The reason why I
believe that joy and love will in the end triumph, is because I
have, because we all have, an instinctive desire for them, and a no
less instinctive fear and dread of pain and sorrow. We may, indeed
I believe with all my heart that we shall, emerge from them, but
they are no less assuredly there. We triumph over them, when we
learn to live bravely and courageously in them, when we do not seek
to evade them or to hasten incredulously away from them. We fail,
if we spend our time in repining, in regretting, in wishing the
sweet and tranquil hours of untroubled joy back. We are not strong
enough to desire the cup of suffering, even though we may know that
we must drink it before we can discern the truth. But we may
rejoice with a deep-seated joy, in the dark hours, that the Hand of
God is heavy upon us. When our vital energies flag, when what we
thought were our effective powers languish and grow faint, then we
may be glad because the Father is showing us His Will; and then our
sorrow is a fruitful sorrow, and labours, as the swelling seed
labours in the sombre earth to thrust her slender hands up to the
sun and air. . . .
We two sate long in a corner of the quiet lamp-lit room, talking
like old friends--once or twice our conversation was suspended by
music, which fell like dew upon my parched heart; and though I
could not accept my fellow-pilgrim's thought, I could see in the
glance of her eyes, full of pity and wonder, that we were indeed
faring along the same strange road to the paradise of God.
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