SORROW'S TEACHINGS."HOW is it," said I, despondingly, to Aunt Milly, "that you, who have been steeped to the lips in trouble, can be so cheerful?" "Listen to me, Ellen. You know my first great sorrow,—the loss of my husband. When the grave closed over him, the star of hope faded from my sky. I could see no mercy in the Hand that dealt that blow. The green earth became one wide sepulchre; the sweet ministrations of nature had no healing power. In my selfish despair, I would have shrouded the blue heavens in sable, and thrown a pall of gloom over every happy heart. Months passed by slowly, wearily, and I found no alleviation of my sorrow; no tears came to ease that dull, dead pain that seemed crushing the life from out my heart; no star of Bethlehem shone through the dark cloud over my head. "I was sitting one afternoon, as usual, motionless and speechless.
It was dark and gloomy without, as my soul within. The driving sleet
beat heavily against the windows. Twilight had set in. My little
Charley had patiently tried for hours to amuse himself with his toys,
now and then glancing sadly at my mournful face. But the oppressive gloom was becoming unendurable to the child. At length, creeping slowly to my side, and leaning heavily against my shoulder, he said, in a half sob, 'Does God love to see you look so, mamma?' "'No, no, Charley!' said I, as I clasped him to my heart with repentant tears. 'No, no!—I'll cloud your sunny face no longer.' "Alas, dear Ellen, I but turned from one idol to another;—I gave God the second place, and lived only for my boy; and so my wayward heart needed another lesson. The grave took in my last earthly treasure. But when the Smiter had done his work, those little lips, though silent, still said to me, 'God loveth the cheerful giver;' and so, smiling through my tears, I learned to say, 'Thy will be done.' Dear Ellen, if the good Father takes away with one hand, he gives with the other. There is always some blessing left. 'Ilka blade of grass keeps its ain drap o' dew!'" |