h is cut from it. . . . Here it is
that Christian faith comes in, putting such interpretation and
explanation upon the painful things, that we may be ready to accept
them with confidence, even with rejoicing. . . . A strong, abiding
confidence that all the trials, sorrows, and losses of our lives are
parts of our Father's husbandry, ought to silence every question, quiet
every fear, and give peace and restful assurance to our hearts in all
their pain. We cannot know the reason for the painful strokes, but we
know that he who holds the pruning-knife is our Father. That ought
always to be enough for us to know.'"

Having quoted these words, he continues: "Now I do not question the
Father's husbandry. I would also 'silence every question' concerning
his wisdom and his love. I would not doubt them for a moment. When I
found that my only son, my pride and my staff, must die, I prayed with
such strong crying and tears as only they can know who are in like
circumstances, yet feeling that I could give back to God what he had
lent me without a murmur. By his help, I believe even the slightest
murmur has been repressed concerning the painful things, and that in
some measure I have been ready to accept them with confidence, even
with rejoicing. But my faith has not come in, as you suggest, to put
'such interpretation and explanation' upon them, as perhaps I ought to
do. Why has God thus dealt with me? Why was a double stroke
necessary? Is his dealing with me purely disciplinary? What are the
lessons he would teach me? How am I to test myself as to whether his
purpose in afflicting me has been accomplished? Or am I not anxiously
to inquire concerning the specific lessons, but rather to let him show
in due time what he designed? Such questions multiply without answer."

Has not this writer in his own last suggestion stated what should be
done by those who are perplexed with questions as to the interpretation
of sorrow? They should not anxiously inquire concerning the specific
lessons, but rather let God show in due time what he designed. No
doubt every sorrow has a mission. It comes to us, as God's messenger,
with a message. If we will welcome it reverently, and be still while
it gives its message, no doubt we shall receive some benediction.

Yet we must look at this whole matter carefully and wisely. We are in
danger of thinking only of ourselves, and of the effect upon us and our
life of the griefs that smit