March 3

"I will."—THE PSALMS, passim.

I LOVE the old psalmists—David, and Asaph, and Heman, and the rest—because they understood so well the force and value of will power in the matters of the soul.

I will trust in the covert of Thy wings, they would say. It is a word for me if I am halting still between two opinions. No doubt, Jesus "does it all"; but yet I must submit myself to Him, and throw myself at His feet, and avail myself of His grace. I have my own function to fulfil.

And I will love Thee, O Lord my Strength, they would say too. It is a word for me, if my heart is languishing and growing cold. Too often I acquiesce in the coldness and languor, as though they were inevitable. But I must bestir myself. I must dwell on the thousand reasons I have for loving God. I must do my utmost to rekindle the flickering flame.

I will be glad in the Lord, they would say again. It is a word for me if I have lost my joy and assurance. I forget that often grief and gloom are sins which I must strive against. I must stay my soul on the faith-keeping of the Father, and the grace of the Son, and the comforts of the Holy Ghost, till sorrow and sighing flee away.

On the American prairies the butterflies start westward in their migrations, and make steady progress, though the wind is against them and the sea in front. The delicate butterflies rebuke me. I must infuse a more resolute purpose and a more vigorous decision into my religion. I must learn to say, I will trust, I will love, I will rejoice and be glad.