The Hushed Tempest

The following circumstance is communicated to The Christian by a minister of the editor’s acquaintance, as a memorial of God’s care for the poor and needy who trust in him:

It was about the year 1853, and near the middle of a Canadian Winter, we had a succession of snowfalls, followed by high winds and severe cold. I was getting ready to haul my Winter’s stock of wood, for which I had to go two miles over a road running north and south, entirely unprotected from the keen cold west winds that prevail the most of the time in that part of Canada during the Winter months.

The procuring of my Winter’s supply of wood was no small task for me, for I had very little to do with, and was unable to endure much fatigue, or bear the severe cold. I had, however, succeeded in securing the services of an. excellent hand to chop, and help me load, and had also engaged a horse of one neighbor, and a horse and sled of another, and was ready on Monday morning to commence my job. Monday morning the roads were fair, the day promised well, and my man was off at daybreak to the woods to have a load ready for me. There had been quite a fall of snow during the night not enough to do any harm if it only lay still, but should the wind rise, as it had after every snow-fall before, it would make it dreadful for me. Soon as possible I harnessed my team, and started. I had not gone a quarter of a mile before it became painfully evident that a repetition of our previous “blows” was impending. The sky was dark and stormy, the wind rose rapidly, and in every direction clouds of the newly fallen snow were beginning to ride on the “wings of the wind,” pouring over the fences, and filling thf road full! My heart sank within me. What could I do? At this rate, by next morning the roads would be impassable, and it was so cold! Besides, if I failed to go on now, it would be very difficult to get my borrowed team together again, and impossible to get my man again; and we could as well live without bread as without wood in a Canadian Winter.

Every moment the wind increased. In deep distress, I looked upon the threatening elements, exclaiming over and over, “What shall I do?” I felt then that there was but one thing that I could do, and that was just what poor sinking Peter did; and with feelin-gs I imagine something like his, I looked up to God, and cried out, “0, my God, this is more than I am able to bear. Lord, help me! The elements are subject to thee; thou boldest the winds in thy fist. If thou wilt speak the word, there will l)e a great calm. 0, for Jesus’ sake, and for the sake of my little helpless family, let this snow lie still and give me an opportunity of accomplishing this necessary labor comfortably!” I do not think it was above fifteen minutes after I began to call upon the Lord before there was a visible change. The wind began to subside, the sky grew calm, and in less than half an hour all was still, and a more pleasant time for wood-hauling than I had that day, I never saw nor desire to see. Many others beside me enjoyed the benefit of that “sudden change” of weather, but to them it was only a “nice spell of weather,” a “lucky thing;” while to me it was full of sweet and encouraging tokens of the “loving-kindness of the Loyd.” And now, after

SO many years, I feel impelled to give this imperfect narrative, to encourage others in the day of trouble to call upon the Lord; and also, as a tribute of gratitude to Him who has “never said to the house of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain.”