5
5
And so once more we stay our hearts upon our Refuge and Strength, who is our very present help in trouble. Therefore, most blessed therefore, we will not fear; for there are always two pines on the hillside of life. One day the last wind will blow. Wind can blow dust in the eyes, but that dust will not blind us: “Yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold and not another, not a stranger.”
What will it be to see Him whom I have known so long but never seen before? To adore His beauty, to worship Him in holiness; to see Him crowned with glory and honor who was wounded, bruised, oppressed, afflicted, who showed them His hands and His side and said unto them, “Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself”—what will it be to see Him and not another, not a stranger?
What will it be to serve in perfect purity and in untiring vigor? to see no more through a glass darkly, to grope no more on the edge of knowledge, but to press on into that kingdom to which no frontier is set? to see with new eyes, to hear with new ears, to know no more in part but even as also we are known?
What will it be when Faith and Hope fade out of sight and only Love is left? What will it be? We cannot tell. We do not know. Only this we know: the travail of the journey is not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed to usward, even to usward, though we be the least of the redeemed.
It is the Blessed One and no other who stands by us on the hill when the storm descends upon us. (O Christ, hadst Thou not suffered, how couldst Thou help us now?) And He who suffered and who overcame will grant to us also to overcome. I can think of no truer picture of what we want to be when the wind beats on us for the last time, than this pine, broken and battered, but not uprooted, standing steadfast, undefeated—and not alone.
And now, O my soul, settle it with thyself that thou wilt listen to no hard reports which the ills of this present time may make to thee concerning thy Lord, for “Nothing can come wrong from my Lord in His sweet working.” Not clouds and dark woods, for they are lighted; not the deep ravine, for it leads to the heights; not snow, for it can be cherished; not ruin, for “He can make one web of contraries”; not rough waters, for they cannot overflow me; not steep mountains, for when I said, “My foot slippeth,” Thy mercy, O Lord, held me up; not dark woods again, for I do not build my nest in any tree on earth; not walls, for they have windows; not storms, for they cannot uproot me; not loneliness, for I am not alone. “Only be thou strong and very courageous”: this is Thy word to me, O Lord. “As I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee nor forsake thee. Be strong and of a good courage.” Courage that dares, fortitude that endures—without these I am a reed shaken with the wind. Surely fortitude is the sovereign virtue of life; not patience, though we need it too, but fortitude. O God, give me fortitude.
*****
With this my message ends. The next page is only an afterword for the traveler, perhaps quite a young traveler, who has reached the place where the blackbird is singing:
The blackbird sings to him, “Brother, brother,
If this be the last song you shall sing,
Sing well, for you may not sing another.
Brother, sing.”
Perhaps for an older one, for whom someone has written this song of faith:
Gone, they tell me, is youth,
Gone is the strength of my life.
Nothing remains but decline,
Nothing but age and decay.
Not so, I’m God’s little child,
Only beginning to live;
Coming the days of my prime,
Coming the strength of my life,
Coming the vision of God,
Coming my bloom and my power.
Our hope is that these eyes shall see our Lord return: “This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven.” This is the hope of hopes, but if it be deferred, then “by Thy holy patience we go to Thee who art our crown.”
In a certain quiet resting-place in Cumberland there is a small grey stone on which is engraved a question and an answer that seem to me perfect in fitness:
Master, where dwellest Thou?
He saith, Come and see.
The picture of the light in the sky and on the water and the words that belong to it are for the happy traveler who may hope soon to “see.”