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! LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

 
 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND: 
 
 t 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR LONELY HOURS. 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 ROSE PORTER, 
 
 Author of "Our Saints" " Charity, Szueet Charity" etc. 
 
 /$ 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 
 
 900 Broadway, cor. 20th Street. 
 
 4 
 

 4^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1882, BY 
 ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY. 
 
 EDWARD O. JENKINS, ROBERT RUTTER, 
 
 Printer and Stereotyper, Binder, 
 
 20 North William St. 116 and 118 East 14th Street. 
 
**f 
 
 fO 
 
 Or 
 
 5C 
 
 TO MY FRIEND, 
 
 C. T. C, 
 
 WHOSE LIFE-WORK IS TO POINT TO HIM 
 
 FORGIVETH ALL OUR INIQUITIES, AND HEALETH ALL OUR 
 DISEASES. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ^> 
 
 te 
 
 K 
 
 Invalids' Work, . 
 
 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 A Reminiscence, . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 Daily Things, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 31 
 
 Pictures, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 Gospel Pictures, . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 Sunday Difficulties, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 63 
 
 Ministry of Flowers, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 73 
 
 Heart to Heart, 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 83 
 
 Pleasures, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 93 
 
 Invalids' Pillows, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . IOI 
 
 (5) 
 
"**i 
 
 " So long as we can serve God by activity, let us do so ; 
 when the time comes for manifesting Him in weakness or 
 pain by the life of cheerful, dutiful, uncomplaining son- 
 ship, let us do so. 
 
 " Patience is harder than diligence, — to sit still than to 
 
 be moving. Yet the sick-room is often more powerful 
 
 in its testimony of a faithful God, than a pulpit that sounds 
 forth in sonorous eloquence the message of the Gospel. 
 
 " How to use life we can all understand and do. How 
 to meet death, calmly and meekly, is a lesson only to be 
 learnt in one way." 
 
 — " The Gospel of Christ " (Thorold). 
 
 " Tis by comparison an easy task 
 Earth to despise ; but to converse with Heaven — 
 This is not easy." 
 
 Yet, 
 
 " Know, .... 
 
 Who worship God shall find Him." 
 
 (7) 
 

 
 INVALIDS' WORK. 
 
 " Repine not at your daily lot ; but regard all your labor 
 solely as a symbol." 
 
 " The spirit of work is much easier to obtain than sub- 
 mission. It is much easier to say, ' Lord, I will do/ than 
 to say, ' Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do ? '" 
 
 Remember, 
 
 " Each man to think himself an act of God, 
 His mind a thought, his life a breath of God ; 
 And bid each try, by great thoughts and good deeds, 
 To show the most of Heaven he hath in him." 
 
 (9) 
 

 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 INVALIDS' WORK. 
 
 Invalids' work ? — Yes, it is the very thing I want 
 to speak to you about, for I have learned that there 
 is as truly work to be accomplished by invalids as 
 there are tasks to be done by the strong and active. 
 
 And while I know one can not gather and pass 
 comfort on to others, as one passes flowers on, yet a 
 thought or two that has come to me on this subject 
 seems to meet the sigh sounding in your words : 
 
 "There is nothing I can do." 
 
 Words to which I reply, Yes, there is much you 
 can do, weak though you may be, worn by pain, and 
 tired with that utter weariness that lays hold, not 
 only of the body, but of the mind and spirit ; that 
 peculiar languor which belongs to great physical 
 debility. 
 
 The first stepping-stone to this work of which I 
 
12 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAXD. 
 
 tell, I think you will find in the letting go of 
 many a cherished idea of what Christian work 
 means. 
 
 For in our thoughts of sen-ice we are so wont to 
 dwell "on doing, rather than being, and becoming." 
 
 So wont to forget that " God's will must be 
 wrought in us, as well as by us." 
 
 You remember those words of Paul's to the 
 Hebrews : " Xow no chastening for the present 
 seemeth to be joyous, but grievous, nevertheless 
 afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of right- 
 eousness to them which are exercised thereby." 
 
 Ponder well those words, " to them that are exer- 
 cised thereby " — for " there is something very signifi- 
 cant in the use of that word exercised." 
 
 Just here I turn from my own interpretation of an 
 invalid's service, to copy for you a page of extracts 
 from a book that lies open before me, and where I 
 find thoughts on being, by illness, as we are apt to 
 think, ''shut out from work for the Lord." 
 
 "Sometimes God puts a space between us and our 
 eager activity that we may estimate it truly." 
 
 " What we might have done suffers nothing from 
 our helplessness ; what we may be might suffer sorely 
 without it." 
 
 "And perhaps we do not enough remember that 
 
INVALIDS' WORK. j$ 
 
 God appoints our service, not because He needs it, 
 but because we need it." 
 
 "We need training, and He gives it thus, through 
 the enforced weakness of illness, — through lessons of 
 failure, and, as we think, of loss, and little we know 
 for what it may be the preparation in that restful 
 work of that eternity where His servants shall serve 
 Him." 
 
 The learning of patience even in little things that 
 seem mere trifles as we number them, remember, you 
 may make that a service, dear F., for "with God 
 there are no small duties, and He would have us 
 ready less to serve Him much, than to serve Him 
 perfectly." 
 
 What are these little things ? 
 
 Every invalid knows, — and yet I continue to copy 
 from the English sister, from whom I have before 
 quoted. She writes : 
 
 " Sometimes nothing more than the wonderful 
 things you hear of other invalids, contrasted with 
 your own attainments. — Five years on her back in a 
 darkened room, so that she can rarely work or read, 
 and passes many wakeful nights, and yet she never 
 finds the time long or lonely, as Jesus is always with 
 her. One loves to thank God for His strength thus 
 
14 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 made perfect in weakness ; and yet, if you allow 
 yourself to be saddened by an example so bright, 
 you come under St. Paul's condemnation of those 
 who are not wise." 
 
 I think this extract will just meet one of your 
 troubles, dear F. If it does, recollect, if God does 
 not give you that strength, all the more need is there 
 for you to tend the plant of faith in your heart, not 
 in discouragement because you fail to attain the 
 exultant emotions others may feel, but because you 
 are trying to submit to His will, even if it causes you 
 to exercise faith in the dark, rather than in the 
 light. 
 
 And do not lose out of your service the peace-given 
 memory, that, like the woman of the gospel story, 
 your service may be only to touch in faith the hem of 
 His garment, while your sister's may be to bathe 
 His feet with the precious ointment of a faith so 
 strong, its odor is like the breath of fragrant 
 incense. 
 
 And now I will resume the enumeration of the 
 "little things" mentioned in Miss B.'s book : 
 
 " You reproach yourself, and sometimes hear hints 
 from your friends, that you might do more. 
 
 "'Look at So-and-so,' you hear them say, 'her 
 sofa is the center of a whole machinery. Look at 
 
INVALIDS' WORK. 
 
 15 
 
 the letters she writes, at the sums she collects for 
 different objects of charity '; or, ' look at the wonders 
 her needle accomplishes.' " — 
 
 As you read of all this, dear F., does impatience and 
 rebellion at your own lack of ability to accomplish 
 your desires spring up in your heart ? — If it does, 
 you have encountered a harder work than any task 
 for hand or mind — the work of conquering self-will 
 and " the unsubmissive desire to struggle into activity 
 which God for the present forbids." I continue to 
 quote : " It is hard, too, not to dwell on aches and 
 pains, till they are multiplied, harder still not to 
 give way to that inexplicable dread of possi- 
 bilities, which is one of the skeletons of invalid 
 life. — If you should be worse — if — if, if ! Of course 
 you know the ifs are faithless, but they are very 
 persevering too, and have little insistent voices that 
 will be heard " 
 
 Voices, that only one voice can still, — the voice of 
 Him who said, " Peace, be still." It requires self- 
 discipline, too, to conquer fancies about food, noise, 
 or light. — " They grow and multiply with most 
 furious rapidity, silently gaining ground, which they 
 do not readily give back." 
 
 And almost as rapidly, "one glides into the habit 
 of dwelling on and in one's own little world, in- 
 
IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 :?6 
 
 stead of leaving it to sympathize heartily with 
 others." 
 
 We need to labor too, especially in lingering ill- 
 ness, to keep down the " exacting spirit." 
 
 " Better, instead of giving way to the imperative 
 1 I must have so-and-so ' — to train oneself to say, ' I 
 can do without it.' And it is astonishing of how 
 many things you will learn this to be true, if you 
 steadily put the thought of another's trouble first, 
 and of your own comfort second." 
 
 And now a deeper trouble, — you recognize it is 
 not yours to choose whether you do more or 
 less, but "feeling, surely, is under control if not 
 action." 
 
 " Is it ? To a certain extent, no doubt, and per- 
 haps to a greater extent than we think, but physical 
 causes occasion depression, while they weaken the 
 power to combat it." 
 
 Hence all we have to do is to strive against unsub- 
 missive restlessness, — the restlessness we may not be 
 able to subdue, and this we and those who love us 
 should remember, for somehow it is such comfort in 
 weakness to have others recognize, what the Lord 
 never forgets, " that we can not be disciplined by 
 what brings no smart." 
 
 Do you tell me this work of which I write is all 
 
, K /x 
 
 INVALIDS' WORK. Y ^ > 
 
 spiritual, and that your spirit seems as unequal for 
 the contest as your body is for physical labor ? 
 
 Do you tell me, the thoughts you know are true, 
 nevertheless they do not seem real to you ? 
 
 Well, all you can do is to ask God to make them 
 real, — "ask and ye shall receive," — it is a Gospel 
 promise. 
 
 But you are too weak and worn even to ask, the 
 power of continuous prayer seems gone, all conscious- 
 ness seems merged in a sense of utter weariness. 
 
 Then let your prayer be nothing more than 
 " Looking Up." — Remember, — "He knoweth your 
 frame." 
 
 " Speak when you can, and when you can not, 
 remember that He has not need of words." 
 
 You recollect that man of God of whom it is told, 
 that " when laid aside by over-work of brains, his 
 only prayer for six months had been two words : 
 ' Lord Jesus.' He could ask for nothing ; he could 
 only realize a presence of One long loved and trust- 
 ed. It was all he could bear, and for the time all 
 he needed." 
 
 " All he needed " — remember that. 
 
 And then, — the afterwards to all these days and 
 nights of weakness and weariness, struggle and 
 failure. 
 
1 8 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 Ah, think of the afterwards ! 
 
 " Safe home, safe home in port ! 
 — Rent cordage, shattered deck, 
 Torn sails, provisions short, 
 And only not a wreck ; 
 But oh ! the joy upon the shore 
 To tell our voyage-perils o'er ! 
 
 " The prize, the prize secure ! 
 The athlete nearly fell ; 
 Bare all he could endure, 
 And bare not always well ; 
 But he may smile at troubles gone 
 Who sets the victor-garland on ! 
 
 " No more the foe can harm ; 
 No more of leaguer'd camp, 
 And cry of night-alarm, 
 And need of ready lamp ; 
 And yet how nearly he had failed, — 
 How nearly had that foe prevailed ! 
 
 " The lamb is in the fold 
 In perfect safety penn'd : 
 The lion once had hold, 
 And thought to make an end ; 
 But One came by with Wounded Side, 
 And for the sheep the Shepherd died. 
 
INVALIDS' WORK. 
 
 " The exile is at Home ! 
 
 — O nights and days of tears, 
 
 O longings not to roam, 
 
 O sins, and doubts, and fears, — 
 What matter now (when so men say) 
 The King has wip'd those tears away ? 
 
 " O happy, happy Bride ! 
 
 Thy widow'd hours are past, 
 
 The Bridegroom at thy side, 
 
 Thou all His own at last ! 
 The sorrows of thy former cup 
 In full fruition swallow'd up ! " 
 
 Greek Hymn, 830. 
 
 19* 
 
 <£ 
 
 ^ 
 
^> 
 
 A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 " The Infinite Hand behind the clouds gives only the sor- 
 rows we can bear." 
 
 " Extremity is the trier of spirits ; 
 Common chances common men could bear: — 
 When the sea is calm, all boats alike 
 Show mastership in floating." 
 
 (21) 
 
7f 
 
 A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 You tell me you have read my letter on work, but 
 you want something to come closer to the days that 
 now encompass you. 
 
 Days during which your only service is to lie still 
 and wait, — and then you quote the words: 
 
 "They also serve who only stand and wait," and 
 you ask: 
 
 Are they true ? Is there service in just submitting 
 to God's will ? 
 
 You know my answer. Surely there is, — and yet, 
 by way of proof of this well-known truth, by way of 
 comfort, now that it is your service, I want to tell 
 you of one whose life, — because her spirit was per- 
 vaded with submission, — became like a praise-note 
 even amid days of keen bodily suffering, — and who, 
 when she told me of the heart struggle it cost before 
 she came to say, " Thy will be done," added, " I wish 
 I could pass the experience of that night on, for it 
 might help others to know how I came to feel. 
 
 (^3) 
 
-Jzi 
 
 f*T. 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 " Lord, Thou hast a holy purpose 
 
 In each suffering we bear ; 
 In each throe of pain and terror, 
 
 In each secret, silent tear ; 
 In the weary days of sickness, 
 
 Famine, want, and loneliness ; 
 In our night-time of bereavement, 
 
 In our souls Lent-bitterness." 
 
 And now, bridging the years since Hester Graves 
 uttered that wish, comes your request, and, in re- 
 ply to it, I give you her story. 
 
 She was a middle-aged woman, stricken with 
 mortal disease, brought face to face w r ith the stern 
 fact that the time had come when the kind physician, 
 whose cheery smile and encouraging words had lit 
 up many an hour of dark foreboding, no longer 
 smiled, while in a low voice he told her, " There was 
 nothing left for his skill to do ; it was only a ques- 
 tion of a few speeding months before the end must 
 come ! " And, — she listened to the words calmly, — 
 she held her hand out, and grasped the physician's 
 with a firm, warm clasp. But, — she said not a 
 word, — and silently he left her. 
 
 Left her to take it up, — to grasp it, — the truth, 
 that her days were numbered ! 
 
 Strange how dear life is to us earth-dwellers, — 
 
^ REMINISCENCE. 2 $ 
 
 even to Hester Graves it was sweet and precious, — 
 though she was a lonely woman, with no tie of hus- 
 band or child to bind her to this world. Strange, 
 too, familiar as we are from childhood with Christ's 
 promise, " I go to prepare a place for you," how 
 the heart will shiver at the thought of going out, out 
 into the unknown ! 
 
 All night long Hester struggled to accept, and 
 bow before the physician's verdict with submission, 
 
 thus she told me and night, — it is very long to a 
 
 lonely sufferer. 
 
 It was not till the darkness was beginning to fade 
 before the late dawning of a stormy winter's day 
 that she whispered the words, " Thy will, not mine, 
 be done." Six little words, — all very brief, but 
 none the less wondrous words, for never yet did a 
 soul out of need look up and whisper them, but that 
 straightway in response the " angels came to min- 
 ister." 
 
 Thus it was to Hester Graves, and listening to the 
 comfort-thoughts the ministering ones then brought 
 to her, she entered into the peace of Christ's assur- 
 ance, " I am the Resurrection and the Life," while 
 in her heart thrilled the happiness born of belief in 
 His promise, " Where I am there ye shall be also, — 
 Let not your heart be troubled." 
 
^1 /1 
 
 26 /A^ ^-£ SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 
 Truly she said, " The thoughts that came to me 
 that night, seemed like blossoms broken from the 
 Tree, the leaves of which are for the healing of the 
 nations, for they were every one so laden with balm 
 for my needs, that were many, and complex," and 
 Hester's voice had grown softer, as she continued : 
 
 " For fears, they beat in upon my soul ruthlessly 
 as the tide creeps on and up on some low-lying 
 shore, — it is such a lonely experience to know human 
 skill, human aid powerless to help. 
 
 " Trembling and afraid, I lay there in the dark, 
 till Christ helped me to say the words, ' Thy will,' — 
 and then, as by ' His command, Genesaret's storm- 
 tossed waves were quieted, till like a sea of glass 
 the lake lay beneath the rising sun,' so my troubled 
 soul was bathed in peace, and made open and quiet 
 to receive, and hold, the comfort He sent." 
 
 Presently she had added : 
 
 "Yet something, as a child entering the shadows 
 of a dreary forest at nightfall, clings to a father's 
 hand, sure the father's hand-clasp in return means 
 safety, is yet half fearful, still tremulously, I ques- 
 tioned, will my heart fail when I hear the call that 
 bids me enter on the hour of mystery? — and like 
 note of tender mother's lullaby to sobbing child, I 
 seemed to hear in answer a voice softly saying : 
 
A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 ' No —for 
 
 " ' From out the dazzling Majesty 
 
 Gently He'll lay His hand on thee, 
 Whispering, " Beloved, lov'st thou me ? 
 'Tis I — be not afraid." ' 
 
 » 
 
 27 
 
 IK 
 
 " But my fears were not all hushed, and still I 
 queried, The valley of shadows, — it is so dark, — the 
 river of death, — it is so cold, — and again, like the 
 ripple of summer breeze sounded the voice : 
 
 " ' Unto Him whose love hath washed her 
 Whiter than snow, 
 She shall pass through the shallow river 
 With heart aglow ; 
 
 " ' For the Lord's voice on the waters 
 
 Lingereth sweet, 
 
 " He that is washed needeth only 
 To wash his feet." ' " 
 
 Ah, the comforts, — the wondrous comforts born 
 for needy souls out of Christ's pity, out of God's 
 love ! 
 
 Hester's story did not end with the recital of these 
 comforts ; she went on to tell, how like the black- 
 ness of darkness her sins passed in swift array be- 
 
* 4 - 
 
 2 8 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 fore her, those things she had left undone, and those 
 things she had done which she ought not to have 
 done, till aloud she cried, " My sins, what can I do 
 with them ? " And then, soothing as strains of 
 iEolian harp, had come the answer, " Nothing; Christ 
 has done all ; Christ, whose blood cleanseth from 
 sin ; Christ, who gives for the asking the white 
 robe, in place of the garment red like crimson." 
 
 Other fears, too, had been in Hester's heart ; but 
 for every one the Lord gave her a consolation 
 thought, which by faith she grasped, — and, the Lord, 
 He will be as merciful, and tender to you, in your 
 need, if you seek Him, — for, — His name is Love. 
 
 And now I have told you enough, for you to look 
 behind, and know the secret of the patient waiting, 
 patient enduring of pain and weariness, that made 
 it so true of Hester Graves, that " they also serve 
 who only stand and wait," enough for you to know, 
 submission is service. 
 
 And remember, 
 
 " Light is our sorrow, for it ends to-morrow, 
 
 Light is our death which cannot hold us fast ; 
 So brief a sorrow can be scarcely sorrow, 
 Or death be death so quickly past. 
 
 " One night, no more, of pain that turns to pleasure, 
 One night, no more, of weeping, weeping sore ; 
 

 A REMINISCENCE. 29 
 
 And then the heaped-up measure beyond measure, 
 In quietness for evermore. 
 
 Our face is set like flint against our trouble, 
 Yet many things there are which comfort us, 
 
 This bubble is a rainbow-colored bubble, 
 This bubble-life tumultuous. 
 
 Our sails are set to cross the tossing river, 
 
 Our face is set to reach Jerusalem ; 
 We toil awhile, but then we rest forever, 
 
 Sing with all Saints and rest with them." 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 n 
 

 DAILY THINGS. 
 
 " What is to-morrow until it comes ? " 
 
 " Live by the day, — you will have daily trials, and strength 
 according." 
 
 "He that has one morsel of bread in his basket, and yet 
 frets for the morrow, is the man of little faith." 
 
 " God's will in the present moment is the daily bread which 
 transcends all substance." 
 
 (31) 
 

 \£r 
 
 DAILY THINGS. 
 
 "Are our hairs numbered, and our days forgot- 
 ten?" 
 
 For answer, think of the daily things mentioned in 
 the Bible. 
 
 Things which belong to the sick and suffering, 
 full as much as to the well and strong. Ponder on 
 but a few of them, dear F., and truly I think you 
 will find what seem but "fragments " in the gather- 
 ing, will, like the grain of mustard, — which is indeed 
 the least of all seeds, — grow and become trees, so 
 that "the birds of the air come, and lodge in the 
 branches thereof" (Matt. xiii. 32). 
 
 Little birds, that always teach the secret of daily 
 peace, for, — " What has God given to the wren ? — 
 
 Content." What chirps the sparrow, but the 
 
 faith-song. 
 
 He gives us each our portion 
 In sunshine or in rain." 
 
 (33) 
 

 34 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 And : 
 
 " Are ye not much better 
 
 Than they ? " the dear Lord says , 
 " Why, then, are ye so faithless ? 
 Trust Me in darkest days." 
 
 Do you remember how Mrs. Browning, "whom 
 England loves to call Shakespeare's daughter," 
 teaches the lesson of " rest in God's goodness " by 
 a bird song ? 
 
 " Oh ! the little birds sang east, the little birds sang west ! 
 And I said in under-breath : all our life is mixed with death, 
 And who knoweth which is best ? 
 
 " Oh ! the little birds sang east, the little birds sang west ! 
 And I smiled to think God's goodness flows around out 
 
 incompleteness ; 
 Round our restlessness His rest." 
 
 " Round our restlessness His rest." Will the 
 
 daily things help to unfold what that rest in God 
 means ? 
 
 They do to me, and I think they will to you. I 
 will only point you to six, but if you seek them you 
 can find as many as the rounds in Jacob's ladder, 
 and every one will lead you a step higher, a step 
 nearer heaven, as every day leads " a day's march 
 nearer Home." 
 
DAILY THINGS. 35 
 
 First among them, naturally I pause to bid you 
 muse on the ever-recurring daily need, — " daily 
 bread," 
 
 " Give us this day our daily bread " (Matt. vi. 11). 
 Not to-morrow's, but this day's. 
 
 Every new day a new casting of ourselves upon 
 the care and providing of our Heavenly Father, not 
 only for the food which sustains the body, but for 
 the bread that is spiritual, and that will enable us 
 to accept whatever He sends, be it sickness or health, 
 weakness or strength, as the best thing that can 
 come to us, because He sends it. 
 
 But I need not linger over these thoughts, for you 
 know, as I do, that this prayer means much more 
 than material 'nourishment, and that "it includes 
 the idea of fitness, adaptiveness, and sufficiency for 
 our souls too." 
 
 Some texts there are that always seem to me like 
 a voice and an echo ; it is so with the following : 
 " Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the 
 days of my life " (Ps. xxiii. 6) — its echo, " Blessed be 
 the Lord who daily loadeth us with benefits, even 
 the God of our salvation" (Ps. lxviii. 19). 
 
 I give you no thought of my own on these pas- 
 sages, for I want to copy words that I hold dear ; 
 
* M 
 
 36 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 they are from Anna Warner's " Melody of the Twenty- 
 third Psalm." She writes : 
 
 " Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all 
 the days of my life. — 'Surely'; — we say, ' perhaps,' 
 'I hope so,' 'I trust so'; but David's faith goes fur- 
 ther, and says, 'surely.' — From all restless cares, 
 from all weary fears, even from all clamorous wishes 
 (a thought that, specially for an invalid to ponder), 
 David had ' ceased ': — saying, 'The will of the Lord 
 be done.' Could anything be better than that? Could 
 he lack much, followed by the goodness of the 
 Lord, which ' endureth continually,' and the mercy 
 of the Lord, which is 'to everlasting.' — Not the days 
 of famine — though they might be many ; not the 
 enemies of his life and peace ; not the valley of the 
 shadow of death itself, — were a dread, with that 
 ' surely.' For who that truly loves the hand of God, 
 fears anything which it may send ? ' Goodness ' and 
 ' mercy,' — there are no darker names. For all the 
 days of his life, David knew these were sure. And 
 then?" 
 
 It was our Lord Christ who said : 
 
 " If any man will come after Me, let him deny 
 himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me" 
 (Luke ix. 23). 
 
 "Follow Me" they are such tender words to 
 
Kkf 
 
 DAILY THINGS. 37 
 
 come close after the command to daily cross- 
 bearing. 
 
 "He goeth before" and yet, Do you say the 
 
 path is rough, the cross heavy ? 
 
 Yes, I know it is hard to believe the rough path, 
 the heavy cross, are " His love-tokens." 
 
 But as Phillips Brooks asks, " Have you never 
 found your cross a lif 'ting-up ? Never found, the 
 everlasting parable of the thorns that made a crown, 
 repeating itself for you ? " 
 
 Ah ! remember when you shrink back from this 
 daily cross-bearing, that "the Lover of souls can 
 make tryst with His beloved ones, and will keep it 
 anywhere, and almost in any manner, — and what 
 matter it, if He be the leader, — if He be the guide"; 
 — what matter if the cross-bearing be " up hill all 
 the way " ? 
 
 " Trustfully, hopefully, you can rest in the sick- 
 chamber, or lie down on the bed of mortal death, if 
 only He calls you, and leads you out." 
 
 Out, by the gate inscribed, " Follow Me." 
 
 " The winds blow fierce across the barren wild ; 
 
 The storm-clouds gather darkly on our way ; 
 
 'Tis cold ! But, oh, that loving face and mild, 
 
 Which goes before ! There first the shadows stay ; 
 
V 
 
 Sr±± 
 38 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 And tempests reach Him first, our Shepherd there ; 
 What He endures shall we complain to bear ? 
 
 The way is rough, and wearying steeps arise ; 
 
 And thorns are there to wound our aching feet ; 
 But, oh, those sacred footsteps, firm and wise, 
 
 Which go before ! They first the roughness meet, 
 And briers reach them first ! Oh, shall we dread 
 To bear His cross — to walk where He hath led ? 
 
 The stream is reached ; — the river dark and cold ; 
 
 The waves are high ! But, oh, that mighty One, 
 Who goes before ! — the billows o'er Him rolled ; 
 
 He crossed the water first, and shall we shun 
 The final anguish that our Shepherd bore? 
 His hand shall guide us to the other shore." 
 
 "Day unto day uttereth speech " (Ps. xix. 2). 
 
 Think of this universal daily voice of praise, — 
 Nature's praise. — Think " what wonders lie in every 
 day," and you will have thoughts enough to fill with 
 music and sunshine many an hour of physical weari- 
 ness. 
 
 I am always so glad, a man of Luther's rugged, 
 somewhat stern nature, basked, as it were, in the 
 light of God's daily repeated miracle-working power. 
 
 "The world," he writes, "is full of God's miracles 
 which happen without ceasing"; and he adds: 
 
DAILY THINGS. 
 
 39 
 
 " But our eyes must be pure, lest because they are 
 so common to us, they become dim." 
 
 Words that glow with meaning, for it is written, 
 the pure in heart see God ; surely, then, only the 
 pure in heart can read the meaning of the daily mir- 
 acle of morning and night, bud and flower, sunshine 
 and shadow, and all the wondrous workings of 
 nature, great as well as small ; only the pure "can 
 look at it in entirety, or in its details, beholding in it 
 the harmony of the word of God, manifested by the 
 works of God." 
 
 Is your heart pure? Can you see within the veil? 
 Can you hear the daily music of "day unto day 
 uttereth speech " ? Can you read the meaning of 
 Nature's "silent parables"? 
 
 As every month of the twelve has a special name 
 of its own, so it seems to me every daily need has a 
 special grace, that peculiarly belongs to it, — and 
 without exception I think invalids may lay claim to 
 a peculiar need of patience, and hence it may right- 
 fully be called their special grace. 
 
 Thinking thus, I give you a verse from Job, to 
 link with the promise: "As thy day thy strength 
 shall be," — spiritual strength for spiritual need, re- 
 member, — " All the days of my appointed time will / 
 wait, till my change comes " (Job xiv. 14). 
 
^4_ . 
 
 40 IN THE SHADO IV OF HIS HAND. 
 
 Patience to wait, — patience to endure, — patience 
 in much, — patience in little, — I wonder if in that 
 prayer for daily bread of which I spoke on another 
 page, this patience, — invalids' patience, — is not 
 largely comprised ? 
 
 If it is, in among the " daily things " you will find 
 enumerated in the Bible, you can read the words, 
 " A daily rate for every day, all the days of his life " 
 (2 Kings xxv. 30). 
 
 Why not call this an invalid's promise ? 
 
 And now I have come to the end of the six daily 
 things I said I would number for you. 
 
 Shall I make my conclusion a rosary, even though, 
 then, it must hold fifteen? 
 
 Yes, I will, though I will leave you to thread for 
 yourself the gems of daily blessings indicated, for 
 you will know best how to string them, according 
 to your daily needs. 
 
 For thought : 
 
 " How I love Thy law ! it is my meditation all the 
 day " (Ps. cxix. 97). 
 
 A couplet of promises : 
 
 " That which they have need of — let it be given 
 them day by day without fail " (Ezra vi. 9). 
 
DAILY THINGS. 
 
 
 " Though our outward man perish, yet the inward 
 man is renewed day by day " (2 Cor. iv. 16). 
 
 For preservation : 
 
 " I the Lord do keep it, I will water it, I will keep 
 it night and day " (Isa. xxvii. 3). 
 
 — Keep what ? Faith and patience, I think, in 
 your case. 
 
 A blessing for the faithful : 
 
 " Blessed is the man that heareth Me, watching 
 daily at My gates " (Pro. viii. 34). 
 
 And for the seeker : 
 
 " These were more noble than those in Thessa- 
 lonica, in that they received the word with all readi- 
 ness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily " 
 (Acts xvii. 11). 
 
 For the tired : 
 
 "And there shall be a tabernacle for a shadow in 
 the day-time from the heat, and for a place of refuge, 
 and for a covert from storm, and from rain " 
 (Isa. iv. 6). 
 
 Even 
 
 " Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and 
 for ever " (Heb. xiii. 8). 
 
 41 
 
^A 
 
 ! 
 
 ±e_ " * 
 
 K 
 
 42 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 So 
 
 "We may rejoice, and be glad all our days'* 
 (Ps. xc. 14). 
 
 For incentive for daily vigilance ponder that 
 question of the mother to Ruth : 
 
 "Where hast thou gleaned to-day?*' (Ruth ii. 19). 
 
 But perchance you ask for thoughts of that Other 
 Day. 
 
 That " day, when before the throne of God you 
 shall serve Him in His temple." For, — you know 
 that " He is able to keep that which you have com- 
 mitted to Him, against that day." 
 
 And " may you find mercy of the Lord in that 
 day " — and enter " the city where the gates shall not 
 be shut all day," — and " where there is no need of 
 the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it, for the 
 glory of the Lord doth lighten it, and the Lamb is 
 the light thereof," — there, where " there is laid up for 
 you a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
 righteous judge, shall give you at that day." 
 
PICTURES. 
 
 " Teach me, my God and King, 
 In all things Thee to see." 
 
 Night brings out stars, as sorrow shows us truths. 
 
 " Thou may'st see reflected, e'en in life, 
 The worlds, the heavens, the ages." 
 
 (43) 
 
 

 t 
 
 PICTURES. 
 
 Remember, " we all in large measure bring with 
 us what we see in anything." 
 
 Not till we are shut in week after week by the 
 four walls of a sick-room, do we fully know, I think, 
 what pictures may come to mean, and how much 
 companionship and consolation one may almost 
 hourly receive from the prints that hang upon our 
 walls. 
 
 This comfort is nowadays brought so within the 
 reach of all invalids, I want to speak with you about 
 it, even though you do not need to be told of the 
 many works of the masters in art, that are duplicated 
 in fair copies, by litho. and photograph. 
 
 And yet, have you ever thought how some among 
 these representations of sacred and legendary sub- 
 jects, seem to claim a special right to the title of 
 Invalids' Pictures ? 
 
 As I lift my eyes they rest upon perhaps one of 
 
 (45) 
 
^1 /1 
 
 46 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 the most suggestive, for the sick-room, Ary Schef- 
 fer's "Christus Consolator." 
 
 Do you know ij; ? If you do, you doubtless 
 
 know, too, the tender fact, that it was the picture a 
 daughter of England, widely known for far-reaching 
 thought, but whose faith grew dim, because of her 
 much longing for sight, desired hung above her 
 mantel, that during hours of suffering she might fix 
 her gaze on the central figure, the tender Christ, the 
 One of all compassion. 
 
 As for that parable picture, the Good Shepherd, 
 holding the tired lamb safe in His Arms of Love, I 
 think it would be almost as impossible to number 
 the hints and whispers of comfort and peace it has 
 suggested to the sick and suffering, as it would be 
 to count the daisies on a sunny bank-side of a sum- 
 mer morning. 
 
 Think of these suggestions but for a moment, and 
 what a daisy-chain of blessings you have as an out- 
 growth of the one simple line : 
 
 " With the sheep, the Shepherd of the fold." 
 
 Thoughts that lead by green pastures and still 
 
 waters. " I am the Good Shepherd." — " I know 
 
 My sheep and am known of Mine." — "Fear not, 
 little flock." 
 
PICTURES. 
 
 47 
 
 But I will not enumerate more of the Scripture 
 comforts that halo this picture, and yet they are 
 many. 
 
 I remember so well once placing it before a dying 
 boy, — all through the day his gaze rested on it, and 
 when twilight came, day's twilight, — and life's twi- 
 light to that young sufferer, softly he asked : 
 
 " Put it where I can see it, — it makes me feel so 
 safe." 
 
 And, — the little lad passed from earth to heaven 
 with his eyes fixed on that pictured portrayal of the 
 Good Shepherd, and the child's heart was at peace, 
 because by faith, he grasped the meaning of the 
 Heavenly Shepherd's promise, "I will gather the 
 lambs in My bosom." 
 
 But, it is not only of these tangible pictures I 
 would speak to you, though I would fain tarry to 
 say, bring into the sick-room not only tender repre- 
 sentations of Scripture truths, and uplifting works 
 of sacred art, but bring, too, bits of bright color. 
 
 For, sometimes to eyes shut away from seeing the 
 fair world of Nature's loveliness, a sketch, — even 
 though crude in execution and coloring, — will hint 
 a whole summer full of beauty to a home-bound in- 
 valid, whose " country-going " is all by proxy. 
 
 I must not overlook one more pleasure you may 
 
^ /| ^ . , 
 
 48 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 find, when strong enough, as an outgrowth of tan- 
 gible pictures. 
 
 It is the looking for the many interesting legends, 
 and facts, that cluster as roses on a rose-tree, about 
 almost all paintings by the old masters, and that 
 the seeker can find in the charming "art-books," 
 that have so multiplied in these latter years. 
 
 But, after all, dear F., it is the spiritual pictures 
 that are the dearest, and they are two-fold, made up 
 as they are of " Bible picture-bits, that stand out 
 in such bright, vivid coloring so fair and clear." If 
 we pass them by unnoticed, we lose, I think, a part 
 of the heritage which is ours, as the Heavenly 
 Father's children, for I am sure "that Christians 
 who have no care for the speech through which He 
 utters, as in a parable, His own tender teaching — 
 lose more than they know," and made up, too, of 
 memories of the beauty of sky, land, and water- 
 scape enjoyed in the days before the Lord called 
 aside. 
 
 Only "aside" — remember, these pause-places 
 marked by illness are, as Ruskin so beautifully says, 
 rests." 
 
 Do you recall the passage ? In its completeness 
 it reads : 
 
 " God sends a time of forced leisure, sickness, dis- 
 
 « 
 
PICTURES. 49 
 
 appointed plans, frustrated efforts, and makes a 
 sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives, and 
 we lament that our voices must be silent, and our 
 part missing in the music which ever goes up to the 
 ear of the Creator. 
 
 " How does the musician read the rest ? See him 
 beat the time with unvarying count, and catch up 
 the next note true and steady, as if no breaking- 
 place had come between. 
 
 "Not without design does God write the music of 
 our lives. Be it ours to learn the tune, and not be 
 dismayed at the ' rests.' They are not to be slurred 
 over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, 
 not to change the key-note. If we look up, God 
 Himself will beat the time for us. 
 
 "With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next 
 note full and clear. If we say sadly to ourselves, 
 ' There is no music in a rest,' let us not forget, there 
 is 'the making of music' in it. The making of 
 music is often a slow and painful process in this 
 life. How patiently God works to teach us ! How 
 long He waits for us to learn the lesson ! " — 
 
 May not one learning of it be the truth that " if 
 memory is possession," " if we have all that we have 
 enjoyed," we are to gather up the recollections of 
 3 
 
4! 
 
 50 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 bygone-beheld beauty, and find a meaning in it 
 voiceful for our present need ? 
 
 The parables of your past seeing ! Think of 
 them, and you will find yourself soothed and com- 
 forted in many an hour of pain and weariness. 
 
 Tell you what I mean ? — Well, by way of reply, I 
 will give you a simple example of the comfort and 
 strength to bear present suffering, and its almost 
 harder sister, anticipated suffering, which B. found 
 from remembering just one brief hour-encompassed 
 drive, through a fair prospect land of Nature's love- 
 liness. 
 
 But note, she found it, and you can only find it, 
 by accepting the significance of Keble's verse : 
 
 " The distant landscape draws not nigh 
 For all our gazing ; but the soul 
 That upward looks may still descry- 
 Nearer each day the brightening goal." 
 
 I give the story in B.'s own words : 
 
 " I knew I was very ill, and yet when the knowl- 
 edge came to me that the illness might make neces- 
 sary a remedy, harsh as the use of the surgeon's 
 knife, my heart seemed to stand still. 
 
 "Time after time I tried to really say with full 
 submission, 'the spirit is willing' to endure if God 
 
PICTURES. 5 
 
 so orders; and when at last the Lord helped me thus 
 to say, my ' flesh,' ah! it was so 'weak,' I do not 
 think that it submitted. I lay awake one night till 
 close on to morning, trying to accept the future. 
 My pillow was wet with my tears, when my old 
 nurse bent over me and said : 
 
 " ' Do not cross the bridge, dearie, till you come 
 to it.' 
 
 " ' But I know it is before me,' I replied, half pet- 
 ulantly, and then, with one of those swift flights 
 
 of memory, that a word will sometimes start, I was 
 led by that word bridge, back into the bygone of a 
 June day. 
 
 "Masses of soft clouds seemed floating in the blue 
 sky as they did then; every wayside flower and 
 shrub seemed glad that day. I was driving with a 
 friend. The road he chose led straight on, and be- 
 fore us, — in the beyond, — sparkled in the sunlight 
 the waters of a flowing river spanned by a bridge. 
 'We must cross it,' over and over I said ; 'we must 
 cross the bridge, for see, there is not a turn either 
 to right or left.' — 
 
 "And my companion smiled, as nearer and nearer 
 we came to what he playfully called, 'my bridge,' 
 — but, lo ! just as we approached it, not a rod off, 
 a sudden turn, an opening between the sentinel 
 
 7 
 
*/\ ■ 
 
 52 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 trees that guarded that roadway, and, — we never 
 
 crossed the bridge at all ! — our way led through a 
 shady lane, with one side all beauty in its wild 
 tangle of June blossoms, — the other, only a narrow 
 grass-grown pathway, that led close to the water's 
 edge, — and oh, it was such ' still water ' ! — and the 
 grass-blades that edged that wayside, they were 
 such hinters of the 'green pastures.'" 
 
 I need not give you, dear, the moral of this mem- 
 ory-picture of B.'s, — only let me bid you, when tired 
 and oppressed by the ' perhaps,' the ' may-be ' bridges 
 that come in the train of illness, to recall your 
 bygone glimpses of Nature, seeking their lessons, 
 and never a doubt have I, but that you will find, as 
 B. did, strength and help in these memory-pictures 
 — help even not to cross the bridges before you 
 come to them. — For " the entire visible world is a 
 shadowing forth of the invisible things of God. — 
 Its beauty is a wayside sacrament, full of a most 
 real Presence." 
 
 But my letter, it has lengthened till it quite out- 
 strips the bounds of an invalid's leaflet, hence I will 
 keep for another day, the thoughts I want to give 
 you on Gospel Pictures. 
 
J\fcr 
 
 ; 
 
 GOSPEL PICTURES. 
 
 " Christian faith is a grand cathedral with divinely-pictured 
 windows. Standing without, you see no glory, nor can pos- 
 sibly imagine any. Standing within, every ray of light reveals 
 a harmony of unspeakable splendor." 
 
 (53) 
 

 GOSPEL PICTURES. 
 
 I promised you a letter on Gospel Pictures, and 
 sitting in the twilight yesterday, musing on what I 
 should write, the thought came to me, Why not, in 
 fulfillment of my promise, tell of a visit I made not 
 long ago on Mrs. S. ? 
 
 Dear old lady, ever since I first knew her the same 
 patient soul has looked from her eyes, and yet she 
 has Deen more than four years bedridden. 
 
 Think of it ! four years, — in one sense doing 
 nothing, in another so much, — for all that time she 
 has been patiently waiting His will. 
 
 It was not a large room into which I was ushered ; 
 it measured not more than twelve by fourteen feet. 
 It was simply furnished ; an old-fashioned upright 
 bureau, a straight high-back chair or two, a four- 
 post bedstead with white hangings, — these were the 
 chief articles. 
 
 It seemed a bit dreary to me, coming in as I did 
 from the bright outdoor world of sunshine, yet 
 
 (55) 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 
 J 
 
 56 
 
 everything was so scrupulously neat, so pure and 
 stainless, from the window-curtains and bed-hangings 
 to the snowy coverlet, that it was a pleasant place to 
 look upon, and softly I said to myself, " It is a white 
 room." 
 
 Even the cluster of roses held in the quaint china 
 vase on the mantel were white roses. The walls, 
 too, that encompassed the little room were white 
 walls, their smooth surface unbroken by portrait of 
 husband or child, or painting of mountain or valley, 
 river or lake. 
 
 And yet, when I said to Mrs. S., " Are you never 
 lonely ? Do you never want pictures to look at as 
 you lie still day after day ?" she answered, with a 
 smile : 
 
 "Why, my friend, there is no end to the pictures 
 I can see if I only lift my gaze up." 
 
 As I asked her what she meant, the smile that 
 played over her face deepened, lighting it up, as 
 sunbeams light up and play over meadow-lands at 
 high noon of a midsummer's day, while the clasp of 
 her hand which held mine grew firmer, as she 
 replied : 
 
 "Do you want to know? Well, then, you must 
 listen to an old woman's story, — the story of a com- 
 monplace life " (but she was mistaken in using these 
 
* fc^fe 
 
 GOSPEL PICTURES. 57 
 
 last words, — for, is any life commonplace ?) " for my 
 days, they have come and gone pretty much like 
 other people's days, they tell their tale pretty much 
 in the same words." 
 
 And then Mrs. S. told the story of her youth and 
 love, told of the time when she had walked hand-in- 
 hand amid life's joys and cares with her husband ; a 
 time when, in her home, the patter of a child's feet, 
 the music of a child's voice, had sounded, — and of 
 the time when the little feet had grown weary, the 
 little voice silent, — a time that was followed, only a 
 year later, by a morning, since which the hand-clasp 
 of a husband's loving earthly companionship had 
 been loosened, — a time, after which Mrs. S. left the 
 home of her youth and joy, to dwell in that one 
 room, the stainless white room in which I found her. 
 
 But I must not linger over the forepart of her 
 tale, when it is the afterpart of which I want to tell 
 you, because it is full, I think, of heart-cheer, heart- 
 help, leading as it does to the pictures that are out- 
 lined for us in the Book, and which, if we look at 
 them with childlike faith, will give us glimpses of 
 Heavenly Love, as much more beautiful than earth- 
 bound pictures^as David's Psalms and Isaiah's poems 
 are more beautiful than song of sweetest singer, in 
 the kingdom of singers among men. 
 

 I 
 
 58 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 And now let us return to my questions to Mrs. S. 
 
 "Do you never grow weary? Does time never 
 seem long to you ? Do you never feel it hard that 
 God keeps you for so many, many years away from 
 the Heavenly home, where your husband and child 
 were called so long ago ? " 
 
 " No, time, — it does not seem long," the aged 
 
 woman answered. "My days, they are not weary 
 days. Sometimes I am a little tired, that is all ; 
 sometimes I can not help asking, ' Open the door, 
 dear Lord, open the door, and let me in soon.' " 
 
 And, if there had sounded the shadow of a sigh 
 in my dear old friend's voice, it melted and was 
 gone, quickly as snow-flakes that fall on April days 
 melt and vanish, as she continued : 
 
 " But it is not often I feel thus, I am content 
 mostly to bide His time ; but when the tired feeling 
 does come, if I ask our Lord Christ, He is ever near 
 to help me drive it away ; and after the asking, 
 sometimes it seems as though I heard His voice close 
 beside me, saying : 
 
 " ' Look away from yourself, — look on My pict- 
 ures.' 
 
 "And then, as I look, almost I seem to feel His 
 Hand, the Hand of Christ, leading me among the 
 Gospel pictures, and I see so many, as I told 
 
GOSPEL PICTURES. $g 
 
 you before, not an empty place is left upon my 
 walls." 
 
 And again the beautiful smile, like sunshine, lit 
 up the wrinkled, time-marked face, as I asked again, 
 "What do you mean by seeing pictures ? Tell me 
 of them." And in Mrs. S.'s voice there thrilled a 
 note tenderer even than the memory of the dearest 
 human love had wakened, as she replied : 
 
 "Do you never think of the pictures Christ re- 
 veals to the soul ? " 
 
 Then for awhile Mrs. S. was silent, till, half as 
 though speaking to herself, she said : " It was not 
 till I had learned of Christ, and His love, that I 
 found beside every one of my own heart-pictures He 
 places a picture too, towards which if I look, I find 
 consolation ; and now when I fall into thinking of 
 the past, when my heart is like to break with long- 
 ing for my old home, I seem to hear a voice whis- 
 pering the words, ' And every man went unto his 
 own house, Jesus went unto the Mount of Olives,' — 
 and, close beside the picture of my heart's loneliness, 
 I see the picture held in those words. Looking at 
 it, how can I complain, for it shows me, amid the 
 shadows of the deepening night, a lonely, weary 
 man toiling up the steep hill-side, while the valley 
 is thronged with people, — people hastening to their 
 
 j 
 

 60 ^N THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 own homes, with no thought of the Christ, who, 
 when night came, had not 'where to lay His head.' 
 
 Ah ! how can we think of the homeless Christ 
 
 and complain, whatever our lot may be?" 
 
 Presently, the old lady continued : 
 
 " And when memory lights up some hour of wan- 
 dering, when I knew the right, and chose the wrong, 
 and the hope in my heart is crushed by that memory, 
 then, too, I hear a whisper of love, bidding me look 
 away from my own wandering, — away to the picture 
 of pitying forgiveness portrayed in the words, ' The 
 
 Lord turned and looked on Peter.' Think of thai 
 
 look!" 
 
 After these words, there was silence between us 
 for awhile, then Mrs. S. said : 
 
 " Yet there do come to me hours when I see my- 
 self a sick, desolate old woman, and I know it is my 
 Lord who leads my memory at such times to the 
 verse of comfort, ' Now, there was leaning on Jesus' 
 bosom that disciple whom Jesus loved'; and, as I 
 look on that picture, I know it is Jesus' voice I hear 
 whispering, ' You are tired, my old servant, tired, — 
 lean on Me, and be rested,' and I know just as the 
 well-beloved John leaned, so may I lean on Christ's 
 bosom, and be at rest." 
 
GOSPEL PICTURES. 6 1 
 
 Not many more words did Mrs. S. add to her talk 
 with me. 
 
 " For I have told you enough," she said, "for you 
 to know why I am never lonely for long, — why, 
 when sad memories come, I have but to look at the 
 Gospel pictures, and there I always find cheer." 
 
 And, dear F., the door leading to this picture- 
 gallery is open to you, too, — open wide, remember, 
 if you but look with the eye of faith, — faith that will 
 guide you, whatever your weariness, whatever your 
 foreboding, to a picture of sympathy, of comfort, — 
 for, are not the pictures Christ shows us in the Gos- 
 pel records typical of His living sympathy and com- 
 panionship ? 
 
 Do they not open far-reaching inlooks, even into 
 the very heart of Infinite Love ? 
 
 " Be still, 
 And keep thy soul's large window pure, 
 That so as life's appointment issueth, 
 Thy vision may be clear." 
 

 SUNDAY DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 "The Sabbath is the golden clasp which binds together 
 the volume of the week." 
 
 " A holy Sabbath is the parent of a holy week, and holy 
 weeks shall end in a holy immortality." 
 
 (63) 
 
^> 
 
 SUNDAY DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 " On Sunday Heaven's gate stands ope, 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife." 
 
 You write, dear F., " Sundays are almost a trial 
 to me, — Sunday, the day I used to love best of all 
 days ; for as weeks come and go I do not learn to 
 miss less the outward means of grace of which I am 
 deprived. No, I long for them all the more, and 
 sometimes, — do not be shocked, — my longing is im- 
 patience of heart. I know it, though I conceal it 
 behind a quiet manner." 
 
 And then you add : " Can you help me ? Will 
 you send me just a hint or two of how I may become 
 reconciled to this enforced seclusion?" 
 
 As I finished reading your letter, I found myself 
 softly repeating, " As in water face answereth to 
 face, so the heart of man to man"; for your request 
 and your complaint came to me like an echo from 
 the pages of a little book from over the sea (the 
 same volume from which I quote in my letter to you 
 
 (65) 
 

 66 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 on work). I had been reading it only an hour be- 
 fore, finding in it words of cheer and help, addressed 
 to one whose heart was shadowed, whose faith was 
 a bit clouded, by much the same " Sunday difficul- 
 ties " that oppress you, and verily I believe, thou- 
 sands of invalids all our broad land over. 
 
 And now, just as when one walks through a 
 meadow starred with flowers, they linger to gather 
 here a bud and there a blossom, I turn again to the 
 book, to cull and send you from its pages a flower- 
 like thought or two, from this English sister's coun- 
 sel to her invalid friend. She writes : 
 
 " I can better feel for your Sunday difficulties than 
 I know how to aid them. They are helped much by 
 prayer. Special asking brings special grace. Your 
 High-Priest remembers the days of His flesh, and 
 His spirit aids in double measure the worship which 
 is compassed with infirmity. You grieve over your 
 weakness, but does He judge you for what His own 
 hand sends?" 
 
 How seldom we remember in our weary days of 
 languor, or acute illness, this truth, that He sends 
 it. He leads us, as it were, apart, even into the 
 quiet of the sick-room. He says to us, " Sit still,, 
 my daughter," " Mary sat at Jesus' feet, and heard 
 His words," "Take heed, and be quiet. Com- 
 
to 
 
 SUNDAY DIFFICULTIES. 6? 
 
 mane with your own heart upon your bed, and 
 be still." 
 
 Why not take these Bible words as the sweet her- 
 itage, the heavenly benediction of love, that rests on 
 Sundays set apart to be spent in the seclusion of an 
 invalid's room ? " Sit still, my daughter ! " 
 
 Ah ! if we listened to the Voice saying thus to us, 
 think you the seclusion would be irksome? — think 
 you not we would hear, in the silence, the " still 
 small voice" saying wondrous things? 
 
 It is said, " If prayer is the worship of the heart, 
 meditation is that of the mind." And have you ever 
 thought, that the two special blessings which seem 
 to come as compensation to those debarred from 
 joining in Church services on the Lord's day, are 
 time for meditation and contemplation ? Seek the dif- 
 ference between the two, and you will find thought 
 enough to fill many a quiet Sunday hour. For 
 meditation may be defined as " the pondering of the 
 spirit on some Divine doctrine"; while contempla- 
 tion is "the admiring gaze of the believing and 
 worshipping heart on the glory of its Lord and 
 King." 
 
 But, we are straying from our English friend's 
 counsel. 
 
 " Variety," she tells us, " is a great preventive of 
 
^4 
 
 /It: 
 
 68 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 weariness." Specially, we would add, for those 
 whose frames are worn by pain, who know wakeful 
 nights and restless days, those whose sigh tells so 
 well the invalid's story, " I am tired, so tired." 
 
 " Turn from one thing to another as often as you 
 can, with little spaces between of absolute rest." 
 Different subjects for prayer, different kinds of read- 
 ing, she recommends, and, when there is strength 
 for it, the making Sunday a day for special inter- 
 cession. 
 
 Who can tell when the blessings fall what prayer 
 besought them ? Perchance the answer came in 
 response to a petition offered in some darkened 
 room, from some couch of pain, from some heart 
 where the pulse of earthly life beat low, but where 
 the soul soared high in nearness to God. This is 
 such a wonderful, mysterious part of the lives of 
 God's hidden ones, all shut away, as they seem, 
 from ministries of love for His sake, they yet can 
 offer the most effectual ministry of all, — the prayer 
 of faith. 
 
 One more suggestion from the English book : 
 " Sundays at home may be cheered by joining in 
 spirit in the worship of others, and sometimes, when 
 too weak for aught else, we can do this, for we can 
 remember that we have our part in that petition 
 
SUN DA Y DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 69 
 
 which shows such wonderful knowledge of the suf- 
 ferer's need, — that God would give them patience 
 under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all 
 their afflictions." 
 
 There are many simple little books that come in 
 very sweetly for such hours, tiny volumes of Bible 
 promises, strung together, with a line or two of a 
 hymn, a simple prayer and aspiration thought, they 
 are often great helps when we can make no effort 
 for ourselves, seeming like the chords of music that 
 give forth only soothing strains of harmony, glints 
 of sunbeams, culled from God's great volume of 
 sunlight. Yet, however comforting these leaflets of 
 suggestions are, we draw our buckets fullest of the 
 cool, clear waters of refreshment when they come to 
 us straight from the " wells of salvation," " the brook 
 by the way," to which the Lord guides us, as He 
 always does if we remember that when He sets us 
 apart by illness, and we humbly submit and trust, 
 He himself will minister unto us, will comfort us 
 with the very comfort we most need. 
 
 " He will minister to you." I do not think Sunday 
 will be lonely, will be a trial, if you remember 
 that. 
 
 " Look up," and say it softly, and I think you will 
 find God will lead you to the " inner church," where, 
 
^4 
 
 JO IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 as a quaint German writer says, " He can serve up 
 a better table than any preacher, and He will fill 
 you if you are hungry," only remember, that hunger 
 must be the hunger after righteousness. 
 
 And now do you tell me, I have done as I have 
 done before, spoken only to the better part of your 
 spiritual life, that I have left untouched the im- 
 patience of heart, the weariness, of which you com- 
 plain, and, above all, your restless desire for activity 
 of service ? 
 
 One answer will reply, an answer I may repeat in 
 well-nigh every letter I write, for the plaint of your 
 words is as daily recurring to almost all invalids, as 
 the dawning of morning light. 
 
 Have you not a service ? are you not serving the 
 Lord in a different way, but just as actively, as the 
 one who is speeding from sunrise to sunset on errands 
 of mercy ? For, is not patience in sickness a terrible 
 activity of the will ? Think out that, and what the 
 attainment of such patience means, and I think you 
 will never complain again that you want service for 
 the Lord. " Possess your soul in patience." Ah ! 
 we can not do that without bearing many a scar, 
 many a bruise from the conflict, even though it be 
 encompassed by the simple command comprised in 
 " Lie still, my child, and wait, be patient, submit 
 
SUNDA Y DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 7 l 
 
 L 
 
 thy will to God's will," — a command that seems so 
 easy, and yet that is so hard to obey. 
 And remember, too, 
 
 " Nor serve we only when we gird 
 Our hearts for special ministry ; 
 That creature best has ministered, 
 Which is what it was meant to be. 
 
 " Birds, by being glad, their Maker bless, 
 By simply shining, sun and star, 
 And we, whose law is love, serve less 
 By what we do, than what we are." 
 
 For farewell, I want to give you a thought from 
 Bickersteth, that I think will help fill an hour of 
 weariness. " I once tried," he writes, " to call to my 
 recollection all the happiest scenes of earth, and 
 then, taking my Bible, looked to see whether they 
 were used to prefigure the good things to come, 
 and I found that in every case Holy Scripture had 
 appropriated the figure." I give you but one ex- 
 ample, — a happy home, — " In my Father's house are 
 many mansions," for I want to copy for you, too, this 
 " invalid's nosegay," that drifted to me long ago. 
 Do not look out the verses till next Sunday morning, 
 and then remember that it is fitly named, for every 
 
^A 
 
 7'^ 
 72 
 
 IN THE SUA DO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 verse, like every flower, holds a fragrance of its own, 
 and you know the odor of the flowers is so marked, 
 even the blind can tell the sweetness of a rose from 
 the perfume of a lily, the odor of a pink from 
 the fragrance of a violet, just as the heart of 
 faith knows the special dearness of the Bible words. 
 So ponder them well, and then, when you are too 
 weak to do more than faintly think of them, you 
 will find their fragrance in your heart. 
 
 "What azleth thee?' 
 When sick . 
 When weary 
 When weak . 
 When oppressed 
 When tempted 
 When apprehensive of judg 
 ment .... 
 
 AN INVALID S NOSEGAY. 
 
 Judges xviii. 24. 
 
 John xi. 3 ; 2 Cor. v. 1. 
 
 Isaiah xxxii. 2 ; Matthew xi. 28. 
 
 Isaiah xl. 29 ; Isaiah xxvi. 4. 
 
 Isaiah xxxviii. 14 ; Psalm lv. 22. 
 
 Isaiah i. 16; 1 Cor. x. 13. 
 
 Romans viii. 31-34; Psalm 
 ciii. 13, 14; 2 Tim. iv. 8. 
 
 Ponder each, and tie all up with Faith. 
 

 THE MINISTRY OF FLOWERS. 
 " Flowers are the smiles of God's goodness." 
 
 " In all places, then, and in all seasons, 
 
 Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 
 Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
 How akin they are to human things. 
 
 " And with childlike, credulous affection, 
 We behold their tender buds expand ; 
 Emblems of our own great resurrection, 
 Emblems of the bright and better land." 
 
 (73) 
 
±>iK 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF FLOWERS. 
 
 " In the bright flowerets 
 Stand the revelation of God's love." 
 
 I often wonder if those who send flowers into 
 sick-rooms fully realize the beautiful mission of their 
 gifts. — I might almost say sacred mission, for verily 
 flowers always bring with them something more 
 than their own beauty and fragrance, — that precious 
 something that speaks of the all-pervading love of 
 Him who considered the "lilies of the field." 
 
 Yet while I say "always bring," I find myself 
 questioning, — Do you find all the pleasure and 
 profit you might, dear F., blossoming out of the fair 
 blooms that kind friends send to brighten your room 
 with beauty and fragrance ? 
 
 Querying thus, I send you a page from the expe- 
 rience of Emily Mills (my invalid neighbor), believ- 
 ing, as I do, that those who know weariness and 
 languor, best know how to hint heart-cheer and 
 diversion of thought to the weary and languid. 
 
 Emily has been an invalid for many months ; sea- 
 (75) 
 
^1 /1 . - 
 
 76 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 son has followed season, and still she is shut away 
 from the glad outer world of sunshine and blooming 
 flowers. 
 
 But though for herself she can gather neither 
 violet or lily-bell, many are the kind hearts that re- 
 member her, many the willing hands that bring from 
 woodland, meadow, and garden, fair blossoms to 
 make glad her quiet room. 
 
 Thus, on the table by her lounge stand vases, 
 holding not only rare blooms, but wild flowers, too. 
 
 "I find so much pleasure in them," she said, add- 
 ing, with a smile : 
 
 "Do you ever think how almost every one is 
 freighted with some tender association, linking it to 
 the common name by which we now call it, — if so 
 fair a thing as one of God's. flowers can be called 
 common! Think," she continued, "how even the 
 tiny blue-eyed forget-me-not asserts a claim to its 
 title, that dates backward far into the years." 
 
 Then playfully she told the simple story of the 
 naming of the blue flower, that every summer-tide 
 sings its song to some one, murmuring, 
 
 " Forget me not, forget me not." 
 A dear, request-ladened murmur, for so sweet a 
 
N ^ 
 
 ~7f~T 
 THE MINISTR Y OF FLO WERS. yy 
 
 thing it is to be remembered by those we love, and 
 those who love us. 
 
 So sweet, so dear a thing, truly much of life's dis- 
 cipline it takes, before we become reconciled to the 
 
 words of Scotland's poet : 
 
 "Only remembered by what I have done." 
 
 For somehow, we do want to be remembered, not so 
 much by what we "do" as by what we "are." 
 
 And yet, are they not both one, — for is not what 
 we do, the outgrowth of what we are ? 
 
 Emily spoke, too, of the peaceful thoughts that 
 cluster about the pansy violet, which in England 
 they call the Heart's-ease, revealing, by the name, 
 "the close connection between tender human feeling 
 and this flower," toward which even men of science 
 have a touch of poetry. 
 
 "For they will not call a pansy a pansy, but they 
 call it viola tricolor, and some of them have even 
 fanced viola came from the heifer Io, which fed on 
 violets and golden-leaved flowers of the mead." 
 
 But Emily's words had most of meaning to me, as 
 I think they will to you, when she said : 
 
 " I find a double pleasure, too, smiling from 
 flowers, when I link them with some thought or song 
 
X 
 
 78 
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 of the poets, for then, when they fade, I have still the 
 song to sing in my heart." 
 
 And her eyes rested lovingly on the "poet's 
 corner" of her well-ladened book- shelves, as she 
 added : 
 
 " The songs I find are, many of them, so full of 
 comfort and sweetness when I am tired, they breathe 
 refreshment to me, like the breath of June wind that 
 blows from over gardens of roses and lilies." 
 
 By way of illustration, I cull and send you, as a 
 faint hint of this double flower-pleasure, a poet's 
 song or two, brought to memory by the blossoms 
 on which my eyes fall, as I lift them from my paper. 
 
 There are violets on my table, reminding that 
 
 " God does not send us strange flowers every year "; 
 
 and a knot of carnations, red and white, which 
 straightway bring to mind the sacred verses : 
 
 " Red, red as the blood 
 
 That poured its crimson tide 
 From the heart that bled and broke for us, 
 
 From our Saviour's riven side : 
 The blood that made our peace, 
 
 That washed away our stains, 
 That bought for tried and weary hearts 
 
 The Rest that aye remains. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF FLOWERS. 
 
 " White, white as the soul 
 
 That is washed in the cleansing tide, 
 Clothed in Christ's robe of Righteousness, 
 
 Sanctified, justified ; 
 Breathing the fragrance sweet 
 
 Of a pure and spotless life, 
 To Him who won us, to Him who crowns 
 
 The victors in the strife. 
 
 " Beautiful, fragrant bloom 
 
 On a warped, unsightly tree, 
 All the beauty in Thee, O Christ ! 
 
 The ugliness in me ; 
 Wonderful, wonderful Lord ! 
 
 Who died for these souls of ours ; 
 And then, to melt our hearts with love, 
 
 Tells us the tale in flowers." 
 
 But I must not bind a garland of flower-songs for 
 you. — For is not half the pleasure of pleasure found 
 in the winning it by one's own effort ? 
 
 And yet I would fain whisper, as you seek them, 
 remember, 
 
 " The Lilies say, ' O, trust Him ! 
 
 We neither toil nor spin, 
 
 And yet His house of beauty 
 
 See how we enter in.' 
 
 79 
 
^4 - - — 
 
 Z\!t±±. 
 
 3 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 While- 
 
 And- 
 
 " 'His word is like to honey,' 
 The clover testifies, 
 ' And all who trust His promise 
 Shall in His love abide.' 
 
 " And let us • follow Jesus,' 
 
 The star of Bethlehem says, 
 While all the band of flowers 
 Bend down with reverent head. 
 
 " The glad sunflower answering, 
 And little daisies bright, 
 And all the cousin asters 
 ' We follow to the light.' 
 
 " ' Hosanna in the highest,' 
 The baby bluets sing ; 
 And little trembling harebells 
 With softest music ring. 
 
 " ' The winter hath been bitter, 
 But sunshine follows storm : 
 Thanks for His loving-kindness, 
 The earth's great heart is warm. 
 
 " ' Thank God for every weather, — 
 The sunshine and the wet,' 
 Speak out the cheery pansies, 
 And darling mignonette." 
 
±± 
 
 7W.£ MINI ST R Y OF FLO WERS. % i 
 
 You hardly need to be reminded, dear F., that you 
 can find these songs in poets' pages from Chaucer 
 on to the present time. 
 
 As, led by them, you tread the flower-strewn path- 
 way that leads down through the years to the open 
 gate of now, do not forget to tarry awhile amid the 
 blossoms of Shakespeare's garden, 
 
 " Wherein the wild thyme blows, 
 Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, 
 Quite overshadowed with luscious woodbine, 
 With sweet musk roses, and with eglantine," 
 
 and you may gather there a hand full, perchance a 
 heart full, too, of Shakespeare's own flowers, " pan- 
 sies for thought, rosemary for remembrance, blue- 
 veined violets, columbines, and many more." 
 
 Linger, too, among the haunts Wordsworth loved 
 so well, where the primroses and the daisies grew . 
 so thick and fair, — the humble flowers of which he 
 wrote : 
 
 " 'Tis my faith that every flower 
 Enjoys the air it breathes. " 
 
 But let your longest tarrying-place date far back 
 of these earth-learned songs, — back even to the sug- 
 gestive thoughts and symbolisms that blossom out 
 of Bible-mentioned flowers. 
 
XA 
 
 82 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 You will catch my meaning if you but follow the 
 path pointed to by Aaron's rod which budded, 
 " and brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms " 
 (Numbers xvii. 8). 
 
 I learned the other day such a sweet fact regard- 
 ing this almond bloom. 
 
 "It blossoms in January, long before all other 
 vegetation, and the Jews call it 'The Waker,' — 
 ' Awake,' — or ' Watchful,' according as you inter- 
 pret its name. It was their arbor vitae, as it were, 
 and hence the seven-branched candlestick was made 
 like an almond-tree, and this is why God showed 
 Jeremiah (i. 11) an almond-rod." 
 
 You will think, too, of the Galilean hill-slopes, 
 where grew the lilies, — for it is in pondering them 
 you will find the truest, most heart-full comfort- 
 lessons the flowers teach. 
 
 Those lilies ! the thought of which leads me to 
 seal my letter with old Luther's seal, " God writes 
 the Gospel, not in the Bible alone, but on trees and 
 flowers." 
 
HEART TO HEART. 
 
 "CHRISTIANS are like the several flowers in a garden, they 
 have each of them the dew of heaven, which being- shaken 
 with the wind, they let fall at each other's roots, whereby they 
 are jointly nourished, and become nourishers of each other." 
 
 (83) 
 

 HEART TO HEART. 
 
 Often in hours of weakness, when able to " take 
 in " but a brief sentence or two, I have found com- 
 fort from remembering one or another of the rest- 
 full, tender utterances by which heart speaks to 
 heart, and I think you may, too ; and so I propose 
 sending you, in place of a letter, a garland woven of 
 these " comfort-thoughts," among which there is 
 naught of my own save the culling. 
 
 " An emblem," says Quarles, " is a silent parable," 
 and you know my fondness for symbols and types, 
 so will not wonder at my sending you thoughts in 
 suggestion, pictures, as it were, in outline, for you 
 to fill up with meanings to meet your own special 
 needs. 
 
 Here is one : 
 
 "There is a classic story, that a fire once ran over 
 the Pyrenean mountains, destroying all the vine- 
 yards of the inhabitants. — But — as the villagers 
 mourned for their vines, they discovered that the 
 
 (35) 
 
f-ee 
 
 86 
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 fire which had destroyed their grapes had opened, 
 by its heat, deep fissures in the rocks, through which 
 gleamed rich veins of silver ! " 
 
 I sometimes have thought we let slip from us the 
 significance of many a story like the above, histori- 
 cal, classical, and scriptural too, from the mistaken 
 fear that there may be something fanciful, and per- 
 chance unreal in seeking to know the meaning of 
 the lines, 
 
 " Two worlds are ours, 'tis only sin 
 Forbids us to descry 
 The mystic heaven and earth within, 
 Plain as the sea and sky." 
 
 I say mistaken fear, for surely it must be uplifting 
 to heart and mind to thus seek the twofold, for in 
 doing it, we follow the "pattern set in the Mount." 
 
 Think how " God taught Israel by symbols, all of 
 which pointed to Christ and His kingdom, and 
 hence became typical." 
 
 It is Adolphe Saphir who writes : " How much 
 the mind of the deepest and most spiritual believer 
 dwells on symbols and types, is seen by the fact of 
 the Gospel of John containing more references to 
 the symbols of Scripture than any other portion of 
 the Word." 
 
HEART TO HEART. %j 
 
 When you are strong enough, look them out, for 
 they lead through pleasant paths. By way of a sign- 
 post, I point you to a few of them : " Observe the 
 symbol of the light, of servant and son, chapter 8th ; 
 in chapter ioth, the parables of the door, the sheep- 
 fold, the hireling, the shepherd, the twofold flock ; 
 chapter nth, resurrection, the spiritual and the 
 real ; chapter 12th, the great parable of the corn of 
 wheat ; chapters 14th and 16th, the Father's house 
 with many mansions, the vine, the Friend laying 
 down his life, and the friends treated with confi- 
 dence." 
 
 But I must return to the thought bits, the green 
 pastures I promised you. 
 
 I will begin by Mrs. Tate's (have you read her 
 memoir?) "comfort-text," for it is verily an invalid's 
 promise. 
 
 "Who is among you that walketh in darkness and 
 hath no light ? Let him trust in the name of the 
 Lord, and stay upon his God." 
 
 Remember, — " A trustful heart strengthens to the 
 
 last ; and to the last we will trust, and to us joys 
 
 shall be the will of God, and so shall pains and sor- 
 rows be, and, no less than birth, death shall be 
 
 His will ; and in it we will rejoice always, though 
 sometimes, perhaps, not without trembling." 
 
8 
 
 8 IN THE SUA JDO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 And yet, 
 
 " The unknown, which men call Heaven, is close 
 behind this visible scene of things." 
 
 " Death is another life. We bow our heads 
 At going out, we think, and enter straight 
 Another golden chamber of the King's, 
 Larger than this we leave, and lovelier." 
 
 Robertson says : 
 
 "We are conquerors of death, when we are able to 
 look beyond it." 
 
 Think of that Beyond! 
 
 " There thou shalt walk in soft, white light, with kings and 
 priests abroad, 
 And thou shalt summer high in bliss upon the hills of God." 
 
 Old Luther writes : 
 
 " He is the God, not of the dead, but of the living. 
 Therefore it is impossible that the good should alto- 
 gether die. They must live eternally — otherwise 
 God would not be their God." 
 
 " O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is 
 thy victory ? The sting of death is sin — but thanks 
 be to God, which giveth us the victory, through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
HEART TO HEART. 
 
 " Let the angel take thy hand, 
 
 And lead thee up the misty stair ; 
 And then with beating - heart await 
 The opening of the Golden Gate." 
 
 89 
 
 IK 
 
 "The greater the faith and patience that God's 
 servants manifest, the more evident the work of 
 His Spirit." 
 
 " The grace of patience ! — It is well to have grace 
 of stillness that comes like dew, and sinks to the 
 roots of all that is within us." 
 
 " Strengthless, helpless, what must I do? Do 
 nothing. Have patience ! Take it from the God of 
 Patience, who gives it to His distressed children, 
 and wait ! " 
 
 " The hardest lesson of strength," — u Their strength 
 is to sit still" (Isaiah xxx. 7). 
 
 And what then ? Why, the learning the full 
 
 meaning of that verse, Col. i. 11, "Strengthened 
 with all might according to His glorious power, 
 unto all patience and long-suffering, with joyful- 
 ness." 
 
 Let no one expect dying grace until he needs to 
 

 go IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 use it, until he is dying. " As thy day, — thy need, — 
 so shall thy strength be." 
 
 " Teach us to wait until Thou shalt appear — 
 
 To know that all Thy ways and times are just ; 
 Thou seest that we do believe and fear ; 
 Lord, make us also to believe and trust !" 
 
 " The fellowship of our Lord's suffering." — Have 
 you dwelt in hours of pain on that thought? 
 
 "Why does Saint Paul so rejoice, so delight him- 
 self in weakness, in affliction, but because he knows 
 that without these he can attain to no close intimacy 
 with his beloved Lord." 
 
 "I took," said Luther, "for the symbol of my the- 
 ology a seal, on which I had engraven a cross, with 
 a heart in its center ; the cross is black, to indicate 
 the sorrows through which the Christian must pass, 
 but the heart preserves its natural color, for the 
 cross does not extinguish nature, but gives life. — 
 The heart is placed in the midst of a white rose, 
 which signifies the joy, peace, and consolation that 
 faith gives ; but the rose is white, and not red, be- 
 cause it is not the joy and peace of the world, but 
 that of spirits." 
 
^~ 
 
 
 HEART TO HEART. 
 
 91 
 
 Remember, — "It is to the cross that the heart 
 must turn for that which will reconcile it to sorrow, 
 sickness, and weariness." 
 
 " What else can rock the waves of the soul to rest 
 but the Voice of Him who, at the fourth watch of 
 the night, when the darkness is deepest, comes, 
 saying, ' Fear not, it is I ; be not afraid ! ' " 
 
 Do you tell me I began my letter by saying I 
 would give you brief sentences of cheer, and, instead, 
 I am sending well-nigh pages of thought ? 
 
 If thus you say, call these lengthened extracts the 
 roses and the sunflowers, the hollyhocks and stately 
 lilies of my garland, which, for conclusion, I will 
 intertwine with flowers of smaller size, but not of 
 less beauty and fragrance. — So find, in these last 
 cullings, violets and heart's-ease, snowdrops and 
 crocuses, primroses and daisies, cowslips and 
 myrtles. 
 
 " Heaven is for those who think of it." 
 
 "God illumines those who think often of Him, 
 and who lift their eyes toward Him." 
 
 " God's comforts are always greater than our 
 troubles." 
 
Q2 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 " Life rests in the hand of God, and He is able to 
 help us out of all distress, however great and deep." 
 
 Remember, "He has graven thee upon the palms 
 of His Hands." 
 
 " Peace and quiet even can dwell with pain." 
 
 " If you are ' in Christ ' you are in a fortress, and 
 God's own Peace, — the gentlest of sentries, — keeps 
 watch and ward at the gates of this all-glorious 
 stronghold." 
 
 " The Lord has His sick ones, — and He often 
 chastens with sickness/^j 1 / because He loves." 
 
 " Think of Him who loves thee, who loved thee 
 into this sickness, and will love thee through it." 
 
 " O Way, through which our souls draw near 
 
 To yon eternal Home of Peace, 
 Where perfect love shall cast out fear, 
 
 And earth's vain toil and wanderings cease ; 
 In strength or weakness may we see 
 Our heavenward path, O Lord, through Thee." 
 
7\ 
 
 \£ 
 
 1 
 
 PLEASURES. 
 
 " GOD gives us happiness through ourselves ; we are made 
 happy by what we are, not by what we have'' 
 
 "Joy is the sign and ornament of gratitude, — faith without 
 joy is an altar without incense." 
 
 " The sorrow which God appoints is purifying and enno- 
 bling, and contains within it a serious joy." 
 
 (93) 
 
^> 
 
 i 
 
 PLEASURES. 
 
 " We think we have only half what life should have brought 
 
 us, and we must go on always with a sense of loss, the 
 
 yearning without the answer. But there is the whole beyond, 
 beyond the waiting— and behind it." 
 
 You ask me for a leaflet not on work and patience, 
 submission and endurance. You write : " Point me 
 to pleasures, — invalids' pleasures, — if there are such 
 things ! " 
 
 Most certainly there are, dear F., and yet I can 
 not make them yours by the mere telling ; you must 
 find them for yourself, not by a forced saying of " I 
 will," but by following — it may be a bit slowly at 
 first — the gentle leadings that come to almost all in- 
 valids, — and that in time open out into real pleas- 
 ures, as the bud opens into a full-blown flower. 
 
 To an invalid like you, content with your lot, 
 because God orders it, and He knows, must be, I 
 think, the initial letter in the heart's seeking after 
 pleasure. 
 
 That spiritual seeking, that is indicated by words 
 
 (95) 
 
g6 
 
 9 ( 
 
 full of meaning, rather than single consonants and 
 vowels. 
 
 Content, — yes, surely, it is the key-note of pleasure ; 
 but it is not so much of the deeper spiritual expe- 
 riences, I think, you want me to tell, as of what may 
 be termed surface pleasures, the surroundings 
 which, like the atmosphere, enfold our days. 
 
 Not long ago, I came across a practical thought 
 on this daily content, which I send you ; for, though, 
 on first reading you may shake your head in dis- 
 agreement, as you recall your feeble strength, and 
 contrast it with your friend's vigor, your days of 
 seclusion and apparent uselessness, contrasted with 
 her busy hours of social life and active employment, 
 — that twin sister to enjoyment, — I think, after all, 
 you will in the end assent to it. 
 
 — " Perhaps it is the surest road to content to look 
 at those who are more happy than oneself, and con- 
 sider if what makes them so happy, would make 
 oneself equally so. — I believe the honest answer 
 would be, No." 
 
 And I believe so, too, for I believe we all, if 
 
 we allow ourselves to believe and recognize it, have 
 blessings in our lives, however full of pain and dis- 
 appointed hopes they may be, that make us ready 
 to say, we would not change with another, if we had 
 
PLEASURES. gy 
 
 to give up all, — for as every heart knoweth its own 
 bitterness, so every heart knoweth its own joys and 
 comforts. 
 
 But to feel thus, one must let go self-pity, which 
 is such a persistent companion in an invalid's life, 
 so intrusive and subtle, that it finds its way into the 
 heart, quicker, even, than a sunbeam finds entrance 
 through a half-drawn blind. 
 
 And now, the hint or two, for which you ask. 
 First, — remember, much of your present enjoyment 
 must be by proxy. 
 
 This may seem hard, but if you try, you will soon 
 learn the secret of being happy in the enjoyment of 
 others, and it is a pleasure that spreads, till it em- 
 braces a neighbor's joy as something for oneself, till 
 sitting by an open window and catching the voices 
 of children at play brings a smile; but, as to enumer- 
 ating the pleasures thus open to an invalid, — because, 
 — it is such a happy thing to know of happiness, — 
 why, I can not, they are so many. 
 
 This thought is tenderly expressed in George 
 Eliot's words : 
 
 " It makes a large part of one's calm and comfort 
 in this difficult world, to think of the lots of those 
 we know, as free from any hard pangs of either sor- 
 row, or bodily pain." 
 7 
 
XA 
 
 98 IN THE SHADO W OF HIS HAND. 
 
 Another pleasure I call peculiarly an invalid's, is 
 the intimate learning of the good, the sweet kindli- 
 ness, that is so universal, and that shines out so 
 tenderly toward the sick and suffering, — a sacred 
 pleasure this, because surely it is a sign of Him, 
 who made " man in His own likeness " — a sign re- 
 vealed to none so often, I think, as to invalids. 
 
 " Pity called akin to Love " — and God is Love. 
 Truly it is oftentimes like an Alpine flower, a blos- 
 som out of the snow that we call cold, as it blooms 
 in deed of kindness, from hearts that have seemed 
 stern, and indifferent, till touched by its sunbeam. 
 
 Why, I could fill pages with tender recollections, 
 homely prose poems, of the kindness that I have 
 known spring into warmth of action, and sympathy, 
 — because, — " she is sick." 
 
 Rich and poor, learned and unlearned, all respond 
 to that plea. 
 
 But hints, they are all I mean to give you, for I 
 repeat, the heart must be its own sunshine maker, 
 its own pleasure finder, and you, dear F., will, I 
 know, not be backward in finding rifts in the clouds 
 that oppress you, even though just now, in your 
 hours of pain and weakness, you catch mere glints 
 of brightness, in place of full noonday light. 
 

 PLEASURES. 
 
 99 
 
 Only hints, I said, and yet, I can not say farewell 
 without adding one word on the dearest pleasure 
 of all, most sacred among them, the holy privilege 
 of prayer. I can not whisper good-bye, without 
 adding, "Do not forget, dear, in your seeking for 
 cheer, for these days of illness, — that at the best 
 must know hours of weariness and longing, — the 
 bow of promise, with which you, and all invalids 
 may span the now." 
 
 The beautiful promise, verily woven of rainbow 
 colors, sunshine on tears. The promise of the There, 
 where in "God's presence is fullness of joy, at His 
 right hand there are pleasures for evermore " (Ps. 
 xvi. n). 
 
 I almost hear you say : 
 
 " It is easy to write thus, but so hard to live it." 
 
 Yes, dear, I know, — I know it is easy to preach, 
 hard to practice, but I think it will be easier, if " in- 
 stead of asking Jesus to help you do it, — you ask 
 Him to do it for you." 
 
 For, — only " He can write straight on crooked 
 lines." 
 
^> 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 INVALIDS' PILLOWS. 
 
 " REST, Weary heart ! 
 From all thy silent griefs and secret pain, 
 Thy profitless regrets and longings vain ; 
 Wisdom and love have ordered all the past, 
 All shall be blessedness and light at last ; 
 Cast off the cares that have so long oppressed, 
 Rest, sweetly rest ! " 
 
 " Under His wings shalt thou trust." 
 
 IOI 
 
M 
 
 » 
 
 INVALIDS' PILLOWS. 
 
 " God is Love. A soft pillow, that, on which to 
 
 repose." 
 
 " He giveth His Beloved sleep." 
 
 H ope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure 
 
 and steadfast (Heb. vi. 19). 
 E ven Jesus. — (Heb. vi. 20). 
 
 G od hath comforted His people, and will have 
 
 mercy upon His afflicted (Isaiah xlix. 13). 
 / the Lord hath called thee in righteousness, and 
 
 will hold thine hand, and will keep thee (Isaiah 
 
 xlii. 6). 
 Ferily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on 
 
 Me, hath everlasting life (John vi. 47). 
 E ven every one that is called by My name (Isaiah 
 
 xliii. 7). 
 T he eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are 
 
 the everlasting arms (Deut. xxxiii. 27). 
 H e will swallow up death in victory, and will wipe 
 
 away tears (Isaiah xxv. 8). 
 
 (103) 
 
& 4 * _^ 
 
 104 IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND. 
 
 He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up 
 
 their wounds (Psalm cxlvii. 3). 
 / know the thoughts that I think toward you, 
 
 saith the Lord, — thoughts of peace (Jer. xxix. 
 
 11). 
 
 S urely He shall deliver thee, — Thou shalt not be 
 afraid (Psalm xci. 3, 5). 
 
 B ehold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear 
 
 Him, upon them that hope in His mercy, to 
 
 deliver their soul from death (Psalm xxxiii. 
 
 18, 19). 
 E ven the heat, with the shadow of a cloud, shall be 
 
 brought low (Isaiah xxv. 5). 
 L et us hold fast the profession of our faith — for He 
 
 is faithful that promised (Heb. x. 23). 
 O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and 
 
 knowledge of God (Rom. xi. ^7>)- 
 Fain is the help of man; through God we shall do 
 
 valiantly (Psalm lx. 11). 
 E ye hath not seen, nor ear heard, the things which 
 
 God hath prepared for them that love Him (1 
 
 Cor. ii. 9). 
 D eath is swallowed up in victory (1 Cor. xv. 54). 
 
INVALIDS' PILLOWS. I0 
 
 S o shall we ever be with the Lord (i Thess. iv. 17). 
 L et not your heart be troubled, neither let it be 
 
 afraid (John xiv. 27). 
 E ver, O Lord, Thy word is settled in Heaven, Thy 
 
 faithfulness is unto all generations (Psalm cxix. 
 
 89, 90). 
 E ven eternal life (1 John ii. 25). 
 P eace, be still (Mark iv. 39). 
 
 " We know that never a creature in pain 
 Addressed a prayer to God's mercy in vain. 
 Time has no line that His hand may not smooth, 
 Life has no grief that His love can not soothe ; 
 And the fevered brow shall have rest at last ; 
 In the healing shade from the death-cross cast. 
 Look up / . . . . Why shouldest thou weep ? 
 The Lord giveth aye to His loved ones sleep." 
 
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