nChrist
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« on: March 12, 2011, 02:31:14 PM » |
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Yesterday I received from my kind neighbor, a circular, which read as follows: "The bitter cup and goblet — a Tonic of great efficacy," etc.
My neighbor perhaps did not know that I already had a "bitter cup" in my house, and had had one for years. But it is nevertheless true. Indeed I do not know a Christian who has not this Tonic. It is not always on the table, nor always in the hand — but it is somewhere in the house, or the family. It may be in the old-fashioned corner cupboard, or in the new-fashioned cheffoniere — but it is easily found, for it is often in use.
There is my friend, Sarah Toms, she has a "butter cup" — for her husband has a harsh, irritable, and uneven temper, and does not seem to realize that it is his duty to curb it, control it, and bring it into subjection. He is often angry — when he ought to be pleased; and sullen — when he ought to be sociable. He is a sore trial to his wife, who wishes to live in peace, walk with God, and grow in grace. But, Sarah often finds it to be a Tonic, and it sharpens her appetite for the bread of life, and renders the throne of grace very precious. It is a great question if Sarah's spiritual health would be nearly so good — if it was not for this "bitter cup;" or if she would, prize and enjoy the ordinances of God's house as she does, if all was pleasant at home.
Then there is Alfred Haines, he has a "bitter cup" — for his wife does not understand him, and therefore often taunts, threatens, and torments him. Often when Alfred has his whole heart set upon pleasing God, and is trying in every way he can to help forward God's cause, and make all about him happy — his wife mistakes him, charges him with neglecting her, and with being cruel to her. Often does she annoy, irritate, and hinder him — until he is bewildered and confused. He is sure that she takes the place of the judge on the bench, when she ought to take the place of the criminal at the bar. Poor Alfred has a "bitter cup," but no doubt it is of use to him, for it often drives him to the Lord, and makes him long for home. It is a Tonic, and strengthens his digestive organs, and enables him to feed on doctrines as well as promises, on meat as well as milk.
I sometimes visit a dear family, where both husband and wife are believers, and appear to be very well matched. Their house is their own, and their business is good. When you enter, all is neat, clean, and orderly, and you feel as if you could enjoy yourself there. You look around you and think there can be little to cause grief here. But my friends have a "bitter cup," for they have a son that causes them shame and grief. How they trained him in infancy, I know not — but he is unmanageable now. His mother cannot influence him, nor can his father control him. Sometimes he comes home intoxicated, and sometimes is out the whole night. Many a sleepless hour has that father spent, full of anxious thoughts about that prodigal son; and many an hour has that mother wept and prayed that her Absalom may be brought to God. But painful as it is, even that "bitter cup" may be the means of spiritual health, and prevent the soul from sinking into ease and worldliness.
My friends, the Smiths, appeared to have their lot cast in a pleasant place, and to possess a goodly heritage. Happy in each other, happy in the church — but happier still in God, all seemed to go well with them. I could see no "bitter cup" in their dwelling. But they had a lovely, intelligent child, of which perhaps they thought too much, and perhaps loved too ardently. They watched over it with the greatest care, and sought by all means to train it up for God and glory. It was a sunbeam in the house, a sunbeam in the eye, and a sunbeam in the heart. But it took a slight cold, it gradually grew thin and pale, it became weak and feeble. Fear was excited, every means was tried to restore health — but it drooped and died! This was a "bitter cup." What tears were shed. What prayers were offered. What distress was felt. But all was in vain. The darling's doom was sealed — an early grave received the body. Yet this proved a blessing too, for Jesus occupied the dear one's place, and became the object of their undivided affections.
Joseph Andrews is a holy man, and one who wishes to live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present world. He has a godly wife, and a comfortable home. He stands well in the church, and enjoys the means of grace. He has good health, and earns good wages. His motto is, "If it is possible as much as lies in you — live peaceably with all men." But he is one of a number of men employed in the same business, and some of his fellow-workmen are infidels, some profane swearers, some mockers and persecutors of the godly, so that, like Lot, his righteous soul is daily vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked. This is his "bitter cup." If you saw him at home, you would say, "What a happy man he must be!" If you saw him only in the house of prayer, you would say "Who can have greater cause to be grateful?" And this he feels. But his Sunday is often disturbed with thoughts of the coming week, and his devotions are spoiled by what he has heard at shop, harassing him in the sanctuary. But home is endeared, and the sweet peace of the Sanctuary is rendered doubly precious by what he suffers when at his employment; and so his "bitter cup" proves a Tonic for his soul.
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