Blindfold I walk this life's bewildering maze;
Up flinty steep, through frozen mountain pass,
Through thorn-set barren and through deep morass;
But strong in faith I tread the uneven ways,
' Johu S. MaTsr.
ST. JOHN XIV. I 55
And bare my head unshrinking to the blast, Because my Father's arm is round me cast; And if the way seems rough, I only clasp The hand that leads me with a firmer grasp.^
2. The world cannot give us heartsease. — The worldling says " Come with me, and we will go where there is the lilt of merry music and the twinkle of dancing feet. Once at the feast, you will forget your sadness." We know how little this man's advice is worth. We have heard and, it may be, yielded to this plea for a Httle diversion ; and we know that a troubled heart cannot be sung and danced and fooled out of its grieving. The world's music may get into your feet ; but only the music of heaven, of the Divine promises, can get into a troubled heart. In this world of problem and passion, and fear and distress, where the shadow of separation veils from us much that once was ours and lies soft and silent upon all that we do now possess, there is but one way to the quiet heart. It lies, not in the wisdom that would know all, or in the folly that would forget all, but in the faith that trusts the love of God the Father in the face of Jesus Christ — the faith that leads a man, in all the trouble of his days, to shelter his soul in the promise, yes, and in the silence of the Infinite Mercy. " Ye believe in God, believe also in me."
^ Some think that the secret of peace is in the vision of science. There is a tendency to approach every experience of life along the line of the intellect. Faith in some quarters is depreciated. But, however men may slight it, they learn soon or late that they cannot live without it. These scientists, with their delicate instruments and their subtle treatises can say a great many things to us, but they cannot say all we need to hear. During the last fifteen years I have read many of their books. I honour them, and the service they have wrought; but I have missed one note in them all — the note of comfort. There is one thing they cannot in all their wisdom say to us : " Let not your heart be troubled." They cannot say that. They can teach us to talk wisely, but they cannot help us to live quietly. They do not give any help in the day of a troubled heart. In that day I do not want to be reasoned with, I want to be comforted. I do not want learning, I want love. I do not want man, I want God. I do not want science, I want faith.^
1 Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta. * P. C. Ainsworth, A Thornless World, 90,
56 SECRET OF THE UNTROUBLED HEART
3. Jesics unfolds the secret. — He says that personal faith will keep the heart at peace. We may not be able to rule the storm, but we can keep the storm from ruling us. Christ tells of the man who built his house upon a rock; and flood and tempest came and beat upon the house, but it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. God has not taught us how to rule tempests, but He has taught us how to build houses that will defy these tempests. He has not given us lordship over life's stressful weather, but He has given us the lordship of our hearts. If we trust we may be quiet. Trust is always tranquillity. To cast a burden off myself on others' shoulders is always a rest. But trust in Jesus Christ brings infinitude on my side. Submission is repose. When we cease to kick against the pricks they cease to prick and wound us. Trust opens the heart, like the windows of the Ark tossing upon the black and fatal flood, iox. the entrance of the peaceful dove with the olive branch in its mouth. Trust brings Christ to my side in all His tenderness and greatness and sweetness. If I trust, " all is right that seems most wrong." If I trust, conscience is quiet. If I trust, life becomes "a solemn scorn of ills." If I trust, inward unrest is changed into tran- quillity, and mad passions are cast out from him that sits " clothed and in his right mind " at the feet of Jesus.
^ There is a beautiful figure employed in the Apocalypse to denote the calmness of the soul which arises from the conscious- ness of God's presence. Before the throne there was a sea of glass like unto crystal. The idea conveyed to our minds by this emblem is that of a sea, not of glass, but like glass, a sea the glassy surface of whose waters is ruffled by not so much as a passing breeze, and whose crystal depths are lit up with sunshine, a sea smooth and clear as crystal. The beauty of the emblem is that it combines the most restless, unstable thing in nature with the idea of perfect repose and tranquillity. The sea in its restlessness is a true likeness of the human heart. Every breath of wind disturbs the one, every breath of adversity troubles the other. But there is something which can bring perfect repose to the soul — the presence of God. This is the truth which is taught by this sublime image of the sea like glass before the throne. It represents the calm of a soul which dwells in the presence of God. We think of heaven as calm because it is out of reach of the storms of earth, but this is not the idea conveyed by the vision. The heaven which it reveals is a heaven on earth. The scene of