By the Editor.
My Dear Friends,
I am going to print for you three letters about the article in February “MESSAGE” “The Mocking of the Children.” So many have felt the solemnity of these days as regards the young. I have been also greatly cheered by the letters I have received from many friends. In the midst of sorrow and affliction He giveth His joy, and when He gives peace, then all is peace. A dear friend sent me the following verses, for which I thanked God: ―
In the Furnace.
He sat by a fire of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore,
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.
He knew He had ore that would stand the test,
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems of a price untold.
So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would have said Him “nay,”
And He watched the dross we had not seen,
And it melted and passed away.
And the gold grew brighter, and yet more bright,
But our eves were so dim with tears,
We saw but the fire—not the Master’s hand―
And questioned with anxious fears.
Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow,
As it mirrored a Form above
That bent o’er the fire, the’ unseen by us,
With a look of infinite love.
Can we think that it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment’s pain?
Ah, no; but He saw through the present grief
The bliss of eternal gain.
So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.
Anon.