lessed. When sorrow comes upon us,
unless we have something more than natural strength bestowed upon us, we
are all but certain, like fractious children when beaten, to kick and
plunge and scream, or to take the infliction of the sorrow as being an
affront and an injury. If we have any claim to this benediction, we must
earn it by accepting our sorrows; then the accepted sorrow becomes a
solemn joy, or almost akin thereto. The ox that kicks against the goads
only does two things thereby; it does not get away from them, but it
wounds its own hocks, and it drives the sharp points deeper into the
ragged wounds. Let Him strike, dear friend, for when He strikes He cuts
clean; and there is no poison on the edge of His knife. Meekness towards
God is, first, patient endurance of His Will.

And, in reference to Him, it is, next, unquestioning docility and
obedience. Its seat is in the will. When the will is bowed, a man is far
on his road to perfection; and the meaning of all that God does with
us--joys and sorrows, light and darkness, when His hand gives, and when
His hand withdraws, as when His authoritative voice commands, and the
sweet impulses of His love graciously constrain--is that our wills may
be made plastic and flexible, like a piece of wrought leather, to every
touch of His hand. True meekness goes far deeper down than any attitude
towards men. It lays hold on the sovereign will of God as our supreme
good, and delights in absolutely and perfectly conforming itself
thereto.

And then there follows, as a matter of course, that which is usually the
whole significance of the word, the meekness which is displayed in our
attitude towards men. The truly meek heart remains unprovoked amidst all
provocation. Most men are like dogs that answer bark for bark, and only
make night hideous and themselves hoarse thereby. But it is our business
to meet evil with good; and the more we are depreciated, the more we are
harmed, the more we are circled about by malice and by scorn, the more
patiently and persistently to love on.

Ah, brethren, it is easy to say and hard to do thus; but it is a plain
Christian duty. Old-fashioned people believe that the sun puts out the
fire. I know not how that may be, but sure I am that the one thing that
puts out the fire of antagonism and wrath and malice in those who
dislike or would harm us is that we should persistently shine upon, and
perchance overcome, evil with good. Provoked, we remain, if