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In that courteous dalliance the inmost thoughts of the heart are understood and answered. You had hoped to burn out, not rust out. You had expected (if the Lord tarried) the natural end of the fighting man. And now you are lapped in softness. You look back at a certain moment which changed everything. But “moment” is too long a word; was it a period of time at all? There came a thunderclap. But no, thunder may rumble for two or three seconds. This was a lightning-flash cleaving straight across the road on which you walked. You shut your eyes instinctively; when you opened them the road looked different. And it was different. Nothing will ever be again as it was before that lightning-flash. This, and this, and this you will never do again. And the road will grow duller and darker with every mile you go—is that your thought?
A Voice speaks within you:
“Things will never be as they were before? That is true; for they will be better.
“You will never do this and this again? That also is true; for I have other things for you to do.
“They are not what you would choose? But they are indeed the best that Love can choose for you.
“The road will grow duller and darker with every mile you go? The path is like a shining light; like the sun that you have watched on many a lovely morning coming out of his chambers and rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. Does the light on that shining racecourse of the sky grow less and less? No, it shineth more and more. So shall the path of My beloved be, not darker, but brighter as it nears the perfect day. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord. This, not that.”
And yet—O Lord, forgive; the things I cannot do are looking in through my window now, and beckoning me, and calling me.
“But I am here in the room with you: I am nearer than those beckoning, calling things. I come between them and you. You have nothing to do, now, but to please Me.” Then, though you may have been trained in the noblest liturgy on earth, you echo the simple words as a young child might, “I have nothing to do now, but to please Thee.” And Thou art not hard to please, O blessed Lover of us all.
There are days when the Lord whom we adore comes marching upon the great highways of life; as a Leader and Commander of His people He comes, as a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall. And all the voices of the world sound forth like the notes of a mighty organ, “Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.” And there are other days when He comes walking without sound or footfall in our gardens. We hear Him then in whispers, softer than the whisper of a light wind on the grass; we know Him present as we know the presence of a fragrant flower in the room—a flower that we cannot see.
Lord God of gardens, who in love disposes
Sun, rain, wind violent,
So that our bushes flower to Thee in roses,
We are content.
We do not ask to choose our garden’s weather,
Too ignorant are we—
Only that we, Thy gardeners, together
May pleasure Thee.