2. In the quietest force — love — there is most power. — You have heard of the old fable which tells how the sun and the wind strove with each other, which of them should first make the traveller divest himself of his cloak. The more fiercely the wind blew, the more firmly the wayfaring man gathered his outer garment about him. But when the sun shone warmly upon him he speedily threw the weighty covering from his shoulders. So antagonism creates antagonism. If you attempt to drag me by force, it is in my nature to resist you, and I will pull against you with all my might ; but if you try to attract me by kindness, it is equally in my nature to yield to its influence, and I will foUov/ you of my own free will. What the hammer will not weld together without fiery heat and prolonged labour, the magnet will bring together and hold together in a moment. So in dealing with men, the mightiest influence is love.
^ I was a lad of fifteen years at the time, an unindentured apprentice on board a large sailing ship which was homeward bound with a cargo of grain from Tacoma, Puget Sound. Not far south of San Francisco we encountered a violent storm which continued without abatement for nearly forty-eight hours. The severe buffeting to which the ship was subjected by the great seas caused the cargo to shift, and the vessel lay with her starboard rail completely submerged. To make matters worse, a spare spar had burst from its fastenings, and to the roar of the elements was added at frequent intervals the thud, thud, of this spar as the sea dashed it like a battering ram against the deck. Our situation was one of extreme peril, and little hope was entertained by captain or crew that the vessel would weather the storm.
In the midst of the storm I felt the awe which the play of destructive forces can inspire. As I considered our danger, these same forces stirred my heart with fear. Loud and terrible, how- ever, as were the voices which spoke to me, their message did not go deep enough to abide. The impression made on me by this ' Charles A. Berry, Zi/e, 266.
I KINGS XIX. II, 12 449
dread experience, though it seemed at the time to be very great, proved to be altogether transient. In a comparatively few hours the storm was by God's mercy stilled, and the ship steered a course for San Francisco. The sense of danger then began to yield to a feeling of security, and my own conduct, as that of the crew generally, was characterized by levity itself. Before the anchor was cast in the beautiful harbour of San Francisco, the storm and danger were only a memory. The solemn ex- perience had left no other sign.
Very different in its effect was the experience of my first hours at home, where I arrived about seven months later. I had deserted my vessel in Frisco, and my relatives did not know where I was or how I had been conducting myself. When I stood before them empty-handed, their fears that all had not been right were quickened ; yet only words of welcome were spoken. Their looks, however, and their voices, had something in them that appealed powerfully to all that was best in me. Their entire attitude had the permanently arresting quality of the " still, small voice." It was love patiently and, as far as possible, cheerfully shouldering the burden of my folly. That experience is more than a memory. The impression it made was deep and abiding. It has long been my conviction that that was the turning-point in my spiritual history. Then was begun in me a work of whose significance I was at the time unconscious; a work which is largely the cause of my being a Christian minister to-day; a work which, by God's grace, shall not stop, even for death.^
Dear Lord and Father of mankind, Forgive our foolish ways !
Eeclothe us in our rightful mind.
In purer lives Thy service find, In deeper reverence, praise.
0 Sabbath rest by Galilee!
0 calm of hills above. Where Jesus knelt to share with thee The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love!
With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown The tender whisper of Thy call. As noiseless let Thy blessing fall, As fell Thy manna down. ^ John M'Neil (Airdrie). DEUT.-ESTH. — 29
450 A STILL SMALL VOICE
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease; Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm ; Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire ; Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm ! ^
ii. Smallness.
The significance of the symbolism portrayed before the despondent prophet was surely that, while comparative impotence may roar in the guise of tempest and fire, Almightiness may move in whispers. Feebleness hides in the apparently overwhelming ; Almightiness hides in apparent impotence. God was in the weak thing ! Elijah left the mount with his conceptions entirely changed.
1. And so we see that we must look for God in the everyday occurrences. We should all like to be spoken to by a prodigy. But the Lord does not often do that. He is too great to do that. It belongs to everything that is really great to act simply. The infinite God does all His works in the simplest manner possible. And the Lord does everything in a way to show His own power. If the machinery were great, the mover might be little.