Roman coin, upon
which impersonated captive Judah is
sitting under the fronds of a desolate palm-tree.
Beneath the shadow of the Divine Heavenly Palm, the afflicted Christian can mingle his pensive sadness with the joyous strain, “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust” (Ps. xci. i, 2).
“Trust God.” It is easy for us to do so in sunshine. It is easy to follow our Leader, as Israel did the pillar-cloud, when a glorious pathway was opened up for them through the tongue of the Red Sea; or when at Elim they pitched under tapering palm and by gushing fountain; or when heaven rained down bread on the hungry camp. But it is not so easy to follow when earthly palms wither and fountains fail, and the pillar ceases to guide, and all outward and visible supports are withdrawn. Then, however, is the time for faith to rise to the ascendant. When the world is loud with its atheist sneer, — What of religious supports now? THEN is the time to manifest a simple childlike confidence; and, amid baffling dispensations and frowning providences to exclaim,” Though He slay me, yet will I trust itt Him.’’’’
Child of Sickness! bound down for years on a lonely pillow — the night-lamp thy companion — disease wasting thy cheeks and furrowing thy brow, weary days and nights appointed thee; tell me, where is the God in whom thou trustest? He is here, is the reply. His presence takes loneliness from my chamber, and sadness from my countenance. His promises are a pillow for my aching head, they point me onwards to that better land where the inhabitant shall no more say, “I am sick!”
Child of Poverty! where is the God whom thou trustest? Can He visit this rude dwelling? Can His promises be hung on these broken rafters? Can the light of His Word illumine that cheerless hearth and sustain that bent figure, shivering over the smouldering ashes? Yes! He is here. The lips of truth that uttered the beatitude, “Blessed be ye poor,” have not spoken in vain. Bound down by chill penury, forsaken and forgotten in old age, no footstep of mercy heard on my threshold, no lip of man to drop the kindly word, no hand of succour to replenish the empty cupboard; that God above has not deserted me. He has led me to seek and lay up my treasure in a home where want cannot enter, and where the beggar’s hovel is transformed into the kingly mansion!
Bereaved Ofie I where is the God whom thou trustest? Where is the Arm of Omnipotence thou wert wont to lean upon? Has He forgotten to be gracious? Has He mocked thy prayers by trampling in the dust thy dearest and best, and left thee to pine and agonise in the bitterness of thy desolate heart and home? Nay, He is here! He has swept down my fond idols, but it was in order that He Himself might occupy the vacant place. I knew Him too well to question the faithfulness of His word and the fidelity of His dealings. I have never known what a God He was, till this hour of bitter trial overtook me! There was a “need be” in every tear, every deathbed, every grave!
Dying One! the closing moments are at hand; the world is receding, the herald symptoms of approaching dissolution are gathering fast round thy pillow, the soul is pluming its wings for the immortal flight! Ere memory begins to fade and the mind becomes a waste; ere the names of friends when mentioned will only be answered by a dull vacant look, and then the hush of awful silence; tell me, ere the last lingering ray of consciousness and thought has vanished, where is the God whom thou trustest? He is here! I feel the everlasting arms underneath and round about me. Heart and flesh are failing. The mists of death are dimming my eyes to the things below, but they are opening on the magnificent vistas of eternity. He who has for long been the object of faith’s reliance, will soon be revealed in full vision and fruition. “Behold God is my salvation, I will trust and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song: He also is become my salvation.”
“Still let me be with Thee, Father, and ever be Thou with me: When the clouds and tempests gather, oh, then, let me trust in Thee. Let me hide in Thy quiet shadow, let me dwell in Thy secret shrine, The home of the souls that love Thee, the souls that Thou callest Thine!”
And if any who trace these pages feel themselves still strangers to such simple confiding trust; their inward disquieting thought, ‘How can we possibly live out these desert privations: that simoom by day, these drenching dews by night? Where can we get food in these dreary leagues of arid sand, or find pahir-shade and brook amid these barren rocks and waterless channels? ‘The message to all such is that addressed of old to the desponding Prophet, who had deserted the palm-tree of Israel and Israel’s God for the juniper tree of the desert, “Arise!” God will provide strength for the journey. “Why liest thou on thy face?” said the Divine voice to Moses, when he crouched a sceptic at God’s feet, pointing to the barrier mountains behind and the raging sea in front — “Speak to the children of Israel, that they go forward!” — ‘Up, do My bidding; and thou shalt see how I can make My way in the sea, and My path in the mighty waters.’ “Forward!” said the rebuked hero, clasping the rod of faith which had been lying forgotten at his side, and rising in the might of Jehovah. Forward they did go; and what was their confession and anthem on the opposite shore? — “Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power; Thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy.” “At Thy rebuke, O God of Jacob, both the chariot and horse are cast into a dead sleep.” “O Lord God of hosts, who is a strong God like unto Thee? Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise. Thou stillest them!”
“If thou couldst trust, poor soul,
In Him who rules the whole,
Thou wouldest find peace and rest;
^Visdom and sight are well, but trust is best.”
“said I NOT UNTO THEE, THAT, IF THOU WOULDEST BELIEVE, TIIOU SHOULDEST SEE THE GLORY OF GOD.”