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Miracles of Our Lord by George MacDonald
page 16 of 161 (09%)
health, has learned little either of St Paul or St John. The religion
whose light renders no dimmest glow across this evil air, cannot be more
than a dim reflex of the true. And who will mourn to find this out?
There are, perhaps, some so anxious about themselves that, rather than
say, "I have it not: it is a better thing than I have ever possessed,"
they would say, "I have the precious thing, but in the hour of trial it
is of little avail." Let us rejoice that the glory is great, even if we
dare not say, It is mine. Then shall we try the more earnestly to lay
hold upon it.

So long as men must toss in weary fancies all the dark night, crying,
"Would God it were morning," to find, it may be, when it arrives, but
little comfort in the grey dawn, so long must we regard God as one to be
seen or believed in--cried unto at least--across all the dreary flats of
distress or dark mountains of pain, and therefore those who would help
their fellows must sometimes look for him, as it were, through the eyes
of those who suffer, and try to help them to think, not from ours, but
from their own point of vision. I shall therefore now write almost
entirely for those to whom suffering is familiar, or at least well
known. And first I would remind them that all suffering is against the
ideal order of things. No man can love pain. It is an unlovely, an
ugly, abhorrent thing. The more true and delicate the bodily and mental
constitution, the more must it recoil from pain. No one, I think, could
dislike pain so much as the Saviour must have disliked it. God dislikes
it. He is then on our side in the matter. He knows it is grievous to
be borne, a thing he would cast out of his blessed universe, save for
reasons.

But one will say--How can this help me when the agony racks me, and the
weariness rests on me like a gravestone?--Is it nothing, I answer, to be
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