November 17

"When Israel was a child, then I loved him."—Hosea 11:1.

Is it not very touching to see how God recalls the promise of the days when I knew Him first? He travels across the great wilderness of my neglect, till He comes to the oasis of my early love; on that He fixes His thought with a wistful intensity.

One of our poets has some verses entitled "Two Sons"—two that are yet the same—

"One is fierce and bold, wife, As the wayward deep; Him no arms could hold, wife, Him no breast could keep.

He has tried our hearts for many a year, not broken them, for he Is still the sinless little one that sits upon your knee."

That is the way—gracious, wonderful, blessed—with fathers and mothers here; it is the way with Him from whom every fatherhood is named.

Indeed, I can scarcely marvel at it. For my spiritual youth realised His highest plans. He chose me before the foundation of the world, He redeemed me by the passion of His Son, He sent His Spirit to me, that I might be holy. It looked as if His high purpose were fulfilled in those morning hours, in those spring days, of my career. He rejoiced. He remembers it still, though in my heart there are no longer birds and sunshine, but bleak winds of autumn and the threat of snow.

Let it kindle my penitence that God thinks so longingly of my better moments. Ye did run well, He says, with one of His truest servants, who did hinder you? My Father, I would feel again the old "bright shoots of everlastingness."