A BELIEVING PRAYING MOTHER. 129 received a letter from her daughter, dated two o'clock on the Sabbath, informing her that on that day, and at that hour, she had resolved to give her heart to Christ, intending to ask admission to the Church at the next communion. Strange to say, at the very moment when the believing, praying mother was writing her application for prayers for that child, she was announcing her own conversion. The mother's strong faith in God, at that moment in lively exercise, was thus honoured. An invalid in her sick room was asked the question, "Are you a child of God?" The question planted a new thorn in her pillow. She could not rest, but tossed in agony till, early in the morning, the words came into her mind : "Come unto ME, and I will give you rest," and she rested there. She believed the promise, went to Christ, and found rest and salvation in Him. Then she could realize that by faith in Jesus she was one of God's adopted children. Trials in various forms are often sent as sweet preliminaries to a work of grace in the soul. "Now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations; that the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the K 130 THE GREAT REFINER'S FIRES. appearing of Jesus Christ: whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory: receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls.” 1 Peter i. 6-9. Fear not then the furnace, for He lights it, To purify the gold, and purge away Wondrous thought! few amid the throng Go upwards; pass along their bright array, Of a vain, a transient world. God struck me down ; Spread the eclipse of death! 'Deep called to deep,' But 'All is well.' Each trial did but sever The earthly tie, to rivet me to heaven ; Another one can tell : "I loved my gold; Corrodes, nor moth corrupts ; laid up in Christ THE LAND WHOSE ATMOSPHERE IS LOVE. 131 'Riches unsearchable' beyond the wealth Of worlds!" 66 Another there can tell : The sun Of earth too brightly shone, and with false glow The lustre intercepted of a land Whose atmosphere is love. Upon a couch And nights of pain were mine. Now for each stroke I praise Him! It was needful discipline To win my spirit from the shadowy dreams Of a vain world. The Harp which when on earth, Its new strung chords, to own the faithfulness Exceptions rare there may, indeed, be found Not in the fire, but by the "still small voice" Prepared. |